Today, in honor of MLK, Velinda and I took a trip down to the French Quarter (or "quarters," since it is MLK day after all). She'd been told by a friend about a store on St. Peter's that sold some sort of homemade coconut butter soap, supposedly "good for her hair type."
We found the place, which looked rather like a bakery to me. The soaps were all of a very homemade type. I thought initially that they might be frying 'em up in the back room.
But as it turns out, so the salesgirl said, that they were made in Toronto, of all ungodly places. She also went on to tell us that "Angelina Jolie and some other-actress-whose-name-escapes-me-just-now had just been there not long ago.
Whatever.
Much more interesting to me than Angelina Jolie were blobs of a jell-o like substance that the salesgirl *swore* was soap.
I didn't believe her.
(You can see it here yourself. I wouldn't blame you if you didn't believe me)
Suddenly, she tossed a big ball of of foaming salts (a "bath bomb" she called it) into what looked like a big crawfish pot. It sizzled like it was boiling. Then she demonstrated the jell-o soap. It really did work, too.
"Really good for the feet," she informed us. "I like my feet to feel good."
(ummm ok)
When she left, Velinda and I fumbled around for the jell-o in the fizzing pot of bath bomb salts. We ended up throwing soap at each other like the 10 year olds we were. Thankfully she bought a lot of product, so they couldn't throw us out.
After that, we drove up to the Degas house and got a free tour, by pretending to be a married couple looking for accomodations for visiting relatives. All good clean fun.
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