First- I'm not a fan of new experiences. I'm the person who reads the ending of the book so she can enjoy the story without the stress and anxiety of not knowing how it ends. But I think you have to try new things, go new places, and push yourself hard, or you become comfortable and quit growing. It's all about growing with me so that drives me to places I'd never go otherwise- like the DaySpa.

The gift certificate to the DaySpa was from my love who felt that I deserved some pampering after all the care he's taken this year. To be perfectly honest, I thought he was a bit nuts and quickly figured out exactly what dramas I could have ordered with the cash - had he given me that instead of the gift certificate. "But you go to the Spa in Santa Fe," he said in his defense. I do go to this awesome Japanese inspired spa in Santa Fe, 10,000 Waves, with my female friends. We go in the late fall or early winter, and hang out by the hot tub or in the steam room for $15 for the evening. We laugh at how the skinny girls wear bathing suits while all us chubby people don't, and we watch the clouds float in the night sky and talk about things for hours... but we don't get massages. Those are very expensive and it's enough to unwind by the hot tub after a stressful week.

The big thing is that I don't like strangers touching me. I have a deep personal space circle. Think three feet and double that at least. I don't hug strangers (I barely hug friends) and when guy friends try to give me a massage, it freaks me out and makes my skin crawl. But our mommy-to-be loved her birthday prenatal massage and was craving a pedicure (apparently pregnant women stub their toes a lot- I didn't know that) so I decided the best use of my gift certificate was to have some prenatal in-law bonding time.

However, when I made the appointment for her, I had a bad case of writer's neck- a stiff neck and numbness in the right arm so I made an appointment for a massage for me as well. I had an hour wait until our Mommy-to-be returned glowing and happy. One hour to think of all the things I could be doing with this money, to come up with reasons to escape, and I would have-- except they charge 50% of the fee if you cancel.

The tiny room was dim with candles burning and Inca music playing in the background. The masseuse was a tiny bit of a thing and very confident. As I slipped onto the warm table, my body tensed and my mind went blank- so blank that I forgot the most important thing about my body- it hates flowers. Actually, it hates most of the outdoors- moss, trees, flowers, weeds, hay, oats, herbs- did I mention flowers? Direct contact with them gives me a migraine. Halfway through the process, just as I was feeling better, my masseuse decided to educate me on the essential oil that she'd been rubbing into my skin for the last half-hour. "Sandalwood," she started and as she began to explain the healing powers behind it, my stomach flopped. But the worse was still ahead- lavender, jasmine, and rose. Bing! Bing! Bing! You just won a two day light burning, upset stomach, mother of all headaches. I couldn't believe that I forgot to tell her. I can't believe she didn't ask. I thought about telling her to stop, but the damage was already done.

Maybe it's all in your mind, I thought confidently. Maybe her essential oil doesn't have whatever it is in it that makes me sick. When I turned up the lights to dress, a pretty bouquet of purple flowers greeted me. "Nice," I thought. "More lavender."

I walked outside with my daughter-in-law and talked about the things happening in her life and I checked. No. No headache. Maybe it was all in my brain. By the time I got home, I could feel my skin burning and spent the next twenty minutes in the shower, scrubbing. When I got out, I looked longingly at the migraine pill, but we were having dinner with my book club and that meant I needed to be able to talk, so no pill. Driving home from book club, I was done. A pill, lights out, you want to watch here? Don't make the bed wiggle migraine was raging. Two days later, there is a slight trace of the headache and my kid leaves me a note on FB- Only you can get sick from a massage.

I am really careful about that allergy. I read soap and lotion bottles. I give away all the gifts people give me that have those ingredients. I check tea labels and don't eat flowers in my salad- even if it is all the rage. I tell the car wash guys no fragrance, and I buy green plants that rarely flower for the house. I take allergy pills when I know I'm going to be outside or around a fire. So why didn't I tell her? I donno. I didn't think about it until she mentioned to me and then it was too late.

The love of my life said it was the worst anniversary gift ever, but I don't think so. Our Mommy-to-be was all relaxed and her back quit hurting and we had a good time together. My writer's neck quit aching- and my fingers too- I didn't know they hurt until she pressed on them. I'd probably do it again- if I could find someone who didn't use essential oils.

Off to the next new great adventure... what should I try next? Hot air ballooning? People die doing that, you know.

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