Sometimes making to-do lists makes me feel better. Reading a Psalm or a chapter of Isaiah can be a balm. But when those feelings really threaten to shut me down, I go into homestead mode.
Homestead mode involves all thing folksy and earth-related. Gardening.
Working with herbs. Hanging laundry on the line. Making soap. Tending the bees.
Maybe it’s that it all hearkens back to a simpler time. Perhaps it says
something that so many of my calming activities involve stinging insects and
toxic substances. Let’s not examine that too closely.
Today my go-to is a batch of soap with a new scent combo I’d
been wanting to try. I saw a video on Facebook combining lavender and lemon.
Mmmmmm. (By the way, I don’t know how anyone cooks or makes anything
complicated while making a video of it. How do they hold the camera? Do they
have a videographer? I don’t get it. However, I have respect for the fact that
they can, and I have certainly gotten some great ideas from those more
tech-savvy—or dexterous—than I.)
Let me add here that I am not a world-class soap maker. I am
a novice at best. I Learned what I know from Andrea over at Black Acre Farm,
and her soaps are a-ma-zing. I pretty much just putter around and have fun with
what I have on hand.
First, I gathered my botanicals—fresh lemon rind and
lavender buds, to go with the lavender and lemon essential oils I plan on
adding to this batch. I’m using these fancy plastic molds, because they’re
still new and kind of fun, but I don’t always use molds. Cake pans and cracker
boxes work pretty well. Pringles cans produce a lovely round soap bar. Today,
though, we’re using paisley and butterflies.
Next come my fats. Different fats produce different qualities
in terms of creaminess, lather, etc. Today I’m using lard, because I have it
and it’s cheap, combined with coconut oil for lather and some bits of beeswax
just because I can. They go into a pan to melt slightly.
I love my digital scale. It’s easy to tare, and I can change
the units according to what I need—for the lye, I need grams. I bought some
overpriced lye from Amazon the first time I did this, but any 100% lye drain
cleaner from a hardware store will do. As a bonus, you have it on hand for those
really messy clogs. My other essential, lying beside it, is my laser
thermometer, which reads the temperature of my soap without having to come in
contact with the lye mixture.
First, I combine the icy lemon water with my lye, stirring
until it cools enough to add the fats. Some people use an immersion blender,
but I burned mine out the first time I used it, so now I opt for a plain old
whisk and some elbow grease.
Once the fats are added, I stir until I get ”trace.”
It looks like pudding, but don’t stick your finger in, and for heaven’s sake,
don’t taste it unless you want a spontaneous trip to the ER. Once the botanicals
and oils are added, I pour it into the molds, cover with plastic wrap and wrap
it in towels to slow the cooling. In about 24 hours, I can unmold it and cut it
into bars. Then comes the hard part—waiting the four to six weeks until the
soap is aged enough to use. Use it before then, and it could burn your skin.
Relaxing, right?
The kiddos left me alone remarkably well during this whole
soap-making session, and I was feeling pretty chill by the time the soap went
in the molds. Then I walked into the office and realized what they’d been doing.
I mean, I knew they were playing delivery. It just never occurred to me that
they were using boxes from the office. The office my husband and I had just started
to tidy up after living here a year. The boxes that they had to dump stuff out
of before they could use them. The boxes they’d dumped all over the floor…of
the office.
I no longer feel chill.
Now, after having made them clean up the worst of the chaos,
I’ve dried my eyes and regained some of my balance. However, I have lost that
sense of full satisfaction from having made a batch of soap. I’m back to
feeling stressed. Overwhelmed. Tired. Lethargic. Depressed.
Maybe it’s time to check the bees.
