Sunday, September 5, 2010

Summer Affair

There is no way I will be able to capture the treasure trough that is my dear friend *Trish, but I simply cannot keep her to myself any longer. I met her in San Diego at the New Roots Farm. Trish lives across the street, has a plot at the farm, and grows a very handsome carrot. Within a week of meeting her I knew we had something special and I told her so. She proposed that we get to know each other on a more intimate level, and I consented. It all happened so fast; butterflies were swarming in my gut when she invited me over to her place, I hopped into bed, took a few deep breaths, and she whispered, "Are you ready?" "Yes", I responded, "I think I am." And so it happened, there was no turning back, my mind was made up. Trish reached her hand under the sheet, tickled me, rubbed me just right, then bluntly asked, "Do you have diarrhea?"

I guess those weren't butterflies.

Never have I revealed the inner workings of my mind and soul and er, bowels so quickly. With Trish however, it all flowed like clockwork, via my feet. You see, Trish is no ordinary woman, she is my foot reflexologist.

It started as an orange glow slowly creeping toward me. The glow steadily took shape and I could see that it wasn't a hovering orb, rather a woman. No, not just any old woman, a rosy-cheeked, stocky, 40-something woman dressed in an orange shirt, orange fleece vest, orange hat, and best of all, bright orange Crocs. She greeted me, I said, "Good morning", she said, "Well it's okay, but I just found out I'm allergic to red and yellow food dyes so I can't eat any of my favorite foods anymore. Isn't it ironic how red and yellow make orange. That means I can't eat cheese or Cheetos. And I am STARVING." From that moment on our relationship blossomed.

During my first foot reflexology session my feet revealed to Trish that I have persistent neck and shoulder pains, childhood trauma, an irritable bowel, anxiety being alone, sinus congestion, a fever, a severe learning disability, and my most favorite ailment of all, an itchy anus. I disagreed to most of what she read but I was constantly reminded that, "Feet don't lie." Lying or not, my feet were definitely talking. So much in fact that my energy was finding its way into Trish's body and releasing itself in the form of burps, sneezes, and "toots." Classy, Trish.

My problems might sound drastic but at least I'm not Trish who confessed to having an even more severe learning disability, stubborn yeast infections, lines consistent with homosexuality, anxiety, rheumatoid arthritis, back, shoulder, neck and hip pain, teeth and gums "issues", etc., etc.

Speaking of those lines, Trish is "not gay", in fact she recently subscribed to a dating website in hopes of finding Mr. Right. Fair enough, but "feet don't lie", right? Besides, "What's so wrong with taking a bath with your best friend. It'd be a shame to run a whole bath for just one body." Said she. Trust me, I didn't let this one slip by. Forgive my prudence and possible naivete, but bathing with one's bf is not normal, is it?

Trish is one of my favorite people from summer 2010. She knows more about me than I'm comfortable with, but somehow her incessant talking and offering of TMI without any probing on my end is what makes her so darned likable.

*name has been changed


The Gibbs said...

i have discovered what you are truly meant to be, your divine need to be a travel columnist. i'm not kidding. you need to pray about this. you have a way with words, i laugh till i cry, and would read you every day. you could do it and travel and study nutrition all at the same time. so...what do you think?

kelly riding said...

this is pure genius! how did you describe it so well?!?! is the itchy anus? and i completely agree with katie.

Kimmles said...

Oh Trish. I thought her crocs were yellow? I think you should post that picture you have of them.

Andrea said...

hahahahah! sounds like such an accurate science, or maybe it's a natural gift she has...whatever it is, I'm so glad she can make you aware of all your ailments :).