A Conversation with My Therapist

Actually, Typepad is my therapist, but let’s just pretend Dr. Typepad has a comfy red couch upon which I’m reclining.  Stiffly, like spaghetti just into the pot.  Take it away, Doc:

Him: So, what brings you here today?

Me: I think I’m in love with my farmer. 

Him: Interesting.  You know, I’ve been looking for a good CSA…

Me: He’s mine, all mine.  Find your own farmer.  He’s sold out, anyway.  HA!

Him: Okay, well, let’s get right to it, then.  What’s your relationship with this farmer?

Me: He grows our vegetables and I give him money.  For the vegetables.  Nothing else.  And then I cook them.  Then, I eat them.  That’s really it.  There’s nothing dirty going on if that’s what you’re getting at.  I mean, there’s actual dirt on the vegetables.  From the fields.  You have to wash them off…

Him: All right, settle down.  So, you see this farmer, you see him, and then what happens?

Me: I get hungry.

Him: Uh-huh.  And what does your husband think about this?

Husband: I’m okay with it.  She's been cooking A LOT.

Me: (to Husband) Could you stop looking over my shoulder when I’m on the clock?

(Husband goes back to his own special brand of therapy: fighting heroic quests in an imaginary troll world.)

Me: (to the doctor) You were saying.

Him: Do you suppose it’s possible that you’re transferring your feelings toward the food you eat onto the person responsible for growing it? 

Me: I’m sorry, I don’t understand the question.

Him: Well, if you’ve never had a face attached to your food before, it’s understandable that you might make certain…associations.

Me: I can see your lips moving, but…

Him: Look at it this way: What is food to you?

Me: Ummmm…love.

Him: And how do you define love?

Me: Food?

Him: Do you see how you just came full circle there?

Me: You’re not making any goddamned sense.

Oh, well.  No breakthroughs today.  You can’t expect success overnight.

Comments

[Bri]

Yes! Food = Love. No question. Nothing compares to buying great food directly from the people who produce it, preparing it with good tools, and sitting around a table, enjoying delicious food and the company of loved ones.

[Tammy]

Bri: Food might equal Love, but it's the Love equaling Food that I need to work on, I think. For everyone's sake.

[Jim]

*Which* troll world, exactly?

[Tammy]

Jim: Does the name Azeroth mean anything to you? And how the hell are you, anyway?!!

[Jim]

Ah, Azeroth...I tried you for months, and then left you for greener climes...climes with more gunfire and real-time virtual combat. Halo 3 will always bring me more pleasure than endless mouseclickery.

And I'm not bad! Pursuing various new modes of employment, getting ready for Christmas, mourning that Vegas kicked my ass last weekend...and missing all my old food blogs.

It's good to be back. :)

[melissa]

yes. food. yep. :)

"(Husband goes back to his own special brand of therapy: fighting heroic quests in an imaginary troll world.)"

or with a team of marines or british special ops fighting in urban warfare... or in a land with aliens where you are known as master chief... or in a strange underworld city in the 40's which has been created for god knows what purpose...

yeah. LOL.

[Farmgirl Susan]

Okay, I just discovered your blog via the Food Blog Awards humor category (where have I been?). I made it down the homepage as far this post, and now I have to go back and vote for you. Love your sense of humor (and of course that you love your farmer). Can't wait to read more. ; )