I hadn’t seen Dial glycerin soap since I was in grade school, so when I did I could almost taste the imitation raspberry flavor. I grinned, remembering being eight years old and holding onto this little secret: it didn’t taste all that bad. My mother said I had to sit on her toilet think about mouthing off and cussing at my older sister. Instead of thinking about losing my temper or using bad language, I compared the soaps I’d tasted over my cursing career. Continue reading “Soap”