Exorcising Ugly Soap

I am my own worst critic. Nothing you or anyone else could say to me could possibly make me feel worse than the nagging voice inside my head does. Nothing. I tend not to trust people, so their opinions of me, or my work, mean little. But I trust myself completely, and if I say to me, hey, that last batch of soap you made was a real dud, I believe me. I was in a rush yesterday and had just finished creating a gorgeous custom soap for a client and wanted to keep up the momentum, so I grabbed what was nearby -- a jar of tuberose concrete, some rose damascene absolute in oil, a lush 10-year-old natural amber composition, and mixed them all up, put together a half-batch of soap base, threw in the scenting elements aaaaaaannnnndddd the whole flippin' mess seized in the pot! So I plopped and glopped and slopped (sounds a bit like a Dr. Seuss story) the soap into my 'signature' lotus molds and into a wee loaf mold. Hours later I popped them all out of the molds aaaaaaannnnnndddd they look like crap! They smell pretty good, though. I'm debating whether I should make a small soap base of olive oil and tuberose floral wax and chop some of this ugly soap into it and call it Tuberose Soup -- yes, soup, not soap. Or I could take this heinously-slow-to-dry orange blossom incense I made last year and create a soap from that mixed in with this ugly stuff . . . options. 

Ugly a** soap ~ smells good, though!

Needless to say, I was pretty glum for the rest of the day after this soap tragedy, to the point of near grouchiness. I even went to bed early I was so mad at myself, and I kept staring down the ugly soap, threatening its life with a swift flush down the toilet. I will chalk it up to A) I'm out of practice, and B) bad residual energy in the house. I will sage and calm myself down with a shot of gin (or two), then get back into it. Or maybe I'll just sage and take a nap and do all of this soap sorting later.