mixing party

this is my last one today i promise! (heehee) my wrist is so sore from all the typing.

i brought all my essential oils with me on this trip. i brought some non scented lotions (thick and thin) and some coarse sugar. so we had a mixing party. katie, mom, sarah, tracy and esther and i all gathered around the dining room table on thursday morning with our empty containers. everyone looked at me expectantly. i hadn't thought about how to teach them. i thought they would all jump in like me and fatima. but i realized they weren't as familiar with all the smells, so i told them to smell them all to get an idea for what they liked. that was all tracy needed. she was very decisive. she smelled them all, and wrote down the combos she would use and for what as she went. mom was bold. she put a lot of whatever she used (must be where i get it from hey fats?) and she mixed together interesting combos. but they all turned out good. one lotion she added food colouring to so it would match her soap. haha. i worked closer with sarah and katie in the role of consultant. i would smell things and suggest what to do to get the smell they wanted, or helped them figure out what they liked. katie found an especial love for jasmine. sarah made two she liked and then had a hard time liking anything else she made. she always seemed to end up adding lemon and cinnimon to everything. one such thing was a body spray we like to call "hot toddy". in the end i made myself a roll on using fatima's recipe for a scrub she made me. i love it. esther arrived late and was really fast and decisive in her combos too. and more private i thought. i found the clarke girls more communal. there was a lot of passing and smelling and it was a good time.

mom found the book of poems i made for her when i was taking creative writing classes at malispina. here's one i wrote about japan back then when it was fresh in my mind. ( i made some minor changes):

Once Upon a Time in Japan...

I remember the sweet heaviness of orange blossoms brushing my tongue as I inhaled Japan for the first time,
the skinny streets I thought were one way and the stacks of bikes piled high against the train station,
the same almond eyes and coarse black hair on every blank, no name, generic head,
those thin futon sleeps on foreigh tatami floors and rice, rice, rice and miso soup,
the long tangled strings of words stuffed in my ears and gagging in my throat,
and the throb of home against my ribs and silent weeping on a windy platform.

I remember enduring the heat that lapped out of pores and swam in the air, thinking "I can survive!",
the pavement slapping sound of beating beds as they hung out neighbourhood windows on warm afternoons as i slept,
wading home in typhoonish rain, an umbrella grin on weary cheeks,
laughter in little moon faces tipped up to shine on mine,
and how Japan wrapped around me like seaweed and rice around raw fish.

I remember grace and Makiko's kind face under pink cherry blossoms.
I remember Japan.

by Laura Clarke

mom came home. she has an idea to save my blouse!

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