Tuesday Spotlight: Foaming Hand Soap

It rarely happens, dear reader, but our Tuesday Spotlight shines on our rich, luxurious, moisturizing, gentle foaming hand soap. This week, receive a 25% discount on all our foaming hand soap scents. I am very proud of The Bibbed Wonder's creation of this superior hand soap. I keep a foaming hand soap bottle at every sink on our property. My favorite is our constant stock of Milk and Honey. However, I have greatly enjoyed the seasonal Pumpkin Sandalwood and am now smitten with the Comfort and Joy scent.

As our little company grows, we can fulfill the wishes of our soap family and add more scents to our foaming hand soap line. The next full-time scent added will be lavender. I am in the negotiating stages with my bib overall-wearing business partner. However, until he bends to my will, the scents available are Milk and Honey, Almond, Natural (Unscented), a limited stock of Pumpkin Sandalwood, and Comfort and Joy. If you have experienced the lovely scent of Comfort and Joy in past years, you will be thrilled with this winter seasonal scented hand soap.

The ingredients of this luscious creation are pure, simple, and gentle. I love how soft and moisturized my hands feel after washing with our foaming hand soap. My bib overall-wearing mastermind blended our raw goat's milk with decadent oils such as pumpkin seed, jojoba, olive oil, and shea butter. This soap leaves one's hands feeling soft, clean, pampered, and nourished. I gently encourage you to follow your hand washing with our goat's milk moisturizer for the ultimate hand care routine.

Beginning today, 11/05/2024, and ending 11/11/2024, our hand soaps are on special exclusively on the website. No promo code is needed to save; the savings will be applied at checkout. As always, orders totaling fifty dollars or more after the discount is applied will ship for free.

On this election Tuesday, stay safe, be smart, enjoy the savings, and keep washing your hands.

It's Beginning To Smell A Lot Like Christmas!

Our Soap Subscription boxes make a great gift!

I know it's hard to believe, but it is time to release our holiday line of soaps and moisturizers. We are releasing our holiday line a little later than usual but are excited to share it with you. So, without further adieu, our holiday soaps and moisturizers are for your sniffing pleasure.

This year, we have once again created The Mean One and Maximus because who doesn't love a big green grump who learns a valuable lesson and gives hope that anyone's heart can grow two sizes? The Mean One is scented with a nostalgic blend of brown sugar, spiced cranberries, a hint of patchouli, and a citrus end note. This oil blend reminds me of how our house smelled when I was a child at Christmas time. It is pure nostalgia for me.

It would not do to have a Grinch without his sweet, loving sidekick, Max. Max is The Bean's creation. She loves all versions of The Grinch, but her favorite is the original with poor little Max. Max is scented with a blend of apples and pears, eucalyptus, pine, vanilla, and cedarwood. This soap and moisturizer are the sweet counterpart to the spicy Mean One.

We have also brought back our soap family favorites, Naughty and Nice. Which one are you, dear reader? Naughty is a black and white soap complete with lumps of coal on top (don't worry, it's all soap). Naughty blends black currant, saffron, amber, and vanilla. It is rich, dark, decadent, and oh, so naughty.

If you are more of a Nice girl or boy, we have a sweet, yummy option for you. We have blended coconut, jasmine, amber, cocoa butter, cedar wood, and musk to create a warm, sweet, delicious scent that is the sweet counterpart to the spicy naughty. I encourage you to be nice, but embracing your naughty occasionally is fun. (Insert a wink and smile).

Although I enjoy all our holiday scents, my absolute favorite remains Comfort and Joy. Comfort and Joy is a beautiful coumarin or freshly mown hay scent that is soft, a bit powdery, and very gentle and mild. I cannot get enough of this scent. If you appreciated my Fields of Gold creation earlier in the year, you, too, will love Comfort and Joy. We now offer Comfort and Joy in a bar soap, a moisturizer, and a foaming hand soap. I am a frequent hand washer, but when Comfort and Joy foaming hand soap is waiting for me at the sink, I wash my hands even more often.

Merry Berry has returned for all my fruity-scent-loving soap family members. Merry and bright is how I would best describe the scent of Merry Berry. The scent is a blend of juicy orange, red raspberry, and cranberry, leading to a yummy midsection of apple blossom, blackberry, and strawberry. It finishes with a luscious base of blond wood and mistletoe. It is bright, fresh, clean, and sweet. Merry Berry is my second favorite holiday scent.

Last but definitely not least is our Christmas hallmark, Elf Fart. Not only is it great for a giggle, it smells incredible and is terrific for your skin. It's hard to believe that The Bean created this eight years ago. How time flies. However, this fun little creation never gets old. Of course, The Bean finds bodily functions hysterical, so it only made sense to create a story about her Elf on The Shelf and how she imagined Twinkle's flatulence would smell.

(Sigh...she truly is her father's daughter). The Bean blended a cranberry base with brown sugar, a hint of vanilla, and a finish of sweet orange. It is fun, fruity, sweet, and warm, a lot like my girl. Elf Fart is a fun gift idea for little ones if they have a (God Forsaken, pain in the a$$, why do I do this to myself as a mother, who in the love of all that is holy remembers to move that stupid, f@#$%&* elf every single day for thirty days) Elf on the Shelf. It also makes a fun gift if you participate in a Secret Santa gift exchange.

That, dear reader, is our holiday line for 2024. I hope you enjoy it as much as we enjoyed creating it. I must admit, I love what we do, and creating our holiday line continues to be the highlight of my year. Our complete holiday line is now available on the website. Allow me to forewarn you Elf Fart moisturizer is currently out of stock. It was quite popular at Ligonier Country Market's Holiday Market on Saturday. We are making a fresh batch first thing this morning, and it will be back online before the day ends. Patience, my friends. To all my wonderful readers, I wish you the most joyous, love-filled, happy holiday season ever. Embrace your traditions, family, and time together. I hope our soaps and moisturizers made from the milk of our well-loved goats make you smile and enrich your holiday season.

On this unusually warm November day, stay safe, be smart, welcome the holiday season with open arms, don't forget to laugh and enjoy yourself, and keep washing your hands.

November's Man Blog

Who could resist riding a pig on a carousel?

The stars have aligned this month, and I have had to do what I never do: get in a car and leave the farm for an extended amount of time. These rare occurrences always leave me feeling like I need to shower. It is not just a typical shower, but one of those almost-boiling -water-that-gets-the-filth-off-you kind of shower. It has been brewing for a rather long time; the high-mileage Buick turned ten years old. Apparently, vehicles and dogs age much in the same way. There were some rather rough gear shifting and the occasional weird-sounding clunks on bumps, but nothing that was that big of a deal until the power steering started lacking both in the power and the steering. Considering it was not the first time we had the issue, and the fact that my current wife has not forgotten that we have not had an outing from the farm since before COVID, our back was indeed against the wall.

We both view vehicles as a necessary evil. We aren't car people. Fancy cars aren't our thing. I have developed a habit of spraying the underside of our vehicles with lanolin. Lanolin is some sort of wool juice that smells awful but prevents rust. To make it even more apparent, we both hate anything to do with vehicle purchasing. I would rather waste an entire day and smell like a sheep than car shop. I really don't get the process. We all have Google, Kelly Blue Book, and access to every vehicle for sale within a hundred-mile radius. I don't want to play the game of what a big favor the dealership is doing for me. Quit wasting my time, tell me the price, and let us both move on.

I have been saying that the world is upside down for years. I have quoted my pap saying, "In my day, people ate in the house and used the outhouse. Now everyone goes out to eat and poops in their home." Used cars are now the same price as new ones. Everywhere we looked, it was the same. I always thought brand new was a waste of money. Two years old with low miles was the way to go. It turns out it is not the case now. Two years old with low miles doesn't save anything. For the first and hopefully the last time, we bought something new. In another ten years (fingers crossed 15), I cannot figure out how to operate a car. The simplest knobs and dials have been replaced with what seems to be the love child of a phone and tablet. We must switch screens to turn the heat on and change the radio channel. I haven't figured out how to keep the high beams on because they are automatic. Great idea, but if someone doesn't dim their lights, I quit dimming mine. At least I did. Now, I complain about over-engineering.

I drive slowly. I figure five over the speed limit is acceptable for the open road. I set the cruise for five over the speed limit. The speed limit is a man's law, not God's. There is some grey area there. However, there is another feature I haven't figured out how to bypass. Now, a sensor slows down Stanley the Subaru when he approaches a vehicle with the cruise set. If it were a reasonable distance, it would not be an issue. There is about a quarter-mile gap—just enough space for more vehicles to cut in front, throwing Stanley into a full-blown poke-along speed. If I happen to go over a line, he will beep at me. Bless his heart, but if my options are to put a bit more space between me and a rig, I'd rather squeeze the shoulder a bit.

I am not an aggressive driver. If someone needs to change lanes, I let them in. I let them in when it was a poorly laid out traffic pattern, and they were blindsided about which lane they needed until then. If there are thirty miles of signs saying get the hell out of the left lane; it closes, then I become more of a prick. I refuse to make eye contact or give enough room for a sane person to push in. Nothing beats the thrill of the open highway when two semis are drag racing, with one going exactly half a mile an hour faster than the other for six hours of backing up traffic. I love the folks who must fly up the slow lane and cut in front. A fundamental skill learned in kindergarten about line-cutting has been thrown out the window. That is when I took Stanley out of his comfort zone and rode the bumper in front of me to prevent that nonsense. Up until this trip, I did anyway. We just about rubbed bumpers with a line jumper, causing me to lay on the horn and express my gratitude for the existence of an ill-behaved driver. When I got to pull up beside said driver and bless her, she was on her phone—not talking, but texting. That's when I realized all the stupid features in new cars are necessary. Cars are designed to help the barely functioning keep functioning now. Hell, I feel guilty checking my phone at a long-winded stoplight. During this trip, I noticed over half the drivers had their faces on their phones. For the love of God, I hated my phone until we started doing what we do as a full-time job. It was always a way to be a phone call away from work. I still refuse to acknowledge that I have a phone for most of the day. Being disconnected as much as I can be is a good thing.

The primary purpose of our trip was because Jordan was in some sort of get Taylor Swift tickets at a special price if you won the Swifty ticket lottery. She won. She "won" the opportunity to purchase tickets to see Taylor in New Orleans. I remember, at one point, New Orleans was the murder capital of the US. I have been asking for the last year and a half if New Orleans has improved or if Chicago has just upped its game. No clear answer has been given to me. Cities have never been a place where I have been comfortable. The older I get, the worse it is. The town of Indiana, Pennsylvania, has less than 20,000 people. I avoid going into the town at almost all costs. My day is ruined if I can't be out of town by 9 am. But heaven, hell, or high water, we were going to the Big Easy.

Another fantastic trait of mine is my hatred of flying. I don't worry about crashing. There wouldn't be enough time to worry about much if things go sideways on an airplane. I hate the cramped squeeze everyone into a winged tube as tight as possible experience of flying. I hate the fact that taxpayers bailed out the airlines and still offer the world's worst experience. I hate that the last time we flew, Tina gave me some sort of Hippo tranquilizer in my coffee, and I don't remember any of it. I hate the recycled air on an airplane. Do the math. Chances are, whatever is coming out of the air vent is someone else's fart. After years of being forced to fly for a Christmas party with my wife, at the time, rubbing my arm and trying to make it better, she has finally given up on putting this plow boy in an airplane.

Since we were not captives on the winged tube of recycled butt gas, we were free to stop wherever we saw fit. Pigeon Forge, Tennessee, was almost precisely halfway between home and the destination. We got to take in Dollywood as well as the Titanic Museum. The Titanic was interesting. I saw the movie; it was a pretty big spoiler for the museum. We lucked out on the weather. It was warm and clear, and since school had already started, there were no lines to be had at any of the rides. Here's another fun fact about getting old: I would never ride on one of those roller coasters of my own free will. I don't remember the feeling of being beaten when I was younger the way I do now. I am happier on the old train around the park than the high-speed neck snappers. We discovered a Brazilian steak house. Jordan worded it best: they have mastered the germ-free buffet. All we had to do was plop down and turn our card to green for more food or red to indicate that we were about to explode. Those folks stuffed food on your plate like you were a French goose. I don't know what other gems are being kept secret in South America, but this one was perfection.

After three days, we had to head south. I have always heard that Southerners are freer people. In Alabama, we witnessed firsthand what that meant. On an interstate, we came upon a car with blinkers on. It turns out it was being towed by another car that was towed by an SUV on its last leg. There were three vehicles all together going down the road. In total, we passed four or five similar setups. I don't know if they were all going to the junkyard. My theory is road pirates. If your car breaks down, they drag it away. I don't think the genius engineers at any of the car companies could prepare themselves for anything like that. I felt like we were headed for Thunderdome.

We were fortunate enough to have a brief stop at Gulfport, Mississippi (is there anyone out there who can type Mississippi without singing it?) A good meal of seafood and getting our feet in the ocean was fantastic. However, it was short-lived before we had to drive the last two hours into Southern Paris. Another part of my life that I enjoy is my commute to work. I walk. Not because I am a fitness nut but because the house to the shop is less than one hundred yards away. I don't have to do traffic. Guess what starts what seems to be hundreds of miles from Crawfish Town? Lanes and lanes of traffic. Like any old driver, I had the radio turned down to see and concentrate better.

At last, we made it. We parked our car at the hotel—another fun fact is that parking garages at hotels are more like hotels for your vehicle. Those sons of bitches charge a parking fee. If I were within walking distance, I would go home. At any rate, we dumped the car and went for a stroll through the city. I don't know exactly what the breaking point is before a simple brain like mine explodes with overstimulation. I do know I was getting close. When we could get checked in, we did. We got into our Jordan-approved outfits and headed for the Super Dome, along with waves of glittery hyper Jordan-aged girls. I can't say I am a fan. It was a great show. I enjoyed watching the kid have a blast at something she wanted to see. I was beyond impressed at the production, command of the crowd, and superb showmanship of both performers. I now know that the Baby, I'm a Firework song is not Taylor Swift, but the other one.

We spent another day in the city, getting rested and taking in some sites. Truth be told, we needed to get a few tee shirts and souvenirs and had already seen enough sites. I like my space. I like seeing the sun in the afternoon, all afternoon. I like being able not to see another person anywhere. We were all getting tired of the city. The following day, at two in the morning, we were loaded and headed home. A great fact about my tribe is that the female members are always like herding squirrels. If we have to go anywhere, the eldest female member of the tribe is five to ten minutes behind schedule. The youngest and most feral member is five to ten minutes later than that. The morning of the grand departure, they were both ripping the door off the hinges to get on the road. The ride home was stopping for gas and, of course, fireworks in a more free southern state.

Because the fact that my traveling is slightly more frequent than the appearance of locusts, this may be the only Man Travel Blog for years. Until next month, visit a Brazilian Steak Non-Buffet, dip your feet in some salt water, don't breathe recycled farts, stay safe, and wash on.