Worth Every Penny
Jasmine Essential oil is $75 an ounce!!!!!
But it's a key ingredient in Migraine Miracle, so it's worth every penny.

Fun!

I spent the day with Persephone, yesterday; and I had a blast! To be fair, she wasn't feeling her best, and I stayed way too long, and I'm sorry. However, we got a lot done. She made a set of truly awesome bath products -which are now being tested for the store. I watched in awe as she created bath salts for her daughters; who are going through hormonal changes. She'd never made this particular blend before, but you wouldn't know it to watch her. She filled the kitchen with love, and she smiled as she worked.

When the girls' salts were done, she moved on to a bath salt for men. She didn't use snips, snails or puppy dog's tails; and it was still the perfect blend for manly men who deserve a good soak in the tub. I want some for the Hubby-Man. I'll be her first customer. The rest of you all have to wait in line.

She called the kids, and had them sniff the bath salts. The girls smelled the mens bath and said, "That smells ok." Then they sniffed the womens salts and said "That smells soooo good!"
Next it was the boy's turn, and they had the opposite reaction. The girls salts were ok, the boys salts were fabulous. Nice!

After the smell test, Persephone moved on to a milk bath. Again, miracles happened. I have a jar of (what I call) "Mother's Milk Bath", and some of the bath salts. I'm testing the salts today, because I'm ovulating right now; and it's an ideal time to try Persephone magic.

I have a logo!

The store is coming together. I can take orders, but the shipping rates are still a bit messed up. For some reason, it doesn't tap USPS for shipping rates; and UPS thinks the weight is pounds, not ounces. But I have a logo! I made it all by myself, too!
Chasmyn, would you go look at it and give me your opinion? I know you could do a much better job and all, but I wanted to make one myself.

It's amazing what you can't mail

I like the idea of shipping my shea butter through the U.S. Postal Service. It's cheaper than UPS or FedEx. It's generally faster, too. So I went to the USPS website and tried to find out if I could ship shea butter. I mean, it could be called "organic material" and "perishable"; so I thought I should check first.
Which led me to an incredibly long list of things that you can't mail. Most of them would never have crossed my mind. Like this:

Under 18 U.S.C. 1716, all matter that is outwardly or of its own force dangerous or injurious to life, health, or property is nonmailable (duh. But if you ship it anyway...)
The knowing deposit of such matter in the mail is a crime punishable by fine, imprisonment, and/or other penalty. (the actual penalties must be listed elsewhere)
However, certain hazardous materials and otherwise restricted and perishable matter may be mailed under the conditions permitted in DMM C020-C024 and this publication.

Ok, then. On to the list of examples. (mind you, these are examples. They can bust you for shipping anything that's not on the list -but still something hazardous, restricted or perishable)

a. Hazardous materials (DMM C023) include:
(1) Corrosives.
(2) Explosives.
(3) Flammable liquids and solids, combustible liquids.
(4) Gases (under pressure).
(5) Infectious substances, etiologic agents, clinical specimens, biological products, sharps, other used medical devices.
(6) Miscellaneous hazardous materials (i.e., dry ice, magnetized materials).
(7) ORM-D materials.
(8) Oxidizers, organic peroxides.
(9) Radioactive materials.
(10) Toxic substances (poisons).
b. Restricted matter (DMM C024) includes:
(1) Abortive and contraceptive devices.
(2) Battery-powered devices. (is it the batteries you can't ship, or the entire device? Does this mean I can't mail a hearing aid, or a watch? Or does it mean some devices are forbidden, like vibrators?)
(3) Building construction materials. (yep, you can't mail drywall)
(4) Controlled substances and drug paraphernalia. (duh)
(5) Firearms. (duh)
(6) Intoxicating liquors. (really? wow.)
(7) Liquids and powders. (What about dehydrated H2O?)
(8) Matter emitting obnoxious odors. (no used gym socks, sorry)
(9) Motor vehicle master keys. (duh)
(10) Nonhazardous liquids and powders. (why not? they're nonhazardous!
(11) Sharp objects (knives, switchblades, stilettos). (duh)
(12) Odd-shaped items in letter-size envelopes. (actually, you can mail those, but you pay an extra fee because it's "non machinable")
c. Perishable matter (DMM C022) includes:
(1) Dead animals or parts of animals. (is fur perishable? What about wool? that's part of an animal.)
(2) Eggs. (ew)
(3) Live animals. (duh)
(4) Meat and meat products. (wouldn't meat or meat products fall under "live animals", "dead animals" or "parts of animals"?)
(5) Plants and plant products. (I guess that rules out shea butter and tofu. What about paper?)

But wait!
section 215.3 says:
Restricted Matter or Perishable Matter
To obtain a ruling on the mailability of restricted matter or perishable matter, a mailer should provide specific information to the local postmaster. This information should include the following:
a. Detailed description of the restricted matter or perishable matter. (Simple enough)
b. Special precautions necessary to permit handling without harm to postal employees or damage to property. (also simple, no special precautions necessary)
c. Proposed method of packaging. (double walled tub with a cosmetic seal, placed in a ziploc baggie -just in case, surrounded by shredded newspaper, and stuffed into an official USPS priority mail package)
d. Explanation of any local, state, or federal regulations that apply to shipping such matter. (Do I have to do everything myself?!?)
e. Quantity per mailpiece and per mailing, frequency of mailing, and post office(s) of mailing. (a simple matter)

I think I can handle that. 'Course, I'm shipping some to a friend without jumping through all those hoops. Instead, I'll be going to the local post office and ask, "Can I mail this?" while looking innocent. It usually works.

Riddle me this, Batman

Comfrey thrives in poor soil. It likes ditches and heavy clay, but it'll grow just about anywhere. So knowing this, where the heck does it get all the stuff that's in it? Here's a list:

Constituents:
Mucilage
Allantoin
Tannins
Resin
Essential oil
Pyrrolizioline alkaloids
Gum
Carotene
Glycosides
Sugars
Beta-sitosterol and steroidal saponins
Triterpenoids
Vitamin B-12
Protein
Zinc

!

SpaceShipOne does it again

Yahoo News says: Plane Soars Out of Earth's Atmosphere

CNN says: Private craft soars into space, history

You can read about the entire Ansari X-Prize situation, including where other teams are at right now by visiting xprize.org Page loading may be slow today. :)

I say SpaceShipOne does it again, because on May 13th they reached an altitude of 211,400 feet. On April 8th, they went over 100,000 ft up. Another test flight occurred on March 4th.
They're sending SpaceShipOne up an average of once every 5 weeks. Once every five weeks! The same craft!

L and I watched a replay on CNN. He really enjoyed the floating M&M's. I really enjoyed watching the sky turn black.
If we didn't have L's highschool and college looming ahead of us, I would take out a home equity loan and send the Hubby-Man on the first commercially available flight. At a projected $20,000 it's a bargain!

I've got a storefront!

Well, I have the start of a storefront. I haven't loaded any images yet, but it's got a shopping cart and paypal. Right now you have to register before you buy anything. I haven't figured out how to change that yet. It's set to figure postage via UPS, but I want to ship through the US Postal system too. It's cheaper and usually faster than UPS ground.

I'm really excited.

The Decay Of The Olympic Torch

When I was a kid, I got to see a runner carrying the olympic torch. We had to get our parents' permission, because it meant leaving school grounds and walking 2 blocks through a crummy neighborhood in order to see a bit of flame for a few seconds. Mom got all excited when I brought the permission form home. She had to tell me all about the history of the carrying of the torch, where it had been, where it was going, and how fortunate out city was to have the flame pass through. My teacher had already covered this, of course.
I was in the 7th grade at the time, and thought that standing on the sidewalk was better than sitting at a desk any day. That was about the extent of my interest.

So the big day came, and after lunch we hiked off to watch the torch go by. Interestingly enough; while my teacher and my mom both thought this was a big deal, they were in the minority. My class was one of the 3 that even bothered to watch.
There were a scattering of people waiting with us. Most had brought lawn chairs. After about 5 minutes of standing there, I started wishing that I had brought a lawn chair too. It was boring, standing around in the hot sun. This was before St. Louis got serious with it's tree-planting program. There was no shade, and nothing to look at beyond a few run-down apartment buildings.
I started thinking about the history class I was missing. My desk was looking better and better to me.

The people around me became restless. Word began to spread... the torch was coming. "Finally!" I thought.
I has assumed that all torch bearers were olympic caliber runners, and I couldn't figure out what was taking so long. I mean, olpmpic sprinters ran at least as fast as a car, right? (And that just goes to show you what 7th graders know about physics)

By the time the runner got there, the street was crowded. I was being squeezed from all sides, and couldn't see a damned thing. Fortunately, the teachers noticed this and started spreading us kids out. I don't know how it happened; but I wound up right at the curb, with a clear view.
A feeling of awe had spread up the street. The crowd began clapping, and I could see someone jogging down the road carrying what looked like a short, white, whiffle-ball bat. It was so sunny out, that you couldn't see the flame. All that standing around to see a sweaty jogger? What a waste!

And then he ran past.

His sole focus was that flame. The flame I couldn't see. I couldn't see it, but Oh, gods! I could feel it. This flame, that had begun as the rays of the sun, was as pure as it was when it began it's trip in Athens. At least, I imagined so.
He was followed by a pack of back-up runners, who were followed by a van carrying a back-up flame; for the flame must never go out.

That was then. Nowadays, they have several torch bearers in several cities, all running at the same time. That sacred flame is divided, and used to light stupid little cauldrons designed to look just like the big one at the Olympics. The last time the flame went out during a run, it was relit with a propane torch!, because the "back-up flame" was in another city!

I personally believe that each time the flame is divided, each time it's used to light a little cauldron; it's strength is diminished.

Gods, I hate commercialization.

So I'm Creating A Scandal

A little while ago, the Alderman of the ward my mom lives in passed away. Today her ward held a special election to pick a new alderperson. My mom is an election judge, and she started working at 5 a.m. Around 9 a.m. a deputy showed up and said, "Haven't they evacuated you yet?"
The voting place is part of a school, and there had been a spill in the chemistry lab. The spill was mercury, but nobody told the election judges that. No one came to close the voting and move it elsewhere. There was no need, because the spill was way at the other end of the (quite large) school.

So they carried on. A woman came in and said, "the cops said the polls were closed, but I didn't believe them. So I came in anyway."
Mom went outside to find out if this were true, and found several police officers turning away voters. Mom assured them that the polls were open and voting was definately taking place; and the cops stopped turning people away. They were soon replaced by several fire trucks, which blocked off several streets.

To be fair, they probably thought they were doing the best thing. I'm sure they had the safety of the voters in mind. However, if the school was unsafe; the election judges would have packed everything up and moved it outside or something.
93 voters braved the fire trucks, police officers and news vans, and cast their vote for a new alderperson.

Good for them.

Patriotism?

Bloghopping led me here, and the top entry began with this:

"Tuesday, June 15, 2004

Your Reading Assignment for Today

Know the difference between

Patriotism

Nationalism

National Mysticism

Jingoism"

Which reminded me of a debate I had with my mother-in-law, around the time of Sept. 11th (2001, of course)
I had declared that I was deeply patriotic, and she had replied, "No you're not. You don't like (respect) the President."
I said it then, and I'll type it again now... I love my country. I love this land. I love the people who live here. Well, most of them, anyway.
I don't have to love the current President in order to be a patriot. According to Wikipedia, (thank you No Touch Monkey for saving me research minutes) "Patriotism is a feeling of love and devotion to one's own country."
So there you have it. I'm a patriot, and I still think Bush is a turd.

The Mighty Quinn

I didn't blog at all this week. I just kind of hung in limbo. Chasmyn has gone to the great northwest. I miss her already, yet I can't be unhappy when I think about her being gone. She needs this move. I really think it's going to be good. And, of course; Seattle will be much improved by her presence. Anyway, I didn't blog because this is Quinn's anniversary week; and I simply shut down.

It would be impossible to put the miracle that is Quinn into words, although I've tried on several occasions.
The best way to get a sense of this amazing child is to go to Chasmyn's site, read her words, and download her tribute. The download is fast, and worth every second; plus it spares bandwidth -which is important since Lili is hosting the site for free.

Anyway, as I'm sitting here, typing and sniffing and wiping tears out of my eyes; the hubby-man is watching a baseball game. So this next section is titled Why I Love Baseball. The Cardinals are playing in Texas (or something) and we're kicking their butts. Like 13-1 kicking their butts. One of the Cards' hit a ball into the stands, and it landed right in the lap of a little kid. How perfect, right?
Well, perfect until the adult jerk behind the kid falls over the seat (kicking the child in the back in the process) and swipes the ball.
So the crowd is booing and chanting, "Give him the ball!". Mr. Jerkwad sits stubbornly holding the ball and won't give it back. But that's ok, because other people are decent. A child comes down the aisle, and hands over the foul ball he had caught earlier. In true child-selfless fashion, he gave away his own once-in-a-lifetime catch.
Then the home-plate umpire gave him a ball.
Then an employee of the stadium gave him a ball.
and then Reggie Sanders came out of the dugout, and gave the kid a bat.
Can you believe it?
I can.
That's why I love baseball.

side note: the gift of the bat earned Reggie a standing O. He didn't do it for the ovation. He did it because it was a good thing to do. Also, another person just gave the kid a ball. I hope Mr. Jerkwad gets many nights of satisfaction from his stolen ball, because that hunk of leather and cork is all he's got; whereas the little kid who caught it in the first place has the love of an entire stadium. Nyah.

The Pagan Picnic

12 years ago, a little coven had a picnic at Tower Grove Park. They brought friends and food, and had a lot of fun. They had a small ritual around a big tree. They raised a lot of energy and offered it to the land, and it was good.

It was so good, in fact; that they did it again the next year. They invited more people to their picnic. They spent months going out of their way to find solitary pagans and small covens. They invited all to bring a dish, bring a friend, and spread the word; and it was good.

It was so good, in fact; that they did it for a third year. Hundreds of pagans came. People from different traditions held discussion groups that were open to anyone. They came and they shared and they learned.
A council was formed to manage the picnic and other community-building events. They called it C.A.S.T., and it was (mostly) good.

By the fourth year, the little picnic had evolved into a 2 day event. Thousands came to network and share. They brought cans for a local food bank. They held weddings and rituals and people in funny clothes. They talked, and laughed, and realized that they were not alone. And, oh; it was so good.

People came from other states. Reporters came and took pictures for their newspapers. Church groups came and stood on the sidewalk -amazed. A few walked around and asked questions, and it was good.

This year, the big tree was struck by lightning and fell; but the picnic went on. No reporters came. The pagan picnic isn't news anymore. No church groups came. The pagans aren't amazing anymore.

And you know what? It's good.

A small thing, really.

Grandma can't take all her stuff to her new home, there just isn't room. Dividing the furniture was easy. Her other things are not so easy to divide. Everything is getting boxed up and sent to grandma in small batches, so she can keep what she wants. Whatever she doesn't want, or can't use anymore; goes into my sister's basement. The hope is that we can get everyone together and they can take what is precious to them. Anything left can go to charity. (I have offered to sell the stuff no one wants on e-bay, and we could put the money in grandma's savings account -or donate it to any charity she wants. No one can decide what's the right thing to do.)

I don't want grandma's money. I don't want her car-length seal fur coat (shudder). All I ever wanted was Great Grandma's battered old Queen Anne card table, and a set of canasta cards. Really.
Of all the wonderful things my grandma has kept over the years, all I wanted was that table. It's heartbreaking to pack her things in boxes; knowing that they're about to be separated for good. Knowing that I may never see or touch them again. Things like grandpa's tailor shears (massive steel scissors that are still sharp enough to draw blood from the careless), postcards from Sicily, letters that weren't sent for one reason or another, and a Bakelite vanity set that grandma had used as a teenager. Any of these items are precious to me. When I touch them, I touch my ancestors. The essence of who they are remains, and I can feel it.

I will miss those things (until I forget about them); but in a way, I can still touch them all because I have great grandma's card table. It reflects the touch of every hand that polished it; every person who played cards on it. I thought the table was the most priceless thing I could own, and it is. But it's not the thing that makes me the happiest. I'm holding the happy thing in my hand right now. And I'm smiling.

It's a cookbook. A simple little cookbook. A cookbook that I've been searching for in every used bookstore and charity book sale that I've come across. One that I thought of as so collectible, I'd never be able to afford it even if I could find it... and it was sitting on grandma's microwave cart all along. Unbelievable!
I am now the proud owner of the 1943 edition of "The Joy Of Cooking" by Irma S. Rombauer.
This book tells me how to make food from scratch. It's so old that canned soups are a fairly new thing! And the 1943 edition includes sugarless and sugar-saving recipies and ways to stretch meat (or cook without it) during war time.
I'm happier than a feline on a catnip farm!

A Movie Review

Just saw Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban. It's damn good. The directing (to my surprise) was excellent, the editing was decent, the special effects were downright fabulous. I know that all the changes to the story line were approved by JKR, but I was disappointed nonetheless. I liked the story as it was written. There are glaring differences between the book and the movie; however, the movie definitely fits with the Harry Potter world. Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban is shorter than the previous movies, finishing in a mere 2 hours and 20 minutes. There are no slow points during which you could rush out for more popcorn, so get your snacks in quantity -if you feel you need them ;)

You can expect more and flashier magic (yay!) and a good flow from start to finish. Many of the problems I had with the movie-version of the HP world have been corrected; which I appreciated, but the corrections (read: changes) drove the Hubby-Man up a wall.

There were a few bits that I thought were integral to the story line, that were missing. I had better see them on the DVD. I also expect to see Academy nods for cinematography, special effects, and possibly directing. The movie is filled with those little touches that make it realistic.

Overall, Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban is well worth the price of admission. But leave the toddlers at home. HP's world is dark, and I hate to hear little kids cry.

Long Time, No Post

I don't know where the phrase, "Long time, no see" originated. It's one of those sayings that's been in use for as long as I can remember. It means "I haven't seen you in a while". I know there are phrases that are specific to a region; and phrases that are specific to a family. My favorite family phrase is "Oh, for crying out loud in a bucket"; meaning "Your dramatics have reached the point of ridiculousness". It conjures up a great image for me.

Do you have any unusual family phrases?