How Herbach got his groove back, part II

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.

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