False sense of spring

The weather doppler looks like an inland freezing hurricane. Sleet and snow and wind and all that other hogwash, and all I could do on the way home from a great dance was pray they didn't salt the roads again...I know that sounds backwards for the sake of all the people who have to drive in this kind of crap, and truly it is. My concern is for them first and foremost, because my sweetie is one of them. But please let me whine for just a moment.
If the salt goes back on the roads, we wait for the rains to wash it back off again before the Night Train and the Silver Streak come out to play again. And we don't want to wait anymore. We're like two little kids sitting at the window with our noses pressed again the panes while the sleet beats on the other side. Gotta be the worst time of year for us.
Okay, I'm done bitching.
Like the new paint job in here? I got tired of the cookie cutter blog-skin. I was reading a Feng Shui book, "Feng Shui, Step By Step" by T.Raphael Simons, and decided to try out some of the information. It said my birthdate in the third Chinese season of the year, whose corresponding element is fire, and the affiliated colors are purples ranging to reds--the colors of fire. Hence the new colors on the blog skin. I'm still reading the book, which I find extremely interesting and comprehensive. It appears we intuitively chose the right colors when we painted our bedroom to create harmony between us, and indeed, that room is one of the most calming in the house.
I have been making soap, cutting soap, talking about soap on Twitter and Facebook and to all my friends, thinking about how to sell soap, looking for farm markets locally, primping my labels and brochures and a banner for our canopy, and working out the new smaller guest soap size for production. Soap started out as just a hobby because it smelled so good, and more is always better, right? Oy. We have 4 new soaps drying and several more in the works. The new ones will be ready for sale mid-April.
Something tells me I should knit something while I wait for the real spring to please stand up. It has a meditative quality about it, and once the outside is no longer behaving like the Siberian steppe, the Pink Lady will wait for me again while the Silver Streak takes me looking for harmless trouble.