My mother and I thought it was a good idea at the time.
I say, “Mom. Let’s go down the mountain and see a Chinese herbalist and get me some Chinese herbs to mix up and brew. I know they’ll make me feel better.”
“Good idea, honey,” my mother says. “You always have such good ideas.”
(This all happened many lives ago, while I was divorcing my second and last husband, and I was a physical and emotional wreck. I needed a cure.)
Off we chug; down the mountain to a quirky place called Hillcrest where I quickly find just the right little shop for me. It’s dark inside. From the ceiling hang swaths of dried plants. Glass jars packed with ground, pulverized, and shaved herbs (and probably beetles and dung and dragonfly heads), sit on shelves.
Oh yum. I forget all about my unhappiness with the Bad Husband. (more…)