Expensive Soap

When Grace came back from France in December, she brought an array of delicately scented soaps that she bought for 1 Euro each in the market in Aix en Provence.
We cherished each one. The olive oil soap bathing our dry winter skin. The lemon verbena with its sharp scent waking us in the mornings. The lavender soap soothing us with its calming fragrance. Those soaps are long gone now, so while walking through Trader Joe's, I stopped at the soap section and debated. The oatmeal soap was inexpensive. So was the honey soap, but I was lured in by the blue soap with bits of lavender added. $3.99 seemed a little pricey for 1 bar of soap, but I figured it was cheaper than a flight to France and visit to the market in Provence. So I bought it.

I did not anticipate the complaints from the men in my house. Little pieces of lavender left in the bathtub or that they needed to rinse off their bodies afterward apparently annoyed them. One of them even called the soap, "Hairy." So I stopped buying the lavender soap and switched to the honey or oatmeal.

Then Grace and I were at Trader Joe's yesterday, looking at soaps again. I looked longingly at the lavender soap, even picking it up to read the label "Bisous de Provence" which means kisses from Provence. Then I reluctantly replaced it on the shelf.

"I love that soap," I said.

"Me too," Grace said.

"Wait, I thought you hated it."

"No, that's just Dad and the boys. I say we get it and let them deal with it."

And we did. Now my morning shower involves the sweet scent of lavender, and an extra rinse at the end to remove the hairiness.

It's one way to bring a little of southern France to my life everyday -- without the expensive flight.