Saturday, February 28, 2015
The Pink Elephant: Where I'm At
The Pink Elephant: Where I'm At: Seriously you guys, I am really sucking at life right now. I'm losing my patience at work, with Ellis, with Aaron (this is not a new thi...
Where I'm At
Seriously you guys, I am really sucking at life right now. I'm losing my patience at work, with Ellis, with Aaron (this is not a new thing), with myself, my sweet mom, my sock drawer, my cellulite, my endless pile of post-its on my desk with little notes that have some relevance, may have some relevance someday, but maybe not, in which case they are just taking up space. I'm losing patience with the fact that my house is never clean. Like, never ever. I clean everyday but it's still not clean. I think maybe if we move out it will be clean?
I am aware of a few things that I have done/am doing that are adding to my general state of assholeishness:
1. I have an overactive nervous system. I have a million things going on at all times. I always have and when I don't, I feel agitated and lazy. The other day I told Aaron that the thing I miss most about being single and childless was staying in bed all day watching movies. Ironically, I've never actually done that. What's the best remedy for an overactive nervous system? Exercise. At least for me. It's my medicine. I'm not a psycho exerciser. As exercisers go, I'm a slacker. I do however have to do it at least every other day. Everyday is best. So, as you've probably surmised, I have not been exercising.
2. I am lucky not to suffer from food sensitivities. I avoid certain foods because they make me feel like crap. Sugar, simple carbs, strangely, popcorn, are the three biggest offenders. When I eat them on a regular basis I become so grumpy. My body feels sluggish, bloated, I become hyper vigilant about everything I eat, and not in a healthy way. So, needless to say, I have been living on a diet of bread, Dove chocolate hearts, and wine. There's some bacon in there, a little of that $10 cheese from Cid's, and of course, green chili.
3. I have been actively and steadfastly minding other people's business. Always a recipe for disaster.
4. I am obsessed with making cushions for my breakfast bonco, refurbishing my great grandmother's hutch, ripping out the office in our bedroom so I don't stare at it thinking of all the work things I need to do while I'm supposed to be doing all the other things you do in bedrooms, redecorating the bedroom, fixing up the backyard, installing a pull-out shelf for the trash. C H I L L Dorothy...
5. This is the hardest one to talk about. I have been a terrible parent for the last couple weeks. Ellis has entered a new phase and I feel wholly unprepared or blindsided or both and I have no time to catch up, brush up my parenting skills, deal with my lifelong struggle with, um, life. I am frantically reading my Circle of Security notes, while I eat Dove chocolate hearts, and it all seems like a really good idea but then Ellis has a mental breakdown because I won't let her wear flip-flops during the biggest storm since 1991, or this is a good one, she doesn't have a bra. I know that if I was taking care of myself, my reservoir of patience would be so much deeper.
So, these are my woes. Any advice on how to balance it all, how any of you have figured this out, I am all ears.
I know being grateful also helps so before I go, here is what I'm thankful for: My new 2015 Passion Planner, my handful of new highlighters for said 2015 Passion Planner, The Bachelor, Scandal, my new snowboarding boots that fit my feet like a DREAM, my uncanny ability to nail scrambled eggs like every. single. time., my beautiful child who is perfect, I am healthy, my family and friends are healthy, I LOVE my job. Today I met the man who saved Aaron from being in a wheelchair for the rest of his life, so I'm thankful for him and for our guardian angels.
I am aware of a few things that I have done/am doing that are adding to my general state of assholeishness:
1. I have an overactive nervous system. I have a million things going on at all times. I always have and when I don't, I feel agitated and lazy. The other day I told Aaron that the thing I miss most about being single and childless was staying in bed all day watching movies. Ironically, I've never actually done that. What's the best remedy for an overactive nervous system? Exercise. At least for me. It's my medicine. I'm not a psycho exerciser. As exercisers go, I'm a slacker. I do however have to do it at least every other day. Everyday is best. So, as you've probably surmised, I have not been exercising.
2. I am lucky not to suffer from food sensitivities. I avoid certain foods because they make me feel like crap. Sugar, simple carbs, strangely, popcorn, are the three biggest offenders. When I eat them on a regular basis I become so grumpy. My body feels sluggish, bloated, I become hyper vigilant about everything I eat, and not in a healthy way. So, needless to say, I have been living on a diet of bread, Dove chocolate hearts, and wine. There's some bacon in there, a little of that $10 cheese from Cid's, and of course, green chili.
3. I have been actively and steadfastly minding other people's business. Always a recipe for disaster.
4. I am obsessed with making cushions for my breakfast bonco, refurbishing my great grandmother's hutch, ripping out the office in our bedroom so I don't stare at it thinking of all the work things I need to do while I'm supposed to be doing all the other things you do in bedrooms, redecorating the bedroom, fixing up the backyard, installing a pull-out shelf for the trash. C H I L L Dorothy...
5. This is the hardest one to talk about. I have been a terrible parent for the last couple weeks. Ellis has entered a new phase and I feel wholly unprepared or blindsided or both and I have no time to catch up, brush up my parenting skills, deal with my lifelong struggle with, um, life. I am frantically reading my Circle of Security notes, while I eat Dove chocolate hearts, and it all seems like a really good idea but then Ellis has a mental breakdown because I won't let her wear flip-flops during the biggest storm since 1991, or this is a good one, she doesn't have a bra. I know that if I was taking care of myself, my reservoir of patience would be so much deeper.
So, these are my woes. Any advice on how to balance it all, how any of you have figured this out, I am all ears.
I know being grateful also helps so before I go, here is what I'm thankful for: My new 2015 Passion Planner, my handful of new highlighters for said 2015 Passion Planner, The Bachelor, Scandal, my new snowboarding boots that fit my feet like a DREAM, my uncanny ability to nail scrambled eggs like every. single. time., my beautiful child who is perfect, I am healthy, my family and friends are healthy, I LOVE my job. Today I met the man who saved Aaron from being in a wheelchair for the rest of his life, so I'm thankful for him and for our guardian angels.
Thursday, February 5, 2015
Bottie
I know the exact moment it happened. Between the Strangler Fig and the Cahune Palm. I knew I was being bit, I slapped my back but it was too late. I instantly thought, "I hope I don't get malaria."
That night, while I was frantically applying antihistamine lotion to my badly bitten ankles, I felt a pinch in my back, in the same spot that I had been bitten in the jungle. Another pinch. "Hmm...mosquito bites don't usually hurt." As I cozied up in bed that night, I added "painful bites in Belize" to my hypochondriac web search, which produced the following: stingray, shark, and crocodile. Not helpful.
While my Mosquito bites continued to swell and itch, the bites on my back continued to pinch. They itched a little, but more like something was crawling on me. Then it would stop and pinch again. It was subtle. Obvious, but subtle. I remember mentioning it to Aaron a couple times and he provided his usual response, "Hmm. Weird."
It wasn't until I was back in the states that I started to worry that my little pinch was a botfly. I watched my first "botfly removal" YouTube video in the Dallas Airport, threw up a little in my mouth and decided it was most definitely not a botfly. Please God, no.
Day 5, I noticed that a hole had formed in the middle of each bite. Not a good sign. They call that a "breathing tube." Seriously.
Day 8, I'm noticing a pattern of behavior, wherein the bite itches at specific times, hurts at specific times, and feels totally normal at specific times. Everyday, the same. I grew a baby in my stomach, this is too familiar. Is it sleeping and then burrowing and eating? My flesh? Oh.my.god.
Day 11, I KNOW it's a botfly. I'm an anxious person and I can make up some ridiculous shit but I know when something is living inside my skin. I'm totally dumbfounded by the people who don't know something is living in their skin and then their drunk friend pulls out a full grown worm. Really? You didn't feel that?
So I made the decision to force someone at urgent care to cut me open. I walked in pumped and ready to sell my case. If the doctor turned me away I was prepared to cry, beg, chain myself to the door, threaten malpractice. It was going in that direction too. She started to mention that I could "go home and..." At which point I cut her off and said, brazen and annoyed, "can't you just cut me open?" Her face lit up, "well, YEAH!"
Before she cut she called a friend who runs urgent cares in third world countries. She put him on speaker phone:
Doc: what can you tell me about botflies?
Third world Doc: do you have one?!
Doc: maybe....
Third world Doc: I'm coming up! [he lives in Santa Fe when he's not ridding the world of parasites].
Doc: no way! This is mine!
Disappointed, Third world went on to explain how to triage a botfly site, how to drain it, and my doc finally interjected, "She [me] wants me to just cut her open." To which third world doc, stumbling over words, exclaimed, "oh! Well then cut her open!" I nodded enthusiastically.
She drapped me, numbed me and then cut. I was laying on my stomach, both sets of fingers crossed. I prayed she would find a bug. A hair follicle. A tumor with teeth and a spine, something. Unfortunately it's not totally out of the question for me to dream up a botfly infestation.
I once had a mental breakdown in the parking lot of public health because I had convinced myself I was HIV positive. And then there was the time I tried to talk my gynecologist into removing both of my ovaries because they were most likely days away from cancer.
Half way through canvassing my incision, Doc said, "I don't know honey, you might just be crazy." My heart sank. I panicked. "I effing posted this on Facebook!" A few moments passed. A mixture of depression and questioning Doc's competence was sinking in and then she whispered, "No fucking way."
She pulled something out, stuck it on my face. It was little, sinister and unabashedly covered in my blood. She was excited, breathless, "I have to put this under the microscope! You're bleeding. Is that ok?" "Yes! Go!" From the other room I heard it, clear as day, Doc yelling, "YES! I love my job! Best day ever!" My clenched fist thrust into the air. Victory.
She ran back into the room. "Get dressed! Come see!" She paused, "Wait, stitches." She sewed me up, threw my shirt at me and when I opened the door, there were two lines of urgent care workers. Like a processional, they led me to the microscope. I peered in. There he was, Bottie.
I've enjoyed the pain of my incision far more than watching the other bite grow and increasingly itch and now, well, just know that it gets grosser. I have a random physical tomorrow that I scheduled a month ago. I'm hoping we can skip the physical and go straight to cutting Bottie 2 out. I'm ready for it to be over. Most disgusting thing that has ever happened to me. By far.
Tuesday, December 23, 2014
He said
Be pleasing. Don't forget to smile. Tone it down Dorothy.
He said, " If she thinks she is intellectually superior, she has another thing coming."
He said, " I will put her in her place."
He said, "She's too tall. Too Blonde. Too Young."
Most of the time I think that we've come a long way. Ask my mom. On any given day I can be recorded as saying, "Mom, it isn't like that anymore." Most of the time, it isn't. The most trouble I've had in my professional career has been with other women. I can count on one hand the women who have mentored me. Who understand what it feels like to be beautiful and smart. Even as I say this, I know there will be fall out. She thinks she's beautiful. What a cocky bitch. He said that too. He called me "cocky." Do you know how many women have been abused so that you can call me "cocky"?
What if, maybe, I'm good at what I do? What if I worked hard to be where I am? Harder than you. What if I don't think, for a fucking second, that I should change who I am so that you will be more comfortable?
And yet, your comments are aggressive. They make me feel unsafe. They make me question myself. What I do. My role. I'm walking on egg shells so that the peace isn't disturbed. So that I'm not shamed for having been associated with anything less than ideal.
In the next couple days I will know what to do. Lucky for you, I have been here before so I am confused, triggered, and feeling shameful about something that has absolutely nothing to do with me. It will all become clear, as it always does. You won't win. Not against us. Your are a dinosaur. Extinct. Irrelevant..
To my five fingers: Mom, Laurie, Susan, Jehan, Patsy. Warrior women, you give me wings, and claws. I am eternally grateful.
He said, " If she thinks she is intellectually superior, she has another thing coming."
He said, " I will put her in her place."
He said, "She's too tall. Too Blonde. Too Young."
Most of the time I think that we've come a long way. Ask my mom. On any given day I can be recorded as saying, "Mom, it isn't like that anymore." Most of the time, it isn't. The most trouble I've had in my professional career has been with other women. I can count on one hand the women who have mentored me. Who understand what it feels like to be beautiful and smart. Even as I say this, I know there will be fall out. She thinks she's beautiful. What a cocky bitch. He said that too. He called me "cocky." Do you know how many women have been abused so that you can call me "cocky"?
What if, maybe, I'm good at what I do? What if I worked hard to be where I am? Harder than you. What if I don't think, for a fucking second, that I should change who I am so that you will be more comfortable?
And yet, your comments are aggressive. They make me feel unsafe. They make me question myself. What I do. My role. I'm walking on egg shells so that the peace isn't disturbed. So that I'm not shamed for having been associated with anything less than ideal.
In the next couple days I will know what to do. Lucky for you, I have been here before so I am confused, triggered, and feeling shameful about something that has absolutely nothing to do with me. It will all become clear, as it always does. You won't win. Not against us. Your are a dinosaur. Extinct. Irrelevant..
To my five fingers: Mom, Laurie, Susan, Jehan, Patsy. Warrior women, you give me wings, and claws. I am eternally grateful.
Sunday, June 1, 2014
Never been so tired after a 2 week vacation.
One of my writing teachers once told me to never preface anything. Whatever lady. She clearly didn't write about her kids. So, let me proudly preface this by saying that I am coming off of two weeks of vacation with Ellis. No school for her, no work for me. Stay-at-home moms are rolling their eyes and making exasperated guttural noises right now. Go ahead, judge me. Yes, two weeks without a work break and with Ellis' daddy on a fire, is a lot for me. I don't work because we need the money. I choose to be a working mom because I love my career, I like that when Ellis plays, she picks up a purse, throws on a pair of my high heels and says, "Me go work. I yuv you mama," and also we invest in sending Ellis to one of the best daycares in the Southwest. I can tell you without a shadow of a doubt that when Ellis decides its a good idea to pick a piece of poop out of her butt with her bare hands, the ladies at the daycare handle it a lot better than I do.
This is all to say, I noticed some interesting tidbits about toddlers, mine in particular, in the last couple weeks. The following are some highlights:
1. Toddlers are clever. Cleverer than you, but you can never, ever let them know you've lost your cool. By "never, ever" I am including when they repeat:
"I wan orange. I wan juice. I wan water. I wan pasta. I wan go for walk. I wan hold you me. I wan jello. I wan berries. I wan macaroni and cheese. I wan candy (even though you've never let her eat candy). I wan apicot. I wan play game. I wan watch wonder pets. I wan put makeup."
If anyone else asked me for this many things in under a minute, I would black out, murder them, bury them in the desert and then wake up from my black out and proceed to live a normal, happy life. Luckily, God makes babies cute and mindfulness videos easily accessible on YouTube so I am able to muster, barely, I might add, "Ellis, I heard you. Please choose one thing and ask nicely." She will then choose one thing, and ask for that on repeat. I respond, " Ellis, I'm very smart. You only need to ask once and I will work on it." She usually stops talking for about 30 seconds (the longest was 45 seconds which totally blew her average) and then in a whisper she starts, "I wan orange. I wan orange. I wan orange. I wan..." I respond, "Ellis," a bit more stern and she will look me straight in the eye, pause and say, "I wan orange."
You might be wondering why I don't just give her a damn orange. Well, for one, the latter exchange happens in about a minute or less. Secondly, I'm trying to teach her some etiquette around asking for what one wants in life. Third, she does get the orange if asks nicely and says "please". I'm convinced that "please" and "thank you" buys you a lot in this life.
2. Toddlers are smarter than adults and the proof I have is that toddlers do not try to reason with other toddlers. They get what they want in one of two ways: blunt force trauma and/or manipulation. Adults, bless their hearts, try to talk toddlers down, they try to negotiate, they try explaining why it really doesn't matter which color of straw you have. If an adult were lying on the floor crying about a straw, I would carefully step over said adult and carry on with my day. Toddler on the floor crying about a straw? Oh, I'll talk the shit out of that toddler. Brilliant Dorothy. Really good work.
3. Toddlers are not afraid of the things they should be afraid of and completely terrified of things that aren't scary at all. That being said, when I'm really pissed and I feel like I might yell, instead I talk to my toddler in a high pitched, sing-songy voice. "Oh honey, please don't stand on the laundry basket and break off pieces of wicker. Mommy is starting to feel frustrated right now." I smile the entire time and move my head back and forth like a Stepford Wife. This seems to freak her out, or at the very least confuse her and she'll usually do whatever I ask. Besides my tortilla pizza muffins, this is my most brilliant discovery yet.
There's more but I'm exhausted and my vacation ends in approximately 9 hours.
This is all to say, I noticed some interesting tidbits about toddlers, mine in particular, in the last couple weeks. The following are some highlights:
1. Toddlers are clever. Cleverer than you, but you can never, ever let them know you've lost your cool. By "never, ever" I am including when they repeat:
"I wan orange. I wan juice. I wan water. I wan pasta. I wan go for walk. I wan hold you me. I wan jello. I wan berries. I wan macaroni and cheese. I wan candy (even though you've never let her eat candy). I wan apicot. I wan play game. I wan watch wonder pets. I wan put makeup."
If anyone else asked me for this many things in under a minute, I would black out, murder them, bury them in the desert and then wake up from my black out and proceed to live a normal, happy life. Luckily, God makes babies cute and mindfulness videos easily accessible on YouTube so I am able to muster, barely, I might add, "Ellis, I heard you. Please choose one thing and ask nicely." She will then choose one thing, and ask for that on repeat. I respond, " Ellis, I'm very smart. You only need to ask once and I will work on it." She usually stops talking for about 30 seconds (the longest was 45 seconds which totally blew her average) and then in a whisper she starts, "I wan orange. I wan orange. I wan orange. I wan..." I respond, "Ellis," a bit more stern and she will look me straight in the eye, pause and say, "I wan orange."
You might be wondering why I don't just give her a damn orange. Well, for one, the latter exchange happens in about a minute or less. Secondly, I'm trying to teach her some etiquette around asking for what one wants in life. Third, she does get the orange if asks nicely and says "please". I'm convinced that "please" and "thank you" buys you a lot in this life.
2. Toddlers are smarter than adults and the proof I have is that toddlers do not try to reason with other toddlers. They get what they want in one of two ways: blunt force trauma and/or manipulation. Adults, bless their hearts, try to talk toddlers down, they try to negotiate, they try explaining why it really doesn't matter which color of straw you have. If an adult were lying on the floor crying about a straw, I would carefully step over said adult and carry on with my day. Toddler on the floor crying about a straw? Oh, I'll talk the shit out of that toddler. Brilliant Dorothy. Really good work.
3. Toddlers are not afraid of the things they should be afraid of and completely terrified of things that aren't scary at all. That being said, when I'm really pissed and I feel like I might yell, instead I talk to my toddler in a high pitched, sing-songy voice. "Oh honey, please don't stand on the laundry basket and break off pieces of wicker. Mommy is starting to feel frustrated right now." I smile the entire time and move my head back and forth like a Stepford Wife. This seems to freak her out, or at the very least confuse her and she'll usually do whatever I ask. Besides my tortilla pizza muffins, this is my most brilliant discovery yet.
There's more but I'm exhausted and my vacation ends in approximately 9 hours.
Thursday, May 15, 2014
The Pink Elephant: It's all good
The Pink Elephant: It's all good: I suck at consistency. Can you tell? This is why I can hardly ever lose the last 10 pounds, hardly ever get all my credit card balances to z...
It's all good
I suck at consistency. Can you tell? This is why I can hardly ever lose the last 10 pounds, hardly ever get all my credit card balances to zero, and hardly ever bloody, gosh darn it, write my blog when I say I'm going to. When I say "I've been busy, " its not an excuse, it's an update. The world is shiny and new right now and I have only two things to blame: 1. My energy worker, my Moxie Master, my Mojo Mistress, and 2. My serious addiction to Tony Robbins, Dr. Dyer, Marianne Williamson, and anyone else who almost instantly makes me feel like I'm in the flow again and trusting God.
I never talk about this stuff because people get all freaked out. If you devote yourself to a particular sect of religion, you think I'm worshipping Harry Potter, aka, the devil, which truth be told, I do worship all things Harry Potter, but my energy work, which I call "The Work" has nothing to do with anything devil related.
If you're not religious, you think when I say, "God" I've become a born again Christian. I haven't, I just know that there is a higher power, a divine presence and sometimes I call that presence "God." It's a lot less to type than "higher power."
What I fear the most though, is that you'll think I'm a crystal waving, Goddess worshipping, skirt wearing over my jeans, hippie. That, by far, is not what The Work is.
If you were to look at a continuum where spirituality and science meet at the end, that is where The Work is. I have to admit that I have never tried to explain this before. When I get my friends and family to start this, they do so because I'm bubbling over with excitement and there are tangible things happening in my life that suggest this stuff works.
Anyway, I find myself being shy in this moment. And yet, I have done The Work for close to 10 years and I am happier, more attractive, much more lucrative, very excited about life 95% of the time, and have a firm grasp on the truth that when I let go of my disempowering stories and I tell myself the empowering ones instead, my life BLOOMS.
The Work doesn't make a difference if you are attached to being unhappy, worried, anxious, and mistrusting that everything you desire is yours. I love The Work because it's metaphysical and it makes no sense to me on some level and then it's also highly cognitive and requires vigilance to our thought processes.
When I first started this journey I wanted to make more money. I'm Scottish, what can I say? I thought that money = abundance. Every year was different but money kept coming. Sometimes I would make a big jump, other times, incremental steps. I realized though, and this is sort of silly to say because I'm no 1%, but money is such a tiny part of abundance. So when I expanded my definition of abundance, I met Aaron, my sometimes irritating but nonetheless, best friend and soul's counterpart. Then Ellis came, my biggest and most cherished wish of all. And sometimes when I look at her or talk to her about, er, panties, we talk a lot about panties, I realize that I've known her my whole life. I dreamt of her. She has been with me always and here she is, in the flesh.
Abundance is really about love. Love in the here and now, with someone. Love with God and knowing that he/she/it will do anything to help you make manifest your deepest desires if we only allow it. Loving yourself. Knowing that you can do anything. It's all so easy and there is nothing in your way. My favorite right now, is loving the feeling of being excited about life. Sometimes I get so excited, I think I'm having a heart attack but aren't we supposed to be excited?
I'm rambling and I have my big quarterly meeting tomorrow in Santa Fe. I will be listening to Tony Robbin podcasts the entire way down and when I get there, everyone is going to think I held up Starbucks because I'm going to be seriously pumped. That said, I need some lavender essential oils on the soles of my feet ASAP. Night, night.
I never talk about this stuff because people get all freaked out. If you devote yourself to a particular sect of religion, you think I'm worshipping Harry Potter, aka, the devil, which truth be told, I do worship all things Harry Potter, but my energy work, which I call "The Work" has nothing to do with anything devil related.
If you're not religious, you think when I say, "God" I've become a born again Christian. I haven't, I just know that there is a higher power, a divine presence and sometimes I call that presence "God." It's a lot less to type than "higher power."
What I fear the most though, is that you'll think I'm a crystal waving, Goddess worshipping, skirt wearing over my jeans, hippie. That, by far, is not what The Work is.
If you were to look at a continuum where spirituality and science meet at the end, that is where The Work is. I have to admit that I have never tried to explain this before. When I get my friends and family to start this, they do so because I'm bubbling over with excitement and there are tangible things happening in my life that suggest this stuff works.
Anyway, I find myself being shy in this moment. And yet, I have done The Work for close to 10 years and I am happier, more attractive, much more lucrative, very excited about life 95% of the time, and have a firm grasp on the truth that when I let go of my disempowering stories and I tell myself the empowering ones instead, my life BLOOMS.
The Work doesn't make a difference if you are attached to being unhappy, worried, anxious, and mistrusting that everything you desire is yours. I love The Work because it's metaphysical and it makes no sense to me on some level and then it's also highly cognitive and requires vigilance to our thought processes.
When I first started this journey I wanted to make more money. I'm Scottish, what can I say? I thought that money = abundance. Every year was different but money kept coming. Sometimes I would make a big jump, other times, incremental steps. I realized though, and this is sort of silly to say because I'm no 1%, but money is such a tiny part of abundance. So when I expanded my definition of abundance, I met Aaron, my sometimes irritating but nonetheless, best friend and soul's counterpart. Then Ellis came, my biggest and most cherished wish of all. And sometimes when I look at her or talk to her about, er, panties, we talk a lot about panties, I realize that I've known her my whole life. I dreamt of her. She has been with me always and here she is, in the flesh.
Abundance is really about love. Love in the here and now, with someone. Love with God and knowing that he/she/it will do anything to help you make manifest your deepest desires if we only allow it. Loving yourself. Knowing that you can do anything. It's all so easy and there is nothing in your way. My favorite right now, is loving the feeling of being excited about life. Sometimes I get so excited, I think I'm having a heart attack but aren't we supposed to be excited?
I'm rambling and I have my big quarterly meeting tomorrow in Santa Fe. I will be listening to Tony Robbin podcasts the entire way down and when I get there, everyone is going to think I held up Starbucks because I'm going to be seriously pumped. That said, I need some lavender essential oils on the soles of my feet ASAP. Night, night.
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