More Miraval.

I just love this place, which is north of Tucson in Santa Catalina foothills. Neeracha and I hiked and saw the sun come up over Mt. Lemmon. We sat by the pool, napped, read and downed addictive mint lemonades. We painted. I climbed. She mountain biked. We had massages and more massages. I had a pedi. Blue. We slept in. Zip lined. Star gazed. We read some more. We shopped. We kick boxed and cardio drummed. She did Yoga. I swam. We met some interesting people. We read The New York Times at breakfast and ate way too much.

I like the silence at Miraval. The way you notice your surroundings. The Southwest-style buildings and quiet room in the spa with the lounges that lure you to sleep. The food chain is alive and well at Miraval. We saw quite a few bugs -- grasshoppers, crickets, beetles, and they were all huge. Measured in inches. Welcome to Jurassic Park. Here and there on the grounds were iron animal sculptures in odd sizes. The rabbits were taller than me and the horses were three-quarter size. I liked the rabbits the best.

About that food. Sauced proteins. Interesting salads, green, fruit and whole grain. Teeny tiny desserts. Soups. Lots of seasonings and lots of colors. Choices and more choices. Beautiful presentation. Gracious service. All inclusive.

It's healthy but only if you eat in moderation. My favorite food story took place at our dinner on the last night. The waiter presented the dessert menu and I ordered chocolate mousse, ice cream with caramel sauce and two cheese plates. The waiter then looked at Neeracha and said, "And for you?" We burst out laughing because it was obvious to us both that I'd ordered for us both. His response? "Some people do order that much dessert for themselves." Oy! I was bad but not that bad.

Flying home was a comedy of errors. I ended up on the last leg standby, which was complicated by the rain in LA. It never rains in LA. We'd parked the car at the San Jose Airport at 5:30a the previous Thursday and I'd counted on Neeracha remembering where we'd left it. Unfortunately finding the car became my problem alone since we ended up on different flights and it was my car. The shuttle driver was kind enough to drive me up and down the aisles of long-term parking until I found it. Funny in hindsight. Miserable in reality.