The problem with going to a beautiful place like Pebble Beach, California for a work trip is that it’s easy to fall into vacation mode. Twelve hour days, early morning wake-up calls and physical labor some how feels exotic when done in the quaint seaside town that is the antithesis of Los Angeles. The crisp, clean air and 55 degree temperatures are refreshing – invigorating to a spirit that has been battered by too many traffic jams and too many inflated egos. Even at 6 am, there’s something magical about the way the fog coats the green foliage in a dewy mist. It breathes new life into one’s soul. And it renders even the warmest of sweaters completely useless.
Before I left LAX last Tuesday morning for my week in northern California, I was prepared to be homesick – prepared to miss my friends, Bar Method classes and quinoa stockpile. But my time in the Pebble Beach/Carmel/Monterey area was a nice break from life as it exists for me in LA. I liked not having to run to five different grocery stores to make dinner. I liked not having to worry about writing, and editing and uploading pictures every night. And I liked using the justification, “I’m on ‘vacation,’ so calories don’t count” to eat whatever I wanted.
Over the course of the week, there were many glasses of wine, an almond-crusted sea bass over creamy mashed potatoes, chocolate bars in lieu of apples, a decadent brownie from my favorite Carmel bakery, two apple tarts with caramel gelato from room service at the Hyatt, hummus, a gargantuan falafel wrap, and, my favorite form of comfort food, pizza. I relished every bite without my usual concern about the impending damage to my figure as though the calories would dissolve away into the fog.
Back in reality, I’m three pounds heavier. But my heart feels three pounds lighter. So much so that I didn’t even mind sitting in a traffic jam as I tried to maneuver around the Obama road closures yesterday evening on my way home to a fridge full of broccoli. It was an apropos greeting from the smoggy city. Back to life now, Diana. Hope you got your fill of dessert.