Soap Saver
After her graduation from the University of Maryland, JUNE BROWN did promotional and. publicity work in Washington. She now keeps house for her family in Madison, Wisconsin.
by JUNE BROWN
MINE is a model husband, but he saves soap.
This may appear an innocuous whim, something akin to salvaging old rubber bands, but it is not. It’s a process as long and complicated as knitting an Argyle afghan.
First my husband rescues all the little pieces of soap which are so elusive and annoying — particularly when they get into a drain — and puts them in a Mason jar. During these gatherings, he bears a marked resemblance to a squirrel scurrying around hoarding nuts. This goes on until we have a half jar of scraps.
The jar then contains not only expensive and perfumed toilet soaps, but also the bits left over in the kitchen. My husband is very democratic about soap.
On our soapmaking night we put all the little pieces in a pan, adding a small amount of water. We mix the soap and water and heat the mixture. W e add more water and mix until we eventually have reduced the whole mess — and I use the word advisedly — to a jelly like substance. This procedure takes about two hours. Wafts of Night of Love and Sweetheart’s Kiss blend with those of Rubaiub, giving the effect of the intermingled odors of an arcade market on a hot Saturday night.
The jelly like mixture is allowed to cool and congeal. While it’s still soft, it is shaped into two or three cakes. In the finished product are a streak of green, a streak of white, a lump of brown, a gob of blue, a smattering of pink, a large dab of gray. But there are cakes of soap large enough to use — and made from scraps!
After we have made all the little pieces into two or three large bars, they can be diminished to litt le pieces, and we can start all over again. Frustrating, isn’t it?