Promise

I promised myself that I would add one of these stories here every time I told one. I tell them at one point or another throughout the summer. There will be no chronology - not yet anyway - nor will there be much of a schedule. You never know; I might add a story every day and I might not. This is my life. Every day is an adventure.

Anna

Wednesday, September 22, 2021

Homemade Soap #4

Rethinking can sometimes bite me. You'd think I'd learn, but I'm always rethinking something.

Last year I only worked the last 10 days or so and no one used those nifty little soaps I made - sigh. This year, I only worked like half the year, but that's okay - I'm getting too old for this job, plus, I really wanted to welcome my new granddaughter into the world. She was such a tiny doll and she liked to curl up on my tummy, but once again I digress.

As I took over the cabins, I discovered that no one had used my soaps and I had more sitting at home, and no room for them here, so they stayed there. As I worked, I thought on display. Since I was still working on those last soaps from my very first efforts, I was still working on square bars, and they stood up nicely beside the little bottle of shampoo (I think it's like 3 oz, but don't quote me on that). So it would stay on it's side, with my handwritten label in plain view, I angled it slightly with one edge against the wall of the cabinet (there is a nice little cubby perfect for this display) and the other edge supported by the shampoo bottle.

It's this display that I was considering. Throughout all my soap making, my goal was a small bar that was oblong - rather like the bars you buy in a store without any indented stamps or fancy shapes - just rectangular and nice looking.

But...

Looking at my display, those bars that were smaller would have looked really small, and I didn't think there would be enough room to write my label. I thought about this issue all summer long as I worked through my soaps. Finally, like maybe a month from the end of the season, I made my decision. If I remade all those smaller soaps, aiming for the larger size, I would end up with less (in number) bars. (Remember, I had 3 bins that each held 36 bars, and thanks to no one else using them, they were overfull, which is why my most recent batch stayed home) I went through all those bars, wrapped the next 36 bars to pack into the now empty bin. They'd been curing for 2 years now, so I was confident that they would be fine next year. I even taped them closed and wrote my label on them. With luck, the next girl would see the label and know to use them - with luck. Who knows, maybe I'll be there next year, but I'm not planning on it - not much anyway.

End result of removing all the smaller bars, what was used this summer, and what I'd wrapped up already, left only one bin of extra soaps to cure for another winter.

To make sure I would fill my block mold to the brim, I allotted 3 pounds of soap to a batch. Following my tried and true recipe, that meant I would need to add 1.5 cups of water to the shredded soap. So, my jar that I melt my soap in doesn't hold 3 pounds of shredded soap, I mean, it's close, but I didn't want to pack it in, however, after adding the water and starting the heating, it wasn't long before I could pour the rest of the soap into the jar.

Making homemade soap in this manner has always been a learning curve, and I think this effort is my best yet, but I'm getting ahead of myself. At 3 pounds of soap per batch, I ended up with 5 big blocks. Each block yields 12 bars. Not a bad haul if I do say so myself. It kinda reminds me of my very first effort - I'd hoarded so many used bars of soap, which is why this whole adventure got started.

I did something different this year - ever so slightly. This year like 99% of all the soap was my recycles being recycled again. Last year all the full sized Dove bars that had been used had also been thrown away. They were gone from my shelf and just plain gone - what a waste. I hate waste. Anyway, what I did different was melt the soap until the water I was melting it in actually bubbled. Before I'd only waited long enough for the soap to be stir-able - not that the soap got any thinner, but it appears as if it did more melting. Before slivers of different colors from different kinds of soaps could be seen. This year, there's still some variation in the colors, but my efforts to use white bars seems to have made a difference. They're all a creamy color now (not counting a speck or two), and I think they'll cure a lot nicer too, but only time will tell there too.

Another thing I did different was to turn all the soap into my 5 blocks (5 blocks = 5 days), and then on day 6, I started to slice them into their 12 bars - one per day - the oldest one first. You get the idea. Before starting the next bar, I put the last ones down into a square bucket (My husband had weedeated a hole in the bottom, so it was worthless as a water bucket. It was going to get burned, but I'm glad I was able to repurpose it. Between the layers of soap, I put cardboard cut to fit. When all 60 of my bars were in the bucket, the last cardboard square was level with the very top of the bucket.

My plan at this point is that I will let them sit like that until somewhere around the 1st of next month and then I will trim them up and shave off the rough edges - make them pretty, you know - and then put them back in the bucket to cure for the rest of the winter.


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Update October 4


So I prettied up all 60 of my bars and ended up with a whole lot of shavings, so I decided I'd melt them into bars. I figured if they were on the small side, I'd just recycle them with next year's project. As it turned out, they were a little smaller than the others, but still square, so I'll give them a few days to dry and then pretty them up too. Two more layers of soap in my bucket will make it too full, but I'll think of something. I'm eyeing a brown paper bag to see if I can decrease the space between layers, but we'll see. 


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Thursday, April 15, 2021

Summer in a Hurry

 Let me start this by announcing that subscriptions by email are going away sometime in the middle of this summer, so if you subscribe to any of my blogs, you will no longer be getting those cool emails when I post something. I have no idea if it will be replaced by something else - we'll have to see.

Now on to my post

Less than a week ago temperatures were reaching 0F or colder over night, but the longer days, they were getting into the 30sF and 40sF. For the last few nights, it's not been getting below freezing at night, so it has become time to start worrying about the boats. The goal for today was to go down and shovel out the last boat we pulled, which happened to be the lowest on the bank (easier to launch, you see)

Needless to say, it didn't go quite so simply. 

We headed out knowing the snowmachine trail was going to be soft, but not too soft for the machine. Even going down our hill wasn't bad. Everything was going pretty much as expected all the way until after my husband dropped me off by the boats and headed on down to the river to turn around.

Herein things started to go bad

As soon as my husband hit the bottom of the ramp, soft snow to the side of the trail grabbed a ski and sucked him off the trail and onto his side. I was still putting on my snowshoes, but as soon as I got them on, I headed down to help him. That ramp is a mite steep and I knew it, but I hoped the claws on the bottom of my snowshoes would help. I also had my shovel to use as something of a crutch. That got me about three quarters of the way down when I slipped. I tried to jog ahead in hopes of keeping my feet under me. Needless to say, I sprawled on my face - not hard - I didn't hurt anything - just kinda humiliating - good for a laugh. 

I helped dig the machine out enough to get it mostly upright while my husband unhooked the empty sled (we were going to pick up some firewood on the way back to the house). He dropped the hitch pin into the sled, but I didn't know that. While he was making the loop, I went to roll the sled off the trail so he could get by (bye bye hitch pin). Now he tells me. So, while he goes back to the house for the smaller machine (easier to haul around if needed), and a new hitch pin, I make like an archeologist and go scraping for the missing pin. I finally found it - yay! just as he was showing up again.

He comes down and almost does the same thing as last time, this time aiming directly at me though I was standing off the side of the trail behind where the sled was now. He didn't really get stuck, but he might have if he didn't have to stop. I get me and the sled farther out of the way, and he goes out to do the loop again, this time finding water, but he didn't get stuck in it. He stops at the top of the island so he has a better run at the ramp up off the river, so I push the sled to him so we can hook it up again. The hardest part of doing that was my snowshoes, the sled slid along just fine. 

We get everything hooked up and he takes his run, and the crust - what there was of it - breaks out from under his machine and he gets stuck almost at the top of that ramp - damn!!!! We have to get that machine back down, turned around, and make another run after all our holes are filled in - sigh.

That nice little machine came sliding down that hill just fine after we lifted it out of it's hole. My husband's knee took some painful punishment, and my snowshoe punched down knocking me down almost behind it. I put my other foot on the machine to keep from getting run over, but I got pushed along a few feet anyway. I felt like a turtle on my back at that moment, but it was kinda funny. I just lay there for a few minutes catching my breath and trying to figure out what I could do to get my feet under me again. With my feet slightly higher than my shoulders, it took a little planning. That's the bad thing about snowshoes. I'm glad they were the little ones. I like those. I now have a new bruise on my back hip from when I ended up on the sled's hitch. No biggie, but both of us are getting pretty tired, and we still haven't even gotten to the chore we came down here to do.

We pulled the machine back until we ran out of help from gravity and out of oomph to pull with. Then my husband went to fill in holes while I packed a space wide enough to pull the machine around on. 

Sigh - definitely running out of oomph. 

We got the machine turned around - eternally grateful it was as little as it was - and then he made a run for the ramp without the sled - - - and made it, though it was a close one. 

Next order of business was to go dig up a rope so we could pull the sled up.

We made our snowshoed way over to the boats, going the easy way, which required walking around the back end of our big boat, only to be reminded that there's not much ground behind that boat. No real problem, just shovel some snow into low spots and pack it down. Not bad really. Just running out of ju ju. We worked our way around to the rope we were after; it led from the boat we were going to shovel out to the front of the big boat. I got it all uncovered, but a part of it- about a foot or so - was frozen to the ground, so that rope wasn't going anywhere today. It's uncovered; the snow will melt that in no time at all.

We wended our way back to the snowmachine, and while I was catching my breath, my husband was taking off his snowshoes. As I was taking mine off, he decided to go after the sled and just push it up. It's not all that heavy, and it slides well. The issue is the hill. He gets it most of the way up the ramp, and I'm hurrying to get my shoes off so I can help. I have to dig my heel in, but we get it up, and then we get it hooked up - sigh - almost over.

Not so fast. 

We have an almost switchback on our trail going up that hill, and guess what, he couldn't make the corner. I make my slow way up behind him and hold the brake while he pulls the front over back onto the trail and then the back of the sled over in the other direction. Then it's the rest of the way up the hill - sigh. 

Because it was the little machine (and because I didn't want to walk another six steps), I decided I could ride in the sled, sitting on my snowshoes. It worked just fine.

As I sit here typing this, I feel like I'm about 100 years old. My legs are still stiff from the other day when I hiked down the trail in my snowboots to help my husband cut a tree off the trail - that was the firewood we picked up. Only four rounds and a few sticks - I didn't get there in time to help, and I've been stiff ever since. 

Summer is looming - I really need to get into shape - sigh - not today. I've had enough exercise for one day.

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