It’d been a while since Sharon and I had seen each other because let me just say, grass does not grow under that woman’s feet. I’m talking not one single blade. She and her hubby Jim have been to all but two of the United States. And don’t even ask me how many countries they’ve visited. I can’t count that high.

So after their trip to New Mexico but before they leave for Africa, we made plans to spend the day together. I picked up Sharon in Santa Rosa and we headed for the picturesque town of Healdsburg, which is surrounded by beautiful vineyards and wineries. Sorta like a miniature Italy.

Downtown Healdsburg has one of our favorite restaurants, Willi’s. They have quite an inventive menu. Their calamari is the best I’ve had, coated in an orange chili gremolata, yet it’s somehow still crispy. And their round loaf of bread, warm and quartered with a big dollop of garlic herb butter melting into it, is sinfully good.

We ordered our favorites, practically licking the plates while sharing photos and stories of the past weeks. As you may have guessed, we had a lot to say. We were the last to leave the restaurant yet never got a single disgusted stare from staff.

From there we went to Jessi Jing’s Massage and Reflexology in Santa Rosa. Apparently what that entails is a relaxing, hour-long foot massage and (clothes-on) full body massage. But never mind. They had me at relaxing.

When we walked into the huge, dimly lit room lined with rows of massage tables, spa music played quietly in the background. An abundance of potted plants surrounded the check-in desk and the air held a pleasantly fragrant scent. A sign on the desk said, PLEASE WHISPER. Quite the calming atmosphere.

We chose our tables next to each other, then waited for our masseuses. Out came a petite, sweet-looking woman followed by a well-muscled man. The woman headed to Sharon’s table while Arnold Schwarzenegger Jr. (Arnie) came to me. Neither spoke English and the closest I’ve come to speaking Chinese is, “I’ll have the moo shu Vegetables, please.” So I rolled up my pant legs and lie back, ready for some sweet bliss.

My legs hung over the end of the table with my feet resting in a large container of warm water infused with scented oils. Arnie put a cloth over my eyes then gently wiped my feet and ankles dry before massaging them with more oil. I thought, now we’re talkin’.

Working his strong hands up to my calves, Arnie pressed his thumbs into my muscles (or what muscles I have left) and did a deeper massage as he headed for my quadriceps. Thus began my silent torture. Whenever I was about to ask Arnie for a stick that I could bite on to keep from screaming, he’d move to a different body part.

A half hour later I turned over onto my stomach, hoping the blissful part would start. I couldn’t have been more wrong. I believe he got up on the table and straddled me. I’m not a massage virgin but that was a first. Then he used what I believed was a dagger to my back, although in retrospect it was just his elbow.

Lying there in agony, I envisioned Sharon next to me, sound asleep, as her petite masseuse rejuvenated her muscles with gentle, steady pressure. Turns out I’m psychic, as that’s exactly what Sharon received.

Now don’t get me wrong; reflexology wasn’t ALL torture. Just most of it. Yet I wasn’t even sore the next day. So I guess Arnie knows his stuff. Still, next time Sharon and I eat at Willi’s, we’ll end our day with a leisurely stroll at Spring Lake. Now that’s what I call Sweet Bliss.