Salt

I had no idea that there was so much you could do with salt. I perceived it as a cooking standard; something for foot soaks, a symbol of hospitality—a traditional Russian welcome is the presentation of salt and bread—there's the well used phrase “salt of the earth,” salt in wounds, sowing the earth with salt; there is a structure made of salt (a hotel in Bolivia) and it's also the title of an acclaimed novel by Earl Lovelace, one of the few books that my long-standing women's book group did not finish at all; usually, at least half the attendees have actually read the book in its entirety. At least I didn’t select Salt and the academic who did admitted that she didn’t finish it. (Our current selection is a biography of Victoria Woodhull. Fun.)

The salt products available at Solay Wellness bring NaCl into service for every aspect of being: salt lamps, salt jewelry, cooking salt, dog cookies, plant food, pillows, shampoo, face masks, and tooth powder. Apparently Hippocrates advocated salt inhalation, and instead of boiling seawater, a pipe for salt-breathing is offered. While I did not have the opportunity to test the negative ion flow that the lamps purport to offer, the cleanser and mud masks are definitely superior. My pores shrank and glowed after a minimal period under the dense olive clay.

The green tea and salt shampoo suds most exuberantly, and rinses well, without a sticky after-coat. As for the cooking salt, my hypertension dictates that I avoid it entirely, and I will pass it along to the chef at the Elevate Difference test kitchens, code name 'Cookie'. Or should it be 'Salty'? Something to consider as I take a long soak in a salt bath—the copy of the Lovelace book has been located. On my 'to read' list along with Jean Toomer's Cane. Maybe that means I need to get a sugar scrub.

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