Those French People

Donna’s roses

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My sister lives in Portland, Oregon.

It is quite hip there.

She gave me the gift of some bath soap which I sadly came to the end of recently.

I loved it.

Used it far beyond the point any sensible person would have let the ugly remains go.

Navy blue and camel striped.

Square.

Wonderful scent.

As natural as you can get as far as soap goes.

Very little lather which says something of the political correctness of it I think.

Being soapless as I was I rolled into my favorite store, ARRAY.

Being there is like taking a pain pill; every darn sensation, thought, imagining that doesn’t fit into your personal life puzzle gets annihilated just by crossing the threshold.

I headed for the soap display.

There were many, many natural varieties to choose from.  Tom, the owner buys the best of the best.

They were squared off , most of them.  Lots of corners.

 Nestled in the rich display were two sensually shaped sort of elliptical seed -looking soaps.

They were French.

Both enticingly unboxed and asking to be touched and smelled.

So I did.

The scent was straight out of a wildly chaotic explosion of a French country gardeners offering.

It fit in my hand like a nesting bird.

My grandmother used a black soap made in Spain sporting similar curves; MAGNO soap.

The following morning my French soap lathered up so darn much I stretched my neck up and started laughing at the pure excess.

It is extremely 1% of me I know

But a girl’s gotta be a girl

As much as humanly possible.

I spent the rest of that first day with my new French soap feeling perfectly gorgeous.

I decided this will be a new tool in my daily regimen for armoring up to meet the world the best way I know how.

Purposefully choosing utter excess quite consciously to begin my day allowing myself that extra secret little buffer to keep my precious essence intact amongst the incivility and mayhem.

A shield of scent and pleasure known only to me.

A clean and sassy little samurai am I.

comments

9 Responses to “Those French People”

  1. Ellen Fox on June 24th, 2017

    Cathy,

    Where exactly is this store? I can’t picture it.

    Ellen

  2. Ellen Fox on June 24th, 2017

    Cathy,

    Where exactly is the store? I can’t picture it.

  3. Paul on June 24th, 2017

    What a wonderful little secret you share so poetically!

  4. Dominique Mazeaud on June 25th, 2017

    moi aussi, je veux savoir ou est ARRAY.
    merci beaucoup

  5. Irene on June 25th, 2017

    My grandmother, who was a teacher, always received gifts of spicy Maja soap at holiday time.

    Nothing like a little pampering with our favorite goodies to make us feel special!

  6. Adele on June 25th, 2017

    Those roses are mind blowing
    You have elevated soap for me and I am excited to discover your favorite shop Array
    Thank you for this Sunday morning gift xxxxxxx

  7. Carole Zoom on June 25th, 2017

    You’ll laugh at my daily luxury: Puffs tissues. Because the ventilator gives me a runny nose, I keep a tissue tucked into my sleeve. I ran out of my regular cheap kleenex one day and a friend pulled for her purse a little travel pack of tissues. I took one amazed at the softness — so different I looked at package: Puffs. Puffs! I savored each one until gone.

    Now my daily luxury is Puffs! I remember her generosity, that moment. Luxury!

    You enjoy!
    CaroleZoom

  8. Barry on June 26th, 2017

    Oh my……….

  9. Dennis Chamberlain on June 28th, 2017

    This is some major league writing. Loved every word.

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