liquid-gel laundry soap tutorial

There are several DIY Laundry Soap recipes out there, I chose this one because my friend uses it on a daily basis and swears by it. She has four small children and a busy hubby. I figure if it is good enough for her, then it is good enough for me!

At 320 full loads per batch (TEN GALLONS!) this is well worth the cost (about $5.00!) and the hassle. The worst part is grating the bar of soap, which is just a tad more difficult than grating cheese. (just a tad, really, because it's soap and you can't nibble while you work.) You can always do what I did and enlist the help of someone big and burly. Tally up the time involved and it will be about an hour - tops.

Also, I need to warn you that this soap starts out as a liquid, then turns into a gel as it sits. Like Jello, seriously. You will need to stir it, shake it, or whatever you want to get it to liquefy again. Once it is a liquid again it is Sliiiiiii-mey! Like dinosaur goo, kind of creepy. Then again, I never went elbow deep into any of my other laundry soaps, so maybe they were slimy also? Oh well, you only have to do the elbow deep thing once, if you want, or you can find a long study stirring stick and avoid the slime altogether, I just went in! I digress. When it sits, it gels, so each time you use it, give the bottle a good shake. Easy enough.

NO DYES. NO PERFUMES. (unless you want to add 5-10 drops of your favourite essential oil) Safe for septic systems. Safe to use in front load and high efficiency washers. I think it works great. The clothes come out of the dryer with out a scent per sey, but smelling fresh, and feeling good to the touch. To me, I think this soap rinses out more efficiently than my other brands of soap did, hence the good feel to the fabric. This is basic stuff here folks, not quite Little House on the Prairie, but basic good soap.

The way I look at it is, if you have to save money, if you have to cut back and scrimp, wouldn't laundry soap be the place to start? I mean, better than say, eliminating those cute shoes you saw last week? Yeah, I thought so too.

Bleach Pen Skeleton Shirt Tutorial

So here you go folks, a tutorial on using a Clorox Bleach Pen to dye/bleach out a 100% cotton tee shirt. This one, a skeleton! The bleach works out to a variety of oranges, kind of creepy looking actually. Skill level really depends on your art skills. The more confident artist will just sit down and draw out a skeleton. The less experienced crafter may need to practice and/or take a bit of time. All in all it's just bones and a costume, so does it really matter if it's not perfect? Have fun!

Click here to view a (larger!) you tube version. You Tube got upset at me and I had to change the music. Then I changed the music and it pouted for a few days, guess they forgive me and it's up now. I changed the music to my daughter's concert band, how can they get mad about that? The music is cool, "The Pines of Rome, Appian Way" (where all the dead soldiers rise out of their graves and march into Rome...appropriate I thought. You can here their 'boom boom' march as the back beat, cool.) It was the performance done at Disney Hall (hall, not land- they were and still are the only youth symphony allowed to perform there.), so it's pretty good. Any who, larger version at the link!

One more reason Thor is amazing.

Dandelion Momma writes beautifully on summer happenings in her home and feelings that bring moments of relief in an often overwhelming life; one of which is the thought that perhaps someday she will be able to hang her laundry on a clothesline outside to dry and fluff in the warm summer sun. She makes it sound lovely.

One of my best friends hates to see the weather change to the point where she has to take her laundry indoors. She is a firm believer in the benefits of sun dried sheets and clothing that takes on the scent of the outdoors. She becomes slightly depressed during the long winter months of rain, or the threats thereof that chain her shirts, socks, and sweaters to the energy efficient dryer in the laundry room.

Me? I have issues.

For the first six and a half years and three children of our marriage Thor and I budgeted every penny trying to buy a house, feed little people and keep ends at least within a few feet of each other. Part of that budgeting was me lugging laundry and 1, then 2, then 3 children twenty minutes into town and doing laundry at the mat. I detested most every minute there as, at that time, it was the least expensive of the auto-mats in our hamlet, and being such, attracted those who could least afford the better machines and interiors. But I went dutifully. Thor was sacrificing (he had to live away from home for work, many times living in his car to save money rather than sleeping in a hotel), and this was my part. Many times the children were not allowed away from my sight lest an inebriated parent in the room engage them in a somewhat less than appropriate conversation.

After a while Thor saved enough and came home with a washer. It was small, the smallest one they made in the line he chose. It was a fabulous machine that lasted us well over 20 years in the long run. On average, with the kids and the size of the washer, I would do 3-4 loads a day over those 20 years. We hadn't yet afforded a dryer, so those loads were hung outside in the summer weather to dry. We had 1/2 acre of land, completely void of vegetation due to the high cost of water. The backyard was a vast flat piece of sandy dirt and gravel with foot high foxtail weeds in the spring until Thor could plow them down. But the line was well above the danger of the weeds and dirt and with the heat of the day, even the heaviest pair of denim jeans would be dry in a matter of minutes. In the winter laundry hung like Salvador Dali's "Persistence of Memory" all over the house furniture. When it finally dried it would come off the particular piece of furniture cast in its' shape, crispy and often oddly shaped even after putting it on. If I didn't take care to properly place the clothes once dried you could have a permanent "bubble" shape in an arm sleeve or the small of your back, or worse.

Along with saving for dryers we needed to save for other items. As a young bride and groom we received zero towels when we married. Z. RO. We got 5 hand mixers, 10 salad bowls, 6 chip and dip sets and 2 blenders, but no towels (or sheet sets for that matter). Thor's mother generously gave us her older towels and sheets which we gratefully took once we saw the price of new ones. It took me about six and a half years to finally save enough to buy brand new thick lovely towels!

I brought them home and cut the tags off of them, I put them in the washer and anticipated their thick fluffy loops drying us all later that night. I hung them out on the line and after 20 minutes or so went out to gather our new treasures! Instead I walked out to find the line post had broke at the base and fell to the ground. The line had twisted over and over in the wind and the towels had flopped and mopped up thousands of foxtails into the terrycloth. I unclipped each towel and wash cloth and cried crocodile tears as I surveyed the damage. Not one was saved, they all were covered so thick with the foxtails there was no hope of pulling them out without destroying the terry loops. I blew. After waiting almost seven years it was all I could take. The towels were gone. Worse, the money was gone with them.

With all the kids down for their naps I went to the garage. I found the hedge clippers and I went to work. I went to the downed line and chopped it into foot lengths of rope confetti, crying and yelling at the ground for all I was worth. I had lost my new beautiful longed-for and months of saved for towels and I was hysterical. I exhausted my emotion in that line and then picked up the destruction and put it all in the trash.

I walked into the house, took a shower and waited. Thor came home two days later and I showed off the towels and my handiwork. If we went into hock or hell, I was Scarlett O'Hara and as God as my Witness I would never use an outdoor clothes line again! Thor gave me the "Frankly my dear..." look, but before he could begin the look on my face told him not to say a word.

Poor Thor took all my wrath and then some. It was not his fault but I didn't know who else to blame and I needed to spend that rage. It took two more weeks but, Thor brought home a small dryer and kept me from chopping up anything else. It's been 30 some years now and I tell ya, there are just some things a wife needs; and for me, it was a washer and a dryer!

So I put it to you, is there any silly thing that pushed you over the edge of reason, for which your better half has saved you by providing a solution?

I loooove L.A.!

When you begin the day with a "chocolate cream frappachino, medium please, and ummm, a rice crispy treat, thank you", life is good. I met up with Chronicler (sorry no link here, 'puter problems - see the side bar - Food Chronicles) and we set out for a day in LA. Upon arrival at the prearranged meeting place I was early. Knowing Chronicler enjoys a good strawberry whozit from Starbucks, I called her on the cell and asked if she would like to start the day and make it a "sugar high Thursday"? I found the perfect spot, ran in and met with a terrific English gentleman behind the counter. He could tell immediately that I was a Starbucks virgin and helped me through the process. I felt like a dork anyway and just ordered the same as Chronicler.

She met me half way down the block, having parked her baby (a cute little 'cooper') in a safe spot waaaaaay far away in a distant galaxy where she would be safe from the day's dings. We set out and drove in to LA to the garment district where I was promised I could find a "cheap yet reliable tailor" to alter the wedding dress I purchased for my son's upcoming nuptial celebration. I wrote earlier about buying the dress (on sale for $50). After finding a parking spot, adding 50 cents to a meter, Chronicler and S'mee-self waited with a group of non English speaking workers for an elevator up to the 2nd floor of a very "funky" building. After nodding and smiling a while we got off on our floor and walked in to find two very kind tailors willing to help me out.

How much to alter the dress? "Poot on first, then we see how mooch." After dressing, the two gentlemen are all over me with pins and tape measures and I look as though I am an albatross awaiting a dry landing with my arms hanging there (flapping?). After the last pin was set one of the men said, "Ooohkay, now you take off and be 3 hours back, please." "How much for the alteration?" I asked. His reply, "Three hours back please. Mooch work. Take long time." So once again the query, "How. Much. Money?" "Three hours back please, mooch work, seventy doolars, seventy uh huh, three hours you come back please."

I paid $50.00 for the dress. I don't care how mooch work, I can't pay $70 to get it right. "Well, thank you, but I cannot afford $70 for the alteration. Thank you." And I begin to take the jacket off. "Hoold it please!" and at that he was on his knees taking all the pins out o the hem.

We walked down the stairs, not wanting to wait for the very slow elevator. (Creepy factor HIGH) Chronicler suggested we head over to the Farmer's Market/The Grove for lunch at her favorite Italian restaurant (hey you took home the wrong bag and you have my meatball sub leftovers!). We walked through Barnes and Noble and did some critiques of Cook books, and debated chefs versus cooks. (Flo Braker = cook Giada DeLorentes = food network eye candy) As we headed back to the freeway we stopped by a couple of Cake Bakeries; each sitting cheek to jowl of the other (in fact, the one was in the middle of the other - complicated, but true). Chronicler and I parked the car, ran across traffic and went in to see what all the fuss was about. Here in LA these are the two places to go for wedding or real party cakes. Who really had the best? She had to know! So we went in each store, tasted samples and perused the displays of their talented bakers/decorators. The cakes were indeed delicious and some were amazingly complicated in design and technique, although I didn't see too much that I hadn't see already in books.

I think Chronicler will probably write up the stores and bakeries, so I will let the Cook do her job well. On the way home we talked and chatted and, as what is becoming a habit, ended up at the Cheesecake Factory to grab tonight's dessert. YUM!

What about the dress? Well, Chronicler and I decided that if she pinned and scrunched, that perhaps I could do a fair Dr. Frankenstein and end up altering it myself. So next week it's back down to her house for a scary few hours of sewing; and hopefully the dress will be fine. Hopefully.

Here Come the Judge...

Lisa over at conversation has a post on "modesty and the modern world". I think it is a great post. I have some of the same "judging" issues as she does. I admit to casting a prejudice eye on those who stand on Holy ground, i.e. LDS Temples. I judge.

Perhaps it is because I have had some success in the area of the topic of concern, because I find myself rather tolerant of other things. (yes, I admit to a double standard) Lisa admits to this weakness as well. I think she is brave to stand at the e-world's front and say out loud she is saddened by what she witnessed. So THANK YOU LISA! You have drug me out into the open to stand with you.

I, S'mee, am saying it our loud: I am sick of the sight of inappropriate attire within the grounds of the temple. To be even more snarky (Lisa, I think, would never do this, she is extremely nice from what I have read of her)...on to being snarky... I am tired of the look of (many of) both genders within the hall of my local church chapel. (Thousands around the world now gasping! o.k. maybe just the ten people out there who read this blog)

(Using your best Rod Serling voice...) Imagine if you will, that we have been invited to a V.I.P. dinner at the White House. We will be sitting next to the President and his lovely wife. We have been asked there to represent ourself, our family, and an average citizen for our country. Other dignitaries will be present and will be introduced to us by name. This is their opportunity to see and converse with us -this one time- about how we feel about being an American citizen and what we believe.

Keep in mind these folks are pretty nice and they hail from the great state of Texas, where I presume, they enjoy a great pair of Levi's as much or more than the other guy. What would we wear?

Would we:
a. Knowing they are hunky dory with jeans and nice folks, show up in our comfy jeans. A little shaggy, but the President will know we are a hard worker and not mind our casual nature.
b. Say to ourself, "hmm, he's a nice guy, but hey, this is the White House, maybe I should wear my best khakis and a golf shirt."
c. Hear Cloris Leachman say, "I suggest you put on a tie!" and wear our suit.
d. Rent the best tux we can afford.

This is a State Dinner, think carefully, what would we do? Think about how we will feel with the others in the room. They, we understand, will be dressed in the finest attire their country requires. For some it will be a tuxedo, others it will be perhaps a special fabric tied in a unique way that symbolizes the importance of the occasion. What is the best choice for us?

Another question to think about. The conversation that will be had.
Will we
a. Think the best way to represent our family and self is to "be ourself", in other words, not change a thing about the way weill speak. They will get the same speech and language we would use at a ball game with our buddies.
b. Clean it up a tad. But hey, how will they really know us unless we keep it "real".
c. Watch our speech carefully.
d. Make sure we use clear language, speak a bit slower than we would in normal conversation, enunciate and try to use words that convey exactly what we feel and believe. Perhaps we will even go so far as to try to learn about the other countries that will be there so that we can ask them pertinent questions as well. Try to improve the level of our conversational skills for the evening.

Hopefully, if you think the way I do (yes, I know, I am the epitome of knowledge), you will have chosen "d" in both sections. Not that we want to misrepresent ourself, but rather show respect for the honour we have been given and to elevate those we represent as well.

Now, if we do these things for our president, should we not do these things for our God? I told you in a post that last week we had to find the "perfect dress" for prom. Do you think I expect anything less "perfect" for my daughter to go to worship her God? Granted she does not show up in a formal for Sacrament meeting, but she does show up showered, groomed, and in clothes that show respect for the occasion. She does not wear sandals and tank tops to Sacrament Meeting. Nor does she feel denim is a fabric of choice when worship is involved. Money is not at issue here. She does not need to purchase a suit from Nordstroms, an outfit from home will do just fine.

If all we have is a simple dress or khakis and a golf shirt, make sure they are clean, pressed and in the best repair possible. Bleach white shirts, keep them crisp and tucked in properly. Spot clean the ties so that they are presentable as well. Purchase clothing that fits well and does not cling. Keep all parts of our body between knees and shoulders covered. Keep hosiery in good repair and clean. Polish and dust shoes before worship. Attend to grooming in all areas. Our body should be as clean as possible before approaching the Lord in formal worship. Pay attention to the nail beds and tips, we carry and or pass the tokens of His Sacrament. Our hair should be clean, cut or styled in a manner befitting those who represent the Lord.

Speech is another issue. Acceptable slang is not appropriate for use in worship. Clean it up, think about what should be said in the House of the Lord, and in His chapels. Find out a little about Heavenly Father, His preferences, His choices, His way of thinking, His customs, so the conversation isn't always inward. Think of the responsibility we have as His representative, do we live up to that as best we can? Or do we think, "hey, He's a nice guy, He already has forgiven me and He doesn't expect me to come all dressed up, He just wants me there."

Doesn't He deserve the same respect we would give a concert, prom, or state dinner? Doesn't He deserve more?

A White Sport Coat and a Pink Carnation

Last week before #5's concert, her dad convinced her that she needed to attend her senior prom. So on Monday we went in search of all things required to ready an 18 year old to have a good time at a schmancy event center in L.A. on Saturday.

Dress was purchased, altered, hemmed and dry cleaned. Flowers purchased for the date. Shoes were had, and also new "unders" of all kinds! Hair was cut and restyled, make up was applied and photos were taken.

We are happy to report the night was "fun". The traffic to the event went quicker than expected so the school kids arrived in L.A. too early. They were allowed to go into the building but had to stay in a specific area until the room was readied. They were on the top floor with a terrific view. #5 said they had a "really good" sit down dinner complete with chocolate strawberries and brownies for dessert. The music started and that was a tad disappointing for her date and she (she's a picky one), so they walked around the room seeing the city from up high and danced when they slow ones came on or it was a song with "decent lyrics". They watched two friends, a brother and sister, "tear it up" on the dance floor off in the corner of the room. "They are amazing!" according to #5. They also enjoyed watching the chaperons "watch us, it was like a spy movie." Her favorite teacher told her she looked "very nice", so she was happy. All in all it was worth the running around to get ready.

I am waiting anxiously for pictures to come home. Part of last week's situations required me to leave and go out of state to a wedding. More on that in a different post. Thor baby sat the grandbaby and taught him the words to "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star" to mommy's surprise; and that when the sun goes "bye bye" it goes to "China". Trains squish pennies and "run fast", and you have to eat two nuggets before you get fries. There were also lessons on how many sodas one can have when with grampa and just how far you can throw a rock when you are two.

I think that song scorched my omlette...

We got up early this morning to attend a Chamber of Commerce Breakfast and for #5 to receive another $500.00 (THANK YOU! THANK YOU!) towards her collage fund!

It's an interesting thing. All my life I have always thought of civic leaders in a certain light. Suits, straight carriage, moral, etc. Then you eat with them. Kablooey! I should be used to this now, as I have eaten with politicians! Talk about dissolutions! But I digress. I also am surprised at what kids these days1 consider "business attire2". You'd be surprised. This stated, I will promptly back up and announce to the world that I am not an expert and make these same faux pas, however, I am not in a leadership capacity, nor do I represent anyone other than myself.

All in all the morning was quite interesting. The room was filled to capacity and everyone was really warm and friendly, very chatty and inquisitive. Nice really. I did note, however, that when addressing the audience that everyone of the speakers, informal and keynote, referred to the members of the room as "you guys"; which I was always brought up to be a major "no-no" within a social or business frame. Perhaps a more appropriate choice would be: "For those of you in attendance...", or "All who would like to...".

That and the use of gender specific titles, such as: "The girls in my office...". I have been told that one currently should use P.C. terms such as: "The co-workers in my office..." or even better, "My associates...", lest you offend those whom work for you, beside you, or have authority over you.

Credit goes out to the 4th grade children who presented a well planned program, including a power point presentation. They each stood straight and slowly enunciated their names and titles, then took a step back and allowed their class mate to do the same. During the speaking portion of their presentation they spoke distinctly and with factual information pertinent to the presentation.

Another part of the morning was the entertainment. Entertaining it was, although #5 and I were a tad blushed when the story-teller broke into song about "Hot hot Sadie, that brazen baby, that hot little lady they all knew!" The story lady was dressed like most story-tellers are, in bright bold colours and completed her ensemble with the obligatory wash board, kazoo, and bicycle horn. Her song was indicative of the 1800's ragtime, although the lyrics were as scorching as the firemen whom "dated" Ms. Sadie. I don't think any others in the crowd were offended at all. She received an ovation and whoops and whistles. Poor #5 was about to burst into flames.

The events were kept on time and on track by a man with a sledge hammer - seriously! He would bang a contraption similar to those used at the county fair to test your strength -DING!- if you went over your allotted time. Everyone had a good laugh over this "tradition", although for all the newbies in the room, it took us a couple of DING!s before we didn't jump and flinch any more.

So there you have it. The leadership folks in the community right next door, who evidently know how to party on a Wednesday morning! God Bless America!

1 - Yes, I have become my mother, thank you very much. 2. jeans, logo t-shirt and basketball tennish shoes; skin tigh black leggings (I thought those went out inthe 90's) with a very thin skin tight turquois t-shirt and bright yellow sking tight shrug wrapped around Dolly Parton-esque torso, with neon strappy stillettos; or camoflage - um, we can still see you.

It's a S'mall world...

Went to the Small today. We call it the small because the folks here think it's a mall, but it really isn't. I went to purchase a new pair of jeans. Up until about 12 years ago I never owned a pair of jeans, now they're all I want to wear. After watching one too many "What not to wear" episodes, I realize that I should just burn my closet to the ground, rob a bank and shop only at Banana Republic. Problem is, I am not a Banana Republic size, more like Watermelon Republic.

So off I go into Lane Bryant. It cracks me up that the models -even at Lane Bryant- are thin. There is no possible way the gal flaunted in the window posters is anywhere near a size 18. Even size 14 would be pushing it.

I saunter over to the jeans section. A literal wall of jeans. Relaxed fit. Boot cut. Stretch Classic. After trying on my size in all available options I have decided that #1 I have the legs of a troll; #2 perhaps it is time for S'mee to quit wearing jeans again.

I exhausted the jean department and the sales gal suggested that, "If the jeans are too long, perhaps crop pants would be a better choice." O.k. I bite. I'll try on a pair of crop pants, although I am telling myself, "No one has seen my legs since 1978 and they won't be seeing them today!" Into the dressing room I go. (Good time to play "The Girl From Imponema") I wriggle into said crops and viola! They fit. They are best fitting pants I have tried on today. The problem you ask? Well, crop pants are supposed to hit your leg somewhere right about mid-calf (they named that part of my body correctly...moooo!), or about an inch or so below your knee. HA HA HA HA HA! These crop pants hit me just about one inch above my ankle! Seriously and without ANY exaggeration if they had been one inch longer I would have paid the lousy $60.00 and bought them as pants.

So I bought a shirt instead and went to look for a new phone deal.

"Hello, I am looking for a "family plan" and would like to upgrade my old phone." "How old is your old plan?" "Well, here's my old phone...." (salesman, upon seeing the old phone is trying hard not to laugh) "Um, ma'am, that phone is like 9 years old..." (just about half his age) Do you remember the phones from the old Army movies that came with this big lock box and a crank to get them going? They required the user to hold it with both hands? Yup, that's my phone. "Um... do you know how many minutes were on your old plan?" "Well, no, but my free minutes were from 2 a.m. through 5 a.m. and weekends if you live in Guam." 'Nuff said. He knew he had a live one. Hubby and my daughter are now driving to the Small to get a new phone and deal. Whatever it is, I hope that I can finally use my phone during waking hours.