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Morning in Las Vegas

Published August 11, 2008 Leisure , Physical Fitness , Vacation Leave a Comment
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Yesterday, I arrived in Las Vegas and immediately put on my running shoes and shorts and went to the fitness area here at the Stratosphere Hotel, Casino, Erotic Dance Performance Arena (Bitten, Vampire Erotica!), and Bar and Grill, and Buffet.  The fitness area is adjacent the swimming pool and I ran slow (on vacation I wasn’t able to hit it much) and watched an intergenerational, multi-ethnic spring break-style water and alcohol party.  “Look at me,” I thought.  “Instead of boozing and getting sunburned and smoking and falling in the pool, I’m running on a treadmill!  I am so happy!”  And then I thought about it for a moment or two and was a little bit lonely.

This morning however, after eating a delicious meal with members of the Henderson Writers Group, I am awake!  And alive!  And not illin from spring break-style water games!

I’m having a Starbucks in the Casino.

Morning in Las Vegas!

Morning in Las Vegas.  That’s the real color in here.

Meanwhile, Brett Favre ran a lap at training camp for messing up a snap.  Jets fans cheered.  Attendance at the Jets training camp is up exponentially.  I’m on Public Radio in Las Vegas tomorrow to talk about Miracle Letters, but will have a hard time not talking about Favre the whole time.

Two more big trips… And what about health?

Published August 1, 2008 Agenda , Diet , Physical Fitness , Vacation Leave a Comment
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One, a southwest odyssey, which starts today. The other, a trip to NY at the end of the month.

This is the big one. El Gigante con Queso (no!). I’m going with the kids to Colorado and then to the Grand Canyon. I finish the trip in Las Vegas for a couple of readings and the kids go home with Grandma. Twelve days all-told.

Last time I was on the road for more than a few days, I ate nothing but cheeseburgers and nachos and vast amounts of Thai food that surely buffered the Thai-American economy through-out the spring. I didn’t exercise. I still smoked. I felt utterly horrible (like my eyeballs were going to pop out of my head, because of high blood pressure, perhaps). This will not happen in August. August is for Herbach.

It starts this morning. At the airport. Where my children will want pancakes and donuts and danish. This guy… look at me in the eyes right now… is going to have a couple of delicious pieces of fruit and a lot of water. August is mine.

I have to hope there are places to exercise in the cities of the southwest. I have to believe there are. I will bake like adobe as I bound jaguar-style, among the cacti and the scrub, up the sides of desert mountains!

That’s my pledge (or, at least, I pledge to do something akin to that, perhaps in motel health clubs).

How Herbach got his groove back, part II

Published June 23, 2008 Leisure , Vacation Leave a Comment
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Okay, let there be no mistake: I thoroughly enjoyed a B and B weekend. What’s a B and B? Bed and Breakfast. What happens at a B and B? In my case, one sleeps a great deal in a very comfortable place. One takes a lot of baths. One reads. One walks into town for a decent meal (or a mediocre one… doesn’t much matter). One gets a great breakfast in a Victorian house under a chandelier or on a screened-in porch. One has some martinis on the town then comes back to schmooze with other guests. I say, unequivocally: I had an absolutely excellent Oprah time and I came away from a weekend vacation feeling better not worse (usually vacations make me feel terrible).

Where did I stay? The Pratt-Taber Inn, Red Wing, MN. It was excellent. Debbie, the owner, a total ball.

I had coffee in a nice shop. Spent time perusing an excellent little bookstore called “Best of Times.” Bathed thricely in a claw-foot tub (I plan to look more into this bathing, business, because damned if I didn’t feel a helluvalot better about life after bathing). Acted like the old man I am actually becoming. This was a fine weekend.

I’m going to make a silly statement: I like Bed and Breakfasts.

At least I like the Pratt-Taber Inn, in Red Wing, Minnesota. Seriously. Jesus Christmas. Whoa. It was really nice.

How Herbach got his groove back.

Published June 21, 2008 Leisure , Vacation Leave a Comment
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One way to feel good about life is to spend a lot of money.

There are places in this world known as Bed and Breakfasts. These are generally large, nicely appointed, old fashioned and romantic houses where a person like me can sleep in a big bed and bathe in lemon grass and be fed a nice breakfast among other bourgeois people of my ilk. At the moment, in order to recover from a long few months of book tours and online teaching, I am at one of these places in a famous, tiny and quaint and artsy (in a crafty kind of way), town in the state of Minnesota. I have been here 22 hours. I have slept 14, bathed in the lemon grass once, eaten breakfast on a screened-in porch while the sun played gently in my orange juice, and I’ve read a book of Victorian poetry. In some respects I’m like Diane Lane in Under the Tuscan Sun. In most other respects I’m like Dom Deluise in Cannonball Run.

Notice the wine and S.Pellegrino in my room? I smell like lavender.

I am at peace with the world (for around $300 I don’t necessarily have).

Here’s a question: if, in fact, some kind of bourgie Victorian fantasy world is what makes me happy and at peace, can I, Herbach, who does not do much around the house other than watch COPS, act to recreate some kind of bourgie Victorian fantasy world in my own space? Or, am I totally deluded? It’s the lifestyle question.

Lifestyle.  Isn’t lifestyle just what you do? Isn’t it just a compilation of one’s actions?  Why should I worry about bourgie or fantasy?  I do what I do and the message it sends to others (bourgie, perhaps) doesn’t matter.  I didn’t drive a HUMMER down here.  Everything in this place is antique and thus recycled.  I am responsible!  I choose lavender and bath salts!   I like watching sports on television!  I am every woman, Oprah!  I mean, I am myself!

I will do more of this. I was served a delicious breakfast burrito and cold-pressed coffee this morning. To health!

You should join me.

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I am…

Geoff Herbach. I am the author of Stupid Fast and Nothing Special, among a bunch of other stuff. When I'm not writing, I teach writing at Minnesota State, Mankato.

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