Georgia On My Lips

On Thursday night, I left on a 6:30 p.m. plane to Georgia to visit my friend Marla. (I might have considered a midnight train, but that would have taken a lot longer, so I chose the less musical option.)

Marla and I are both lovers of food; two years ago, she took me on a comprehensive eating tour of the greater Detroit area. So she had a big weekend of eating planned for this visit. She had called her favorite dining joints and checked on what they could offer me that was dairy free, though she already had a pretty good working knowledge, since she had a vegan stint last year. Unfortunately, thanks to my fear of flying (and related violent stomach flips) returning with a vengeance this week, I wasn't very hungry for much of my visit, but I did manage to sample some of Atlanta's finer fare.

I have to say, I was sort of expecting to find only treats smothered in butter (you know, the whole comfort food thing). But I was really impressed with the eagerness of Georgia's eating establishments to accommodate me. Part of it was Marla's pre-visit scouting, but everywhere we went, people were happy to tell me how things were cooked and what I could eat off of their regular menu. It was fabulous. During my visit, I consumed a massaman curry (naturally dairy free and wonderfully delicious), a toasty bagel and latke and an amazingly good piece of apple pie from a bakery that has, on their regular menu, several vegan options.

But the weekend wasn't all about eating. It was also about relaxing, something I needed more than I would like to admit. Thanks to work, getting ready for the holidays and other things going on, I have been crazily busy for the last month (or, you know, year). Add to that the return of my panicky fear of flying, and I was in major need of some therapeutic activity.

Enter Marla. She knows how stressed I've been (and knows even more what an uptight control freak I am), so she planned out a weekend that was nothing but fun. The first thing she said when I told her I was coming down was, "your ass is going to the spa." (Which it did, yesterday, for a mud wrap and massage.) The second thing she told me was to bring comfy lounge pants. Between the shopping, lounging, eating and spa goodness, Atlanta, for me, became a stress-free zone.

It's a good friend who invites you to visit, but it's a great friend who customizes the visit to exactly what you need without even having to ask.