I Think I Need Soap Weed

By Dale Angel

While hiking between stacked walls of the local big box store, I got lost. I was looking for laundry detergent. After traveling through a valley and a gorge, I came to what I was searching for: a whole canyon size wall of possibilities.

Over my head were boxes of Joyful Expressions, Simple Pleasures, Sunburst, Aloha Splash, Fresh Linen, Island Fresh–Sparkling Ocean and Spring Lavender. 

Near the eye level area were the Stain Lifters, Action’s Free and Gentle, High Efficiency Original, Multi-Action the 2x Concentrate, Free and Clear and Apple Mango. Seventh Generation, Rinso, Precious Clean, no…I think that one was called Supreme Clean. Eye level shelf space is premium at the market place. Products move faster from there.

Dropping to the floor level were Touch and Softness, Every Day Elegance, Dual Actions, The Power of Nature–Tropical Passion, White Linen, and Mountain Breeze.

Mingled among the boxes were bleaches. Classic Purex, Color Guard Ultra Cheer (I’m not sure if this is a soap or bleach). Renuzit was another iffy one.

My travels took me into territory I was acquainted with, names like Era, Gain, Dreft, Tide, Surf, Arm and Hammer, Whisk, All, and Cheer. These older brands I recognized.

Almost every store have their own house brands too.

I would date myself if I asked for Duz. It was supposed to be soap that didn’t require you to rinse your laundry. I can testify it didn’t work.

However, I didn’t fall for those little blue balls selling for outrageous money sold with promises you never have to buy laundry soap again. The man that sold those got some prison time plus a mansion in Florida. There are some areas of life I made good decisions.

I quit looking. Too many choices. I used to like Feld Naptha. That was real soap wasn’t it? I started out for detergent–that’s what I’ll get. Just give me any kind. They’re all the same, just different names………What is Soap weed?  I think I need Soap weed.

Where is the trail out of this place?

Dale

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Poverty and Adversity

By Dale Angel

Poverty and Adversity travel together. They will stop by uninvited and visit, sometimes staying a lifetime. Through ignorance, inexperience, and sometimes to forces beyond our control, we find we are no match for them. Like a disease, it permeates the blood lines. We pass it on to our children.

You know when you have been selected to keep company with them, especially if this is a new concept for you. If you have had this problem for years, you don’t even know you have it. You think it’s normal to do battle every day in an economic war. You compliantly hand over your paycheck for decades and decades. Sometimes undermining your own best interests in favor of a temporary amusement, it brings self-induced poverty, or maybe unforeseen circumstances put you in hock through no fault of your own.

 When you find yourself in plastic shoes attached to an old truck tire recycled into shoe soles an outfit of sleazy material from the sale…sale…last call sale, that is a red flag…unless this is voluntary.

Language that suggests agitation, with one octave off hysteria is another sign. A wrinkled brow and teeth that needs attention–they are at your house, maybe moved in. If the light bill is foreclosing and you see the bridge as an option, this is full blown poverty with its companion adversity.

 Today’s economic market place depends on your cooperation and belief that their programs are designed for your best interests. They want you to believe they are doing you a favor. Debt comes under many sweet sounding names and can be lethal.

 Adversity and poverty do have some merit. They are valuable instructors. We can learn from our enemy. It takes commitment and focus and courage to plan our escape. I’m running as fast as I can to get free. If you pass me, I’ll wave to you.

Dale

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Wabi-Sabi

By Dale Angel

Wabi-Sabi led to Shabby Chic. I followed them.

The Japanese concept is so soothing: Wabi, meaning humble; Sabi, meaning beauty.

I entertained Shabby Chic first though. We moved out of the tent to the over hauled hen house with a window. Using a wire coat hanger I straightened with my hands, I placed it across the nails at each end of the window. It made a curtain rod for the drapes that consisted of a cut off skirt of my favorite dress. I loved my home and this beauty of the skirt over the window. I loved it every time I looked at it. Today this is called Shabby Chic. Then it was called being resourceful.

Later in life, my new home was filled with museum pieces I had picked up at yard sales. All the out dated old antique beauties that had lost their moment in the sun…like me. It was difficult to be enthusiastic over some of the stuff of my era, but I made the leap.

I had met Wabi-Sabi earlier. Like some love affairs, we never made the connection until we were more mature. It was love at our first introduction. Looking at life through ages of serenity, beauty and peace, it came with humbleness. I moved out on Shabby Chic.  We had our beautiful moments together. I think I out grew Shabby Chic.

 I moved in Wabi-Sabi that came with old hand made pieces older than time. It took great powerful lifts to move the stuff. We lived together with humility and beauty. Old Age traveled with us, it was peaceful and warm as I polished and caressed ancient pieces with history.

 Wabi-Sabi became unappreciated when my toes met friendly fire…the piano leg… and I almost crippled myself. My dad’s cuss words came out of my mouth.

I couldn’t move anything without calling for reinforcements. After waiting for a long time, maybe two days, when help did arrive, I threw it out and life became easier.

I love my new conceptual design home. I can move a whole four drawer chest with my little finger. It’s on wheels.  I got it at Wal-Mart. It’s plastic, and I have one for all the junk that multiply at my house. I have one to catch the books and magazines and papers that get away from me I stash them in my little plastic drawers. I can even throw in my shoes from the middle of the room where I kicked them off. I have handy plastic containers everywhere, even under the sink.

My new conceptual design home is not much bigger than the hen house; it’s called a mobile home. The wheel chair and walker look like they have moved in permanently.  I’ve had the experience of living with my former loves, Shabby Chic and Wabi-Sabi.

These days, I’m more comfortable with Youth, the detached clean uncluttered living, with few things. Instead of pictures, I have notes thumb tacked to the walls to help me remember what day it is and what pills are due.

When I look out at the trees and sky I see Wabi-Sabi out in nature, I don’t bring it in the house anymore. Shabby Chic is all around me I just visit others houses they still have the strength for that stuff. My little tin palace has lots of windows. I live in shameless luxury.

Dale

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