My father was like the father in My Big Fat Greek wedding who applied some household cleaner to every cut, sting, bruise and pain. I can't remember my father's version of the Windex used in the movie, but it was the same thing: an unyielding confidence in his secret formula. He was so convincing that from time to time I would find myself recommending to friends the miracle cure of a touch of whatever it was to reduce the swelling, remove the redness, fix it. You'll be OK. Just watch.
William gave me a look today when I embodied my father and his secret potion response. William was mentioning some skin irritation and before he was done speaking I was reaching into my pocket for the ever available-does-all essential oil. I didn't even know which was the lucky bottle about to be recommended, yet I knew that it would definitely meet William's need.
William just looked at me and I found it difficult not to chuckle. I had done this before with an ointment from
my youth, maybe it was the one my dad loved, recommending it for everything. It got to the point where William would tease me relentlessly "its also amazing as a spaghetti SAUCE!!!"