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The Living Without Series

This is a series of posts that I wrote back in 2006 on living with less stuff. Check them out: liv011Living #2liv031liv04

Coal Creek Farm on Facebook

The Chicken Doctor

April

The Architect

Clay

flash back stupidity

Remember back in 1980 when Mount St. Helens erupted?  I was ten years old, but I recall the news reports, I watched the clips of the ashes falling so gently like snow, burying everything.  It’s amazing that only 57 people were killed, but thousands of animals perished.


Fast Tube by Casper

Why am I thinking of this catastrophic event?

Remember in my last post when I thought my legs had died because when I hopped in the shower, I looked down and they were blue?  Yes?  And then you all said, “April it’s probably the dye in your jeans.”  And then I was all like, “Dur-hur…”  because I wore the jeans the next day and my legs died another death and I realized how utterly stupid I am.  Well, it reminded me of another time my brain shut down in the shower.

So, back to Mount St. Helens.  In 1980 my Aunt Dandy, who lives in Seattle, sent my sister and I two decorative glass bottles filled with a light grey/blue material that looked like soap shavings for Christmas.  The jars were from a very popular company that had produced these octagonal jars with bubble bath and they were very recognizable to young girls.  I was so excited about getting one of the jars and couldn’t wait to use the bubble bath.  Somewhere in my tiny brain I had a bit of doubt that the bubble bath wasn’t quite right.  So, I decided to test it in the shower before pouring it in a tub full of water.  I hopped in the shower, took the rubber stopper out of the bottle and gave the front of my body a quick splash of the stuff.  It only took a few seconds for me to realize that the stuff my aunt sent was not bubble bath, but was in fact ashes from Mount St. Helens and I had just baptized the front of my body with it.  The ashes were filled with grit and dirt, it clung to my skin.  I quickly put the stopper back in the bottle and started rinsing off the ashes and grit.  In one respect I was disappointed that the bottle didn’t contain bright pink bubbly crystals, but on the other hand, my aunt sent me a small piece of history and I washed half of it down the drain.

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