Life's A Beach

Life's a beach. Well, it was for a few days last week, anyway.

I've had the words "Hilton Head!" written in big, bold letters on my calendar for a couple of months now. Counting down until our little vacation gave me something to look forward to as a break in the monotony of this current virus life we are living in, a much needed hiatus from reality and a chance to get away and relax. Sometimes you just need a breather: not a fancy, sightseeing trip to a far flung location, but a good old beach trip where you throw your trusty lounge chairs and cooler in the car and head down the highway for salt marshes and sandy bluffs.

Our trip was probably much like many of your vacations: filled with sunshine, downtime, and lots of relaxation. We spent three days laying on the beach reading and people watching, enjoying cold drinks from our cooler and afternoon snacks from the comfort of our chairs. Our exercise came in the form of walks to and from the beach bar, dips in the ocean, and strolls around the Harbour Town Marina in the evening reading the names of boats and their home ports as we ambled.

We enjoyed every kind of seafood prepared every possible kind of way: fried, broiled, steamed, stuffed, chilled (no raw oysters for us on this trip, however; they aren't in season and this did not seem like the year to try our luck with something like oyster poisoning). We ate crab, shrimp, scallops, clams, mussels, oysters, fish, a few more handfuls of shrimp, and made sure to include that all-important vacation food group at every possible meal: hushpuppies! There were daiquiris and mojitos and a couple of rounds of dark and stormys, too.

Clint got a little sunburned and the humidity destroyed my hair once or twice. We had sand in our bathing suits and shoes and in the car and we could not have cared less. We never set an alarm clock and we never thought about getting in a hurry or running late. Aside from one half-hour semi-emergency conference call, Clint was able to leave work behind and our puppy was, from all the pictures and videos his pet sitter sent, having the time of his life while we were out of town. All in all, it was a low-key, laidback, much needed, restful respite. Now, let me share a few pictures from our getaway that I hope you'll enjoy (if you don't enjoy them, please let me know and we will venture back to the beach to try again...I aim to please).

Our patio overlooked the Sea Pines Harbour Town Marina and famous Lighthouse.

Hudson's Seafood is one of our favorite restaurants in Hilton Head.
Please stay six feet away from my hushpuppies.

No trip to Hilton Head is complete without listening to live music
out on the deck of the Salty Dog Cafe.

And speaking of dogs, Charlie was back in Charlotte having the most fun
with his pals Oliver and Fresca. He seriously barely noticed us when we came back to get him.

We made sure to get a picture with our masks on, for posterity. What a weird time.

For those of you wondering what life with me is like, it's clearly very relaxing.

The shrimp nachos at the beach club had been on my mind since the last time I ate them, 
two years ago. I wonder if they had been thinking about me, too?

Here we are at Shelter Cove Harbour and Marina, all cleaned up for a nice dinner.

We tried Ela's On the Water for the first time and it will not be our last.
We started with the crab stack appetizer (jumbo lump crab, avocado, mango and cucumber) and then feasted on seafood scampi and scallops with crab risotto. 

All smiles for our last night in Hilton Head.

You know Clint is rested and refreshed when he starts agreeably posing for pictures.

Or maybe he was just giddy because he was on his way to eat this crab boil at the Crazy Crab?

The time went by too fast, as vacation time tends to do. We always think the hallmark of a perfect trip is when you leave wishing for just one more day. We may have wished for just one or two!

Ahh. I needed that.

Sweet Emotion

A few years ago, I made the mistake of going to a big, beefy bodybuilder for diet advice. BBB, let's call him for the sake of anonymity, swore to develop a customized plan that was not a body builder plan, but rather a science-based approach to burning fat, building muscle, stoking metabolism--all the things we all want desperately but rarely achieve. To my dismay, my allegedly custom plan made me feel like I was training for the Mr. Olympia competition. After finishing an hour of fasted cardio each morning, I enjoyed a breakfast of egg whites before moving on to strength training. When I was done with my weight lifting, I could reward myself with some oatmeal or half a sweet potato, and then look forward to scarfing down some whey protein in shake form around lunch. It. Was. Not. For. Me.

Some call this a diet plan. I call it a recipe for misery.

When I tried explaining this, BBB said I was thinking about it all wrong. I lamented that the biggest problem was that I didn't particularly like any of the foods I was being forced to consume on a daily basis and that every meal and snack felt like torment. Food was becoming drudgery. This super buff, chiseled man then uttered that phrase we've heard so many times from health and fitness zealots, "Food is simply fuel."

To that, I have but one (emphatic) response: phooey. Yes, food is fuel for our bodies, but to most normal or semi-normal human beings, food is a little more than that. It is virtually impossible to remove the emotional component from eating, and truth be told, I'm not sure I want to. Robotically consuming steamed broccoli and baked chicken may make you look amazing, but I'm almost certain it will also kill your soul. There is emotion attached to our food, sweet emotion.

When I was growing up, any time we passed through the kitchen and saw my mother slicing overripe bananas and a box of Nilla wafers on the counter, we would gasp and ask, "Mama, who died?!" You see, banana pudding is for the bereaved. It tastes like comfort. The pudding helps mend broken hearts, I'm sure of it. The Nilla wafers will soak up your tears. We make it for other occasions besides funerals--picnics, family reunions and the like--because it is delicious, but when you have lost someone you love, banana pudding and the love of your community will fill the void.

Banana pudding, for the bereaved, the hungry, or both.

Years ago, a book which outlined the five love languages became a bestseller. I've never read the book, although I've certainly heard a lot about it, but I can tell you that I believe there is one universal love language and it is this: carbs. When in doubt, carbohydrates. Macaroni and cheese is a hug, tacos speak to my soul, and if chicken and dumplings aren't what love tastes like, I don't know want to know about it. A college friend of mine once cornered my mother and whispered that she needed her peanut butter pie recipe to help turn her boyfriend into her husband. They broke up a year later, but I think the reason the relationship lasted another twelve months was that pie. It's hard to walk away when you're well-fed.

Sure, food is fuel, but it can also be medicinal. When is the last time you didn't feel better after a bowl of chicken soup? My mother and I have both been brought back from the brink many times over the years by egg drop soup as well. The answer to my problems does not lie at the bottom of a basket of chips and salsa, but I always feel much better after I go there looking for it. In the years that I have known my husband, I have found that a pint of Ben & Jerry's ice cream goes a long way towards making him forget about whatever care is weighing him down (and I'm happy to imbibe along with him, as a loving, supportive spouse). 

The answer may not lie at the bottom of the tortilla chip bowl. But I should at least check.

Food is love, it is comfort, it is nostalgia and celebration. What would happen to our seasons without the food we crave to mark the occasion? Can you fathom a summer without vine ripe tomatoes or watermelon? A Thanksgiving without turkey and dressing? Birthday cake, Christmas cookies, anniversary dinners...our emotions are all wrapped up in what we eat, so we might as well admit it. It's the reason we bake, mix, assemble, and devour. My granddaddy used to have a saying that you should eat to live, not live to eat. He was right in the perfunctory sense, and I really do want to agree with him...it's just that my neighbor brought over some warm banana bread this morning, and it tastes like life itself.