Sunday, January 24, 2010

Fox Run Soap & Sundries

You know... something I realized tonight...

The new soap... it's dulling down some of my OCD.

Most people who know me know I've got a nasty germ phobia. I mean, I'm not quite Adrian Monk but I have my days where I come darn close. So, when I have to do things like clean a litterbox or some other mess my brain reads as "germ-ridden", I used to have to wash my hands several times, using dose after dose of regular soap. Over and over till I either felt clean enough, or had to consciously force myself to stop on the insistence that surely my hands must be clean by now even if I don't feel like it. Even with antibacterial soap I had this problem. Even with other bar soap I had this problem.

But now... this plain, old-fashioned, no-frills natural lye soap... moreso the regular bars I ordered than the floral scented one (psychological I suppose)... I clean up a mess... I wash my hands... once. MAYBE twice.

That's it.

No more.

My hands feel cleaner when I wash with it.

The soap itself washes cleaner, leaves less residue on my hands.

But I don't feel as germy.

Now, I know lye has certain natural antibacterial properties... but it's not that I think of it as an antibacterial soap.

It just feels cleaner. I don't know why. It just does.

Granted, I do have a certain compulsion at the moment to go use it. But not because I think my hands need cleaned. More because I just adore the feel of it, the muted, almost waxy smell of it. The creamy texture of the lather, so different from what I'm used to.

And it's okay.

Because it doesn't tear my hands up like other soaps. God already I can't wait to show James. He's seen how dry and cracked and bloody and chapped by hands can get in the middle of winter. Now... there's still a few dry spots, but nothing's flaking or cracking or scaly anymore. My hands are soft. They actually look like a woman's hands for a change.

And the bath oil/cream/soap, whatever you wish to call it (Blooming Bath is how it's listed on her site) - I had been bathing in olive oil before that to try and curb the dry skin and it didn't really last. Plus made the tub all slippery, made me all oily which was okay if I didn't have to go anywhere, less so if I didn't want everything sticking to me. But this stuff... the moisture stays... everything's less dry. EVERYTHING. And it doesn't leave that oily film all over my skin and my bath.

And every part of me just feels cleaner.

Hopefully James has no problems with it and won't put up much fuss (can't imagine he will) - I think the Fox Run products are going to be a permanent fixture in my home... I can't go back now... it's that good. For the Corner Gas fans out there: it's bumped me into a new soap bracket.

And I'm loving every minute of it.

I've become a walking ad. lol

Monday, January 18, 2010


My parents put their dog down today. The one we brought home as a puppy after we found him running around my middle school... the one who reminded Jodi what being young was all about and extended her life a few more years. He wasn't my favorite dog in the world, but I at least owe him for that much.

Within the past year or so Freckles had developed a nasty rasping cough. It kept getting worse, so they took him tot he vet. Congestive heart failure. So, they've had him on meds for a while, kept having to up the dose further and further, until they couldn't up it anymore, and finally this winter he got bad enough they decided it was time.

Mom says he went peacefully, like he was ready to go. Makes it easier than Jodi's loss - she fought it the whole way down in spite of the fact that her arthritis pain wouldn't even let her walk. We figure she wasn't done teaching Freckles how to watch the family yet. She taught him how to bark at danger. She never did have time to teach him what NOT to bark at. So he barked at everything instead.

He was a dumb dog anyway, she didn't ever have much of a pupil to work with as we found out over the years with him. But he was a sweet dog and always meant well, even if he was pretty much an idiot.

He was most definitely dad's dog. He loved pretty much everyone (once he realized they weren't going to eat him, the big coward), but it was when dad went away that he was really lost.

Mom said they buried him right next to Jodi. As dad put it: close enough that she can reach over and bite him in the butt. She always did that. *chuckles* Normally you think of puppies pestering the older dog. Oh, no. That old fart would chase him around till he couldn't half stand it anymore when he was a pup. Completely backwards.

Seems strange that it's been that long... a whole canine lifetime since we lost her... and now he's gone too.

Don't know if they'll be getting another dog or not. I assume not yet, not for a little while at least. But I need to start spending more time at the humane society again... I suspect once they do decide to get another dog, I'll be called on to help. I've kind of become the official dog-finder for friends and family...