For External Use Only

One of the items I brought home from last week's fam trip was a 5-ounce bar of handcrafted orange vanilla goat's-milk soap. I haven't put it in the bathroom because I don't want anybody else using it. I might take it to San Angelo with me. But actually I'm troubled by the faint stirrings of a temptation to eat the stuff, because doesn't it sound scrumptious? It sure smells good.

What's with this trend of increasingly edible-sounding personal hygiene products? One of the stops we made on our trip was at a spa - not for treatment, more's the pity, but simply to tour the facilities. They gave us a menu of the services they offer. Many of them involve food in some capacity - massaged into your skin, lathered on your hair, cupped over your eyelids; exfoliating, defoliating, moisturizing, replenishing, rejuvenating, and God-only-knows what else. Just don't eat it.

Men aren't big spa frequenters, are they?

I'm off to San Angelo tomorrow after lunchtime, and won't be back till late Thursday. I'm bringing a bottle of champagne with me - either to celebrate the results of the election, or else to drown my sorrows; we'll find out soon, won't we?

If things get really bad I'm eating the soap.