I smell like a hippie

I’ve been showering for three days now with some soap I picked up while buying bath stuff for Sarah, and Trish keeps telling me I smell like a hippie.

Apparently the Karma soap from LUSH smells exactly like that combination of nag champa and oranges that is forever bound in her mind (and mine too, if I’m being honest) to Grasshopper ImportsIf you’re in Southern Ontario, you should totally stop by there–it’s on that weird stretch of Highway 6, past the mushroom farm, but before the airplane graveyard and the concrete dinosaurs. Or, if you’re going the other way–i.e. starting from Hamilton– then it’s the other way around. Of course if you’re starting from Hamilton you’ll have to work hard to miss it since you see the rainbow side of the store on your way by. (a.k.a. “the hippie store”).

(I can live with that, I’d guess there are worse things in the world to remind myself of than two such essentially harmless people as Greg and Angie.)

I think it’s driving Trish nuts, but I do feel slightly more like there’s nothing funny about peace, love, and understanding. And tie-dye. When did I stop wearing tie-dye… I should dig out some of those shirts…