Friday, February 27, 2015

How I Make Soap

Making my own soap, and occasionally lotion, was something I started waaaaaay back when I was still in the suburbs.  I bought the fancy molds, I bought the fancy fragrances, I bought the fancy oils.  And I later realized that I wasn't really into the fancy stuff so the supplies sit in my basement, packed up in boxes probably not opened in over ten years.

My soap making forays now involve as little of the "fancy" stuff as possible and I try to keep it simple.  Although I can appreciate the benefits of some of the fancier (i.e. more expensive) oils and enjoy looking at beautifully crafted bars with swirls of blues and greens, I'm just too lazy (and cheap) to do those kind of things.  When I can splurge and want a beautiful bar of Hippie-Dippie smelling soap, I get mine from Donna at The Midlife Farmwife when she isn't screwing off at frat parties.

Making soap is pretty darned easy, albeit a little time consuming if you're not specifically set up for it.  Contrary to what just about everybody says, I don't use soap-specific utensils and containers for soap making, I use my everyday kitchen stuff.  I'm assuming the "don't use your everyday kitchen items" warning is because the utensils and containers come in contact with lye but honestly I think it just gives my stuff an extra cleaning and has yet to harm any of my spoons or measuring cups.  Either that or there's some soap materials goody store that sells over-priced spoons, cups and containers that are "Soaper Approved".  The only thing I own that is soap-making-specific is the blender, and that is because it's not a really good one.
My soap blender.  Used only for soap. 
So, what does one need to make homemade soap?  The most basic of soaps would contain a mixture of oils or lard, lye (sodium hydroxide) and water, all in specific amounts.  You'll also need a non-aluminum container for heating the oils or melting the lard, non-aluminum stirring utensil, another container for mixing the lye and water, a mold for the soap to set in, and a means of stirring / blending / mixing the concoction until it's ready for pouring into a mold.

I use a plastic half-gallon jug for melting / combining the oils, used yogurt cups for measuring out the lye, my large Pyrex measuring cup for the water / lye mixture, a big spoon from my silverware drawer for mixing the lye or oils, and either my metal brownie pan or bread pan for the mold(s).  Oh, and my handy-dandy electronic 5-lb. scale that reads in increments of 1/8 oz. and in grams.  Which I use for things other than soap making.  

The first thing I do is measure out my oils.  For my brownie pan / loaf pan molds, I use: 16 ounces of Coconut Oil, 8 ounces of Olive Oil, 8 ounces of Soybean Oil.  These oils are put into my 1/2 gallon plastic jug....that I also use for making lemonade and iced tea, albeit not at the same time.
Coconut oil (the solid stuff), Olive and Soybean oils, before heating.
Next I measure 10 ounces of water into my big Pyrex measuring cup....that I also use to measure and mix brownies and cornbread, and put it aside.

NEXT I'LL BE WORKING WITH LYE.  For those of you who aren't familiar with lye, it's basically a dry, white powder that heats up really hot and really fast when exposed to a liquid or moisture.  So you HAVE to be careful.  Dip your still damp hand into the container of lye and you'll be getting some pretty nasty chemical burns on your skin.  And you can't just "wash" it off with water, it may only make it worse.  The only way to negate the lava-hot chemical reaction is to douse it with vinegar.  So when you're working with lye, it would behoove you to have some vinegar within reach.  You should also use rubber gloves and eye protection when working with lye.  Keep kids and pets out of the general area while soap making.  Do as I say, not as I do.  LYE WARNING over.  Don't forget it.

Anyways, I measure just a pinch over 5 ounces of lye into my used yogurt cup (which will be used again and again for some other non-soap project) and carefully pour that into the 10 ounces of water, stirring until it is dissolved (while wearing gloves and eye protection - cough, cough).  The lye / water will be really, really hot.  And BE CAREFUL that you don't inhale the fumes because it will burn.  Or at least give you a good coughing fit and make you realize that yeah, you're working with a seriously caustic material, and yeah, you should probably have locked the cats up in the bedroom.  Once it's stirred up, I usually put it outside (where NObody or NOthing can get to it) to cool it off.

Three batches of water and lye ready to be mixed together.
While the lye water mixture is cooling off, I put my plastic jug of oils into the microwave and heat it up to 110-120 degrees.  There's a lye water / melted oil mixture Temperature Ballet going on here; you want both to be about the same temperature when you mix them together.
Heated oils.  In my Lemonade pitcher and the container I usually
make my chicken salad in.  And I haven't died.
Next the heated oils go into the blender, and then the lye water is carefully poured into the blender.  Lid goes on and I turn the blender on to the fastest setting.  The blending goes on for anywhere from two to five minutes, depending on a crapload of variables that I have yet to comprehend, but probably has something to do with the types of oils used.  You are attempting to blend the gonna-be-soap concoction into what soaping people call "trace".  It's the point where the glop in your blender starts to become, "glop".  Kind'a like cake batter.  But be mindful, because when it happens, it can happen like "BAM!", and I'd be a liar if I said I never blended my soap too long.  It's not fun trying to scoop out a bunch of "this stuff will burn my hand off" goo from your blender that doesn't want to pour out.

Once the soap concoction hits that magical point called "trace", I pour my essential oils in.  For my three-ish pound recipe, I use 1 1/2 ounces Patchouli, 1/2 ounce Lavender and 1/2 ounce Orange essential oils.  Yes, it smells like an old (but clean) Hippie.  The essential oils get mixed in quickly but thoroughly and then the entire hopefully-not-too thick soap concoction gets poured into my plastic-wrap-lined loaf pan.  Technically, I don't need to line the pan with plastic, but my pans tend to occasionally have a bit of rust on them and lining them with the wrap prevents any rust from staining my soap.  But if I don't use the wrap, then no biggie.  And as a bonus, my pans are extra clean afterwards.  To bake my bread in.  Because I'm too cheap to buy a dedicated soap mold.
Brownie and loaf pans.
Soap mold today, onion-dill loaf of bread tomorrow.
Anyways.  Homemade Soap Specialists will tell you that after you pour the soap into your approved soap-making mold, you're supposed to wrap it up in a blanket and keep it someplace warm.  Which I don't.  Because I'm lazy.  And have found that just leaving it on my kitchen counter (and telling my husband that it is NOT some pudding cake so don't for the love of gawd, take a slice and eat it) works just as well.

After the soap sits for about 24 hours, it will solidify and I pop it out of my bread pan and slice it up into whatever sized pieces I want.  I tend to like more of a chunky sized bar vs. your run-of-the-mill bar.  The bars are then placed on a cardboard tray or paper plate, and set up out of the way to cure for the suggested 4 week curing time.  Technically, you can use the soap after a few days, but it will probably still be a bit soft and won't last as long nor lather up as much, so if you can manage to wait the four weeks it's a good idea.  I currently have a bar in the shower that has only cured for ten days and the skin on my face hasn't fallen off.  And I smell like a clean Hippie when I get out.
Bars of soap curing.
So there's how I make soap.  It may not be how you make it, but I'm not you.  And I should probably put in another disclaimer about lye in here, but I'm too lazy to write out an entire "Don't be a Moron" section on the dangers of working with highly caustic chemicals.  So when you're working with lye.....Don't be a Moron, OK?  Good.

Well then.  Are you going to jump into soap making?  It's really not that difficult, and the results can be both satisfying and amazing.  But honestly, do some online research and you'll probably find a better How-To tutorial on soap making than the one I wrote here.  And then you can brag to people that "I made that and it hasn't killed me!"  And maybe give some of it to your family and friends.  Assuming that they believe you that it won't kill them.

And if YOU can believe that it won't kill you, remind me to have a soap giveaway in four weeks and you can find out for yourself!

Sunday, February 22, 2015

Ice Pics

Not Ice Picks:

But Ice Pics:

Just wanted to share a couple of pictures from the ice we got Friday night.

Luckily we didn't get slammed too hard and yesterday afternoon the temps crept up to 39 degrees and melted the accumulated ice off the trees.  That made a nice, slick pool of slush/water on top of everything.  Which means that this morning the entire homestead was an ice skating rink.

I may have to put the goats in costumes and have a Caprine Icecapades show.  Bet people would pay money to see that.

Friday, February 20, 2015

Toasty and Warm (Inside)

Since I have nothing much else to talk about besides how freaking cold it is outside, and I'm sure you are all painfully aware of this fact, I'll show you what has been going on INside.

Where it's toasty warm.  Where there is no snow or sleet or ice.  Where my eyeballs don't frost over.  Where the cats and the GSD have taken up residence in front of the wood stove.  I need to burn some incense or put some of those carpet sprinkles on Charlie because just his exhaling (from both ends) is making the house smell like stale dog food and farts.  I'm a little concerned about his close proximity to the stove as there is the distinct possibility of the dogbutt gasses having concentrated enough to explode into a ball of fire and blast my flaming and charred body across the room if I were to open the door to the wood stove.
Split pea soup with a chunk o' ham bone and a smelly, slow roasting dog.
What else is going on INside?  Well, I've got a pot o' split pea soup on the wood stove.  And we just finished leftover BBQ'd pork ribs and asparagus.  So yeah, imagine the amazing cornucopia of odors that would smack you in the face if you were to walk in here right now.

On to more pleasant, and less offensive to the nose, things going on INside.

A month (or so) ago, Paul got me my wonderful, beautiful, super-dooper double oven.  And he also started working on the counter tops and back splash.
Cabinet above the stove had to be moved up for microwave.
The white, ugly, delaminating laminate counter tops had to go.
The wall behind the stove / fridge needed some finishing.
Even though we're in semi-austerity mode right now, we needed a new microwave.  So that was purchased and Paul installed it.  The counter tops were yanked off and replaced with an oak butcher block.  We purchased it in an 8' unfinished slab and Paul cut it to size, rounded off the edges oiled and sanded it.  Instead of just painting the back wall, I convinced Paul that corrugated roofing material would look cool behind the stove & refrigerator.  And the fact that it was cheaper than buying and installing tile was a bonus.  Although I liked the look of the metal back splash, I still painted up above to bring some color into the kitchen.

Now that I'm pretty sure I'm happy with how the counter tops came out (and their cost-effectiveness), there's the OTHER side of the kitchen to work on:
Yes, there's a cat on my kitchen counter top.  Yes, cat hair is
a recurring ingredient in my cooking.  Deal with it.
That's a LOT of counter top real estate to work with.  We're still undecided if we'll put the butcher block on there or tile it with a terra cotta colored tile.  In all honestly, it probably won't done before next Christmas anyhow so at least it gives me more time to think about it.  At least that's what I'm telling myself.

Monday, February 16, 2015

Fifty Shades of Sleet

Everybody on Facebook is talking about this fifty shades movie and I'm outside trying to keep myself from slipping on the stinking snow covered sheet of ice and getting fifty shades of black and blue.

It started sleeting around 8:30 last night and was on again / off again for hours.  Then came the snow, all three inches of it.  Oh, I know, the horror!  MamaPea, Susan and my other Northern Tundra blogging buddies are probably rolling their eyes and playing the world's tiniest violin for me.

The normal pre-storm preparations were made earlier yesterday afternoon; vacuuming, dishes, laundry, showers, extra hay & bedding for the animals, etc.  Basically anything that would require the use of water or electricity needed to be done before the sleet pounded us.  We haven't been hit recently with any extended periods of power outages, but the ice storm in 2009 is still fresh in our minds.  Thirteen days without power = No Fun.

I'm assuming we'll be stuck in this Ice Encrusted Hell Winter Wonderland until at least Saturday when it finally creeps up past the freezing mark during the day.  Momma doesn't do snow & cold, but at least Rhiannon is happy, albeit a bit chilled when she comes inside:

But it seems that we're in the clear for now as the electricity, and internet (yay for cat videos!), is still on.  If you don't hear from me for a few days, it's because A) the power did go off, B) I'm busy continuing to fight Evil or C) The goats have orchestrated an elaborate kidnapping, have me tied up in the basement and they are sitting around the wood stove and chewing on my curtains.

Hopefully you've prepared for the storm(s) and are snug in your home and all the critters are faring well.  We're stuck with it for a while, so may as well grab a hot cocoa and schooch a little closer to the fire.

Saturday, February 14, 2015

Menopausal Mother Nature

This morning I went to let the chickens out and I did so in my PJ's.   No coat, not hat, no gloves.

Later in the morning I shoved all humans outside to do outsid'ey things. Rhiannon ran around and chased roosters, Paul did something noisy beyond my line of sight, and I continued cleaning out the wasted hay from the goat's feeding area.  After just a few minutes of pitching compost material, I had to shed my undershirt so I didn't overheat.

Lily, one of our pregnant Boer gals, still has her winter coat and it looked like she may have been panting.  Rhiannon came up to me to shed one of her shirts and claimed that she was "Soooo very, very hot.", which although was probably partially true, was also the precursor to "Can I have a smoothie to cool me down?"

So we took a break and headed into the house to prepare the frozen fruit treat.  On the way inside, I spied the thermometer and it read 72 degrees.  Wow.  I could get used to this kind of winter.

After Rhiannon had her blueberry and banana fruit smoothie in hand, she went on the porch and sat on the pile of wood Paul had just deposited there minutes earlier.

Wood that we're going to use starting this evening because it's going to get down to 16 degrees tonight with a high of only 25 tomorrow.  I though I was the one with the night chills and hot flashes, but apparently Mother Nature is going through some hormone imbalances of her own.

Wednesday, February 11, 2015

Six Month Taste Test

Ten minutes ago, I drank this:

And I'm still here.  I'm a teeny-tiny bit buzzed to boot as well.

Waaaaay back in August, Paul and I tried our hands at making our own alcoholic beverage - Mead.  Basically a honey based wine. 

Personally, I would have much rather put the time, money and effort into making a batch of homemade whiskey, but for whatever asinine reasons, one can make wine without governmental intervention, but gawdforbid if you go the extra step to distill that stuff, you'll have the jack booted thugs crashing through your living room window at 3 am, shooting your dog and pointing a gun at your head.

Anyways, where was I?  Oh.  The Mead.

It's been over six months since we dumped a bunch of honey, yeast and raisins into a jug of distilled water (hey, can you distill water, but not wine???).  It sat for almost a month, then when it looked as if the bubbles were finished bubbling, we decanted it into several glass jars.  After a month, there was sediment in the bottoms of the jars so we decanted it again.  During each decantation (? is that like the opposite of an incantation??) we took a sip.  First sip was pretty much gawdawful.  Second time around it was slightly less awful.  This time I decided to pour myself a shot's worth.

And still, it's just "eh".  Actually, I think it was more like an "EH!" after I downed it and unconsciencly jerked my head to the side once it hit me.

Paul said, "It's not terrible.  But it ain't that good either."

Of course, we're going to drink it.  Eventually.  And if the mead continues to improve over time, we may have some truly enjoyable homemade honey wine with our supper.

Say, in 2019.

Monday, February 9, 2015

Lucky Ducks, er, Chickens

After the last midnight chicken massacre, I've been making sure that we close up the chicken door at night.  I put the live trap out a few times, but only managed to catch the new outside cat.

Tonight Paul didn't get out to the coop until just before 8 pm.  He came back inside with a quicker than normal gait and a winded exclamation, "There's a 'possum in the chicken house."  He grabbed the .22 and I threw my book across the bed, rolled out and pulled my boots on.  Before I could make it to the coop I heard the familiar "pop" and correctly assumed that the chicken-eating marsupial's life had been snuffed out.
Sorry, no free meals here buddy.
As the poultry pilfering 'possum writhed on the ground for the remainder of the time it took the brain stem to stop receiving communications from the splattered brain, I opened the doors to the coop to assess the other damage.  Handful of feathers on the ground, freaked out chickens on the perches, squawking chickens in the corner, but not a single chicken casualty.

The chickens dodged a bullet.

The opossum, not so much.

Sunday, February 8, 2015

G.H.A. (Goat Haters Anonymous)

I never had Pickles tested to see if she was pregnant.  I'm assuming she is not.  I hate her.

I'm assuming that Lira (the half Boer half Nubian) is pregnant.  But she's still small, both in the belly and in general stature.  Which is worrying me now.  Her mother wasn't very big, so I wasn't expecting her to be very big, but I'm now concerned about her kidding.  She was bred to Studly, who was only a wee thing himself, so hopefully her kids will be small enough for her first kidding.

Oh, and Lira screams just as much, if not more, than Pickles.  I also hate her.

Herman continually knocks off his head-gear so the effer is always getting his head stuck through the cattle panel fence.  Sometimes I see him out there, stuck, and I yell at him and leave him there just because.  You'd think he'd learn.  You'd think I'd learn (not to get goats with horns).  So yesterday Paul and I had to wrestle with him and duct-tape the PVC pipe back to his noggin.  I hate him.  Herman, not Paul.

Then, there's the fact that the only friendly Boer goat from last year's kidding is Gimpy.  The one we're going to eat.  The other two, Clover & Dilly, run from me every chance they get.  Even when they know it's feeding time.  I have to run after those jerks every stinking day.  And they know that once they get clipped to the fence, that they get to eat.  So, what's with the running away from me?  I've given them treats, I scratch their heads.  But still they run.  I hate them as well.

So, why do I have all these goat that I clearly despise?  Well, it wasn't supposed to be that way.  The three Boers that went to the County Fair last year were supposed to come home, tame, broke & just lovey-dovey.  But the only one that did is the one that's going into the freezer.  The Boer / Nubian cross doeling is not only semi-wild, but will no doubt prove to be a pain during kidding and I'm sure will end up raising kids that will hate me just as much as she does, if not more.

My plan, at least the one I have at this moment, and is sure to change at any time, is that I will try to breed Pickles first time she goes into heat, even if it's in the middle of summer.  If she doesn't take, she's going to the sale barn or into the freezer.  Same for Lira if she isn't a good mother or her kids are for crap.  And honestly, even if Lira's kids are decent, I'll keep the kids and still sell her.  I cannot stand the yelling.

None of my other goats yell like Pickles and Lira, and it is freaking annoying as hell.  You know that "Yelling Sheep"clip on youtube?  Funny, isn't it?  Well, until you hear that ALL freaking day.

Pickles and Lira yell when they see you come out of the house.  They yell if they see a car.  They yell if it's feeding time.  They yell if it's two hours before or after feeding time.  They yell if a gnat lands on their ass.  I H.A.T.E. the yelling.  And it only becomes a yelling match between myself and them.  I open the door to go outside and they yell.  I yell back, "SHUT UP!!".  They yell again.  I scream "WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU?!?".  They yell back.  I then scream some incoherent babble peppered with expletives and stomp back into the house and then Paul says, "You know you're yelling at livestock, right?"

It's a beautiful day today.  I plan on going out into the goat pen to get the kidding stall ready and to muck out the shitton of wasted hay from the picky goats.  Maybe do some weed-pulling and maybe attempt to reclaim my herb garden from the Ozark jungle that took over.

And maybe, just maybe, I can resist the urge to continue the yelling match.

Wednesday, February 4, 2015

Today's Homeschooling Lesson is brought to you by...

The "Cleaning of the Fish Tank" and "The Slicing of My Finger".

We haven't had a biology lesson in some time so when I was cleaning out the fish tank (and wondering exactly why it was we have these stupid goldfish in the first place), I scraped a little bit of the glop into a cup.  I set up the microscope and we viewed the tiny marvels under a 100x power magnifying lens.

After  Rhiannon drew a picture of the different life forms, we went online to try and identify them.

We positively identified vorticella, rotifers, didinium, euglena and paramecium.  Then we watched a video on microbial life in fresh water and came upon the neatest thing I've ever seen (under a microscope, that is); a waterbear.  We didn't have one ourselves, but watched a youtube video on them.  Very cool.

Rhiannon didn't really get past the "neat-o" aspect of the biology lesson, but I am still in awe at the amount of life that we don't even know exists.  Or, the amount of life that we know exists (at least in the back of our heads), but don't even consider in our day to day happenings.  I mean, come on, if you even saw a few seconds of that waterbear, you'd have to start questioning your own place in this universe.  That thing is micro-freaking-scopic.  And it looks like a little eight-legged bear.
This dude lived in space for ten days.  No helmet, no spacesuit.
After filling our brains with biological and microscopic nomenclature in an attempt to become somewhat more intelligent on the subject of paramecium and the amazing tardigrade (fancy pants word for the waterbear), I had a "dumb" moment while preparing a salad for supper that very evening.  I wasn't paying attention and sliced my finger.  That stupid thing bled for what seemed like an eternity.  There was blood everywhere.  Well, maybe not everywhere, but it sure seemed like it.  I'm not a fan of blood on my person, especially those that are caused by slices, so I had Paul clean and bandage me up so I didn't pass out on the kitchen floor.  Yes.  I am one of "those" people.  I can put a bullet through a goat's brain, drain the blood, skin, cut and butcher it, but I tend to get all pale and clammy and occasionally go unconscious if I slice a piece of my own flesh.

Oh, back to the blood bath in the kitchen.

Since there was blood gushing out of my index finger, I grabbed one of the microscope slides still conveniently located on the kitchen counter and smeared some of my life onto it.  Then got to see what red blood cells looked like.
Would you LOOK at all the blood!  I mean, it was just
gushing everywhere.  EVERYwhere!!!!!!  Auuggghhh!!!!
My lifeblood, for all to see, and watch die.
I thought it was neat / freaky.  Rhiannon was pretty much "Eh" about it.  Blood cells don't really "do" anything so I can understand her indifference to it, especially when compared to that waterbear.

But we got to scratch off "Biology" for the day on our school list and I'm now obsessed with waterbears.  Oh, and my finger still hurts.