Notashot (![[info]](http://p-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} notashot) wrote,@ 2008-05-13 11:05:00 |
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The Traveling Apothecary
I went to breakfast this morning at a local bakery. I was enjoying my bagel and newspaper when one of the other patrons turns to me.
“Do you know anyone who is friends with Phil Jackson?” the gray haired lady asked.
“Can’t say that I do.” I replied.
“I feel bad for the French player, you know the one with the goatee.”
At this point I am lost. I know nothing about basketball. Why did she start talking to me? Apparently he had an injury. She went on talking about this miracle cure that she kept in her purse. It would heal any problem. She wanted to get some to the team.
But this person gets so much more interesting. She is a self described traveler. She said she was commissioned by a group of Japanese guardian monks in the seventies to spend 1000 days walking the holiest locations on mother earth. It has been forty years since, apparently she doesn’t have to do the 1000 days in a row. She is setting her sights on Greenland next fall. At that point I am hooked. I move over to the seat next to here. I have no idea if any of this is true or not but I know whatever story I was thinking about writing today will pale in comparison to the story being spun by the woman with the blue eyes.
She tells me about her exploits across Europe as a young woman and how she plans to walk among the reindeer. There is a generous portion of New Age jargon coupled with stories about the victories and failures of here immediate family. But when she started talking about releasing my fat to the universe I was ready to leave. But before I did she wanted to give me some of her miracle tonic. By this time I was expecting her to have a glass bottle with a snake in it or maybe a monkey brain. She pulls out a small yellow bottle and I get nervous. I really don’t want to ingest any medicine this lady gives me. But the label reads Dr. Scholls and I am feeling a little better. She grabs my hand and starts to poke around with her thumbs looking for a “stress point.” Finally she decided that my elbow is in need of immediate care. A few drops and the smell of mint chocolate fills the air. I rub it in. I thank her and I get the heck out of there. I get home and wash the stuff off but even now as I type I smell strikingly like a Girl Scout cookie.
So thanks Megan the traveling apothecary. You made my morning.
I went to breakfast this morning at a local bakery. I was enjoying my bagel and newspaper when one of the other patrons turns to me.
“Do you know anyone who is friends with Phil Jackson?” the gray haired lady asked.
“Can’t say that I do.” I replied.
“I feel bad for the French player, you know the one with the goatee.”
At this point I am lost. I know nothing about basketball. Why did she start talking to me? Apparently he had an injury. She went on talking about this miracle cure that she kept in her purse. It would heal any problem. She wanted to get some to the team.
But this person gets so much more interesting. She is a self described traveler. She said she was commissioned by a group of Japanese guardian monks in the seventies to spend 1000 days walking the holiest locations on mother earth. It has been forty years since, apparently she doesn’t have to do the 1000 days in a row. She is setting her sights on Greenland next fall. At that point I am hooked. I move over to the seat next to here. I have no idea if any of this is true or not but I know whatever story I was thinking about writing today will pale in comparison to the story being spun by the woman with the blue eyes.
She tells me about her exploits across Europe as a young woman and how she plans to walk among the reindeer. There is a generous portion of New Age jargon coupled with stories about the victories and failures of here immediate family. But when she started talking about releasing my fat to the universe I was ready to leave. But before I did she wanted to give me some of her miracle tonic. By this time I was expecting her to have a glass bottle with a snake in it or maybe a monkey brain. She pulls out a small yellow bottle and I get nervous. I really don’t want to ingest any medicine this lady gives me. But the label reads Dr. Scholls and I am feeling a little better. She grabs my hand and starts to poke around with her thumbs looking for a “stress point.” Finally she decided that my elbow is in need of immediate care. A few drops and the smell of mint chocolate fills the air. I rub it in. I thank her and I get the heck out of there. I get home and wash the stuff off but even now as I type I smell strikingly like a Girl Scout cookie.
So thanks Megan the traveling apothecary. You made my morning.
