I keep thinking that I should avoid this type of entry, that it seems too self-centered, too egotistical, and by doing it, aren't I writing anyway? It does count, doesn't it?
But then, this is my blog. I can say anything on here. So I say this: I haven't been able to think of anything to write in two days.
I intended to follow up my entry about the Fiesta Henderson with one about Regal Fiesta Henderson 12, continuing my Henderson series, but I haven't felt that urge to as I do with many other things I write about. I realize now that it's because in my mind, I haven't spent enough time in that hallway where all the auditorium entrances are. Just one hallway. I need to see it as clearly in my mind as when I was there and then try writing about it. Because it was an impressive hallway. I need to show it off, but I want to do it properly. Properly to me, anyway, not trying to impress the world with wordy prowess, which sometimes I have, but tonight, I don't feel it.
I think I know the trouble, though. After we got back from Henderson, I tried continuing Everywhere That Mary Went by Lisa Scottoline, hoping I could become interested in it, because I love Scottoline's essays, but despite a legal setting in this first novel, nothing grabbed me. I then grabbed Hail to the Chef, the second novel in Julie Hyzy's White House chef mystery series and devoured it. Give me the White House and the people in it and I will happily read for hours, like I did with that one.
Because of Hail to the Chef, I got a heavy, frantic craving for presidential books and began FDR by Jean Edward Smith, 800+ pages which I obviously can't polish off in one day. It still rests at 105 pages, not out of boredom with it, but because I looked inside one of my box bookshelves and noticed The Geeks Shall Inherit the Earth by Alexandra Robbins, about why those students who exist on the fringes of social circles are usually the ones who make great strides in the real world. I'm on page 239 and will probably finish it by the time I go to bed.
Then there's my research for Mayday! Mayday!: The Making of the Airport Movies, which hasn't yet progressed much beyond me receiving in the mail photocopies of the documents I requested be photocopied at the Margaret Herrick Library. One of these documents was a call sheet from The Concorde: Airport '79, detailing what sets were being used on stage 12 at Universal that day, the actors required on set, the times they were expected in makeup and then on set, ready for the day, which, on Tuesday, January 30, 1979, began at 9 a.m. Looking at this one sheet, the treasure out of all the pages I requested, I'm thinking of seeking permission to use this as one of the photos in my book. It ties right into what I intend my book to be, and people, especially those who know these movies and who are into movie production or aviation, should see these.
To continue the research, I should dig into the stacks of books I have for it. But I haven't done that either because my rhythm's off in two ways: One, that trip to Henderson interrupted my work for good reason, and I haven't gotten back into a routine that helps me do as much as possible each for my book, and two, I have to deluge myself with books, and I've spent more time online this week than reading. And not even for any useful purpose such as finding contact information for those actors I want to interview for my book. Just wandering in and out of book-related sites I've bookmarked, reading Disney park message boards, watching the pilot of Smash (As masterful a pilot as The West Wing was, and this could very well be my new West Wing), and ordering a few books I want to read.
The obvious solution here is less time online (save for when I want to write an entry here), more time reading, more time with my research (How else will this book be written?), and probably not being so hard on myself just because I have writer's molasses. I don't like it, but it does happen. I'm betting that going out tomorrow evening to pick up more groceries will help, since I haven't been out all this week (No campus supervisor at La Mesa needed a substitute). This valley isn't ideal living, but different air and scenery ought to help, even though it's eight-year-old scenery. Getting my favorite lemon yogurt ought to trip something in my mind, spark new inspiration, and certainly the atmosphere of a Friday evening ought to help too, the universe feeling like it's aligned.
But first, less time on this computer, starting now.
Thursday, January 26, 2012
Tuesday, January 24, 2012
The Henderson Chronicles, Part 3: Fiesta Henderson
There are undoubtedly tourists who visit the Las Vegas Strip that, within the span of a few days, feel overloaded. So much to see, so many lights, so much packed to the sides of one roadway. What do you see first? How can you see possibly anything, really, when there's so much that reaches out, wanting you to go here, eat here, gamble here, spend money on souvenirs here?
Las Vegas has the right idea. When people are in this part of Nevada, they are here. There's nowhere else to go like there would be if you were to drive from Los Angeles to San Diego as a tourist, as my family and I did when we first visited Southern California in April 2003. What you see is what there is.
It's not a bad thing. It demonstrates the justified confidence Las Vegas has in itself to provide people with truly unforgettable experiences, depending of course on what you're planning to do because some experiences can become forgettable depending on alcohol intake.
This is why Henderson is a terrific counterpoint to Las Vegas. If you feel overloaded, just drive off the Strip to Henderson. See the town where most Vegas employees live. I don't think there are many who could live where they work. Celine Dion has property in Lake Las Vegas. The Amazing Johnathan, my favorite act in Las Vegas, lives in Henderson, with a garage that has a lot of classic cars and a drive-in movie screen, and he creates one hell of a disturbing display on Halloween. He is the expert on dark ambiance. It's not just spookiness. Blood curdles. He has that twisted talent.
The most relation that Fiesta Henderson has to Las Vegas is its sign at its entrance. It's big, it's bright at night, with green light pulsing down the sides, and advertisements on the white billboards within about what benefits gamblers might find. On the Thursday we were there, the 19th, you had to earn 300 points in the slot tournament area to receive a sweatshirt with Fiesta Henderson's logo on it.
That's as far as it stretches to match Vegas, and with good reason. This is a casino for locals to pop in, play a few slots, see a movie at Regal Fiesta Henderson 12, and it is not empowered to create such a high-voltage atmosphere because people in Henderson live life regularly as anyone does, just wanting a bit of a break from the world, or perhaps even working in a less blazing universe like Vegas is. It's relaxed, it's easy, and it only asks that you hang around for a bit and see what it has to offer.
For us, it offered a room on the 8th floor, and a fairly better experience than Mom and Dad had when they stayed there for three nights last June. One night, the shower dripped loudly all night, and then the Internet wi-fi service crapped out, with the front desk telling Dad to call Cox Cable to find out what was wrong. The hotel couldn't do it themselves? What happened to guest services?
I didn't dread our stay there because first, we got two free nights because of the problems Mom and Dad had had on that visit, and perhaps we'd be treated a little better because of it. We were treated reasonably, though the sink backed up halfway before we left to go downstairs to Fatburger, and later that night, the bathtub backed up, requiring the plumbing guys to come up again, and then on Thursday night, our last night, the Internet wi-fi crapped out yet again. Nothing could be done about it, and Dad wasn't going to bother with it, and I felt fine without Internet access. That's why I didn't write another blog entry after the first one, written three hours after we had arrived.
The casino floor has two entry points. One is toward this big tree decoration where a Denny's is behind it, and the other is near the food court that includes Fatburger and Subway, the box office and entrance to Regal Fiesta Henderson 12, and a Starbucks next to that. It's like walking through a tightly-spaced farmer's market, having to squeeze past slot machines at times. And there are some very impressive slot machines, such as one with a Breakfast at Tiffany's theme that deceitfully presents itself as a penny slot machine. It actually requires a 60-cent minimum bet. That was the only one I was hoping to try, but I wasn't going to spend 60 cents on one spin when I could easily get a book from one of the local libraries there one day for either 25 cents or 50 cents, and I'm sure there's magazines sold for 10 cents. I'd get more value out of any of those than I would out of one spin, no matter how technologically impressive the machine, especially with the silhouette of a cat walking across the digital display of the lower buttons, and clips from the movie also used.
I was hoping to find a new Zorro slot machine I had read about in the Southern California Gaming Guide, but it appeared that Fiesta Henderson decided to blow a good portion of its budget on the four Breakfast at Tiffany's slot machines, the two The Hangover slot machines, and two Godzilla-themed slot machines, the latter looking like 3D through the glass screen also being used as a digital display. Subtly.
Slot machine themes at Fiesta Henderson are mostly plain. The idea here seems to have been to buy up as many cheap machines as possible and save most of the money for just a few of the really new ones, advanced technology and all of that. Give players something to gravitate toward. Me, I need a theme I can get into, and a Bruce Lee one wasn't going to do it, nor was an "Alfred Hitchcock Theater" one (with the famous director a cartoonish figure on the video screen), nor ones themed to Egypt, the wild west, cats, and others I've long since forgotten. It's like me with the Haunted Mansion at Disneyland. I love the way that it is all year, with those 999 grim grinning ghosts gallivanting around the property, because I can use my imagination, think up my own stories involving them. How did this ghost get here? Why does the one in that coffin want out so badly? What makes the doors look like they're breathing? With the Nightmare Before Christmas theme toward the holidays, the story is already set. Someone else has decided on it and I can only stand to ride it once just because it's the Haunted Mansion, and then I can do no more because I don't want to be at the mercy of someone else's storytelling. The Haunted Mansion is the only instance in which I feel strongly about that.
With slot machines, I don't necessarily need a kind of bare-bones storyline that I can fill in, but just something to involve me. The most I could think about while playing six slot machines across two days at Fiesta Henderson (Including two called Kitty Glitter and Miss Kitty, which I only played because of our dog Kitty) was about who created these themes, whether there were conferences about them, who built them, who decided that the other symbols outside of the theming should be Js and Qs and Ks and 10s, how long these particular slot machines have been here, how much they've paid out so far, and exactly how many bonuses each slot machine would give me before it finally gave up on me for being a pussy gambler with only one dollar in it, playing only one line. I'm comfortable that way.
I need a more involving theme from a slot machine, though. Breakfast at Tiffany's would have done it if it had truly been a penny slot machine. Some more basic slot machines do the trick, such as one called Cops and Doughnuts, in which one bonus round has you choosing excuses for speeding on the screen (One says, "It's dangerous to drive the speed limit.") and gaining more credits, or double the credits from that. Plus, the video reels include donuts, photos of the different police officers in the game, jail bars, and a few other things. Much better than J, Q, K, and 10. It's not one I seek out often, but it is my dad's favorite slot machine, so I usually know where to find him when there's one available.
Fiesta Henderson also has this invisible sheen of cigarette smoke. It's not as heavy as in some casinos, where you can almost see it in some spots, but it's there, not only from those in the casino currently smoking, but past smokers too. It's not as dominating, but it's like you can smell past visitors, perhaps even those who have been there months ago.
In its drive to not be so demanding, Fiesta Henderson just sits there. Explore whatever you want. Go upstairs to the slot machines there, see the closed bingo room, the trash that still has to be rolled out to the dumpster, the numbers board shut off. See where the buffet is, how big the serving stations are, and then look down on the casino floor, almost directly above the Denny's. After 1, 2 in the morning, janitors come out and clean up a few areas, since it's the best time. Repairs are made, and very quickly too. One collection of slot machines was closed off early Thursday morning and later that day, I saw no trace of the equipment that was there to do whatever they had to do.
It fits in perfectly with Henderson's unassuming nature, saying that anyone is most welcome to visit. For Las Vegas tourists more adventurous than those who prefer to remain on the Strip, it could be decompression from the rush of the Strip, that is if they think of it that way. Remember, different Vegases for different people. Henderson has personality, but it's not eager to show it right away. It wants people to explore, to see what they like, what they want to do, and then the city will reveal itself, always for the good, and always gradually.
Las Vegas has the right idea. When people are in this part of Nevada, they are here. There's nowhere else to go like there would be if you were to drive from Los Angeles to San Diego as a tourist, as my family and I did when we first visited Southern California in April 2003. What you see is what there is.
It's not a bad thing. It demonstrates the justified confidence Las Vegas has in itself to provide people with truly unforgettable experiences, depending of course on what you're planning to do because some experiences can become forgettable depending on alcohol intake.
This is why Henderson is a terrific counterpoint to Las Vegas. If you feel overloaded, just drive off the Strip to Henderson. See the town where most Vegas employees live. I don't think there are many who could live where they work. Celine Dion has property in Lake Las Vegas. The Amazing Johnathan, my favorite act in Las Vegas, lives in Henderson, with a garage that has a lot of classic cars and a drive-in movie screen, and he creates one hell of a disturbing display on Halloween. He is the expert on dark ambiance. It's not just spookiness. Blood curdles. He has that twisted talent.
The most relation that Fiesta Henderson has to Las Vegas is its sign at its entrance. It's big, it's bright at night, with green light pulsing down the sides, and advertisements on the white billboards within about what benefits gamblers might find. On the Thursday we were there, the 19th, you had to earn 300 points in the slot tournament area to receive a sweatshirt with Fiesta Henderson's logo on it.
That's as far as it stretches to match Vegas, and with good reason. This is a casino for locals to pop in, play a few slots, see a movie at Regal Fiesta Henderson 12, and it is not empowered to create such a high-voltage atmosphere because people in Henderson live life regularly as anyone does, just wanting a bit of a break from the world, or perhaps even working in a less blazing universe like Vegas is. It's relaxed, it's easy, and it only asks that you hang around for a bit and see what it has to offer.
For us, it offered a room on the 8th floor, and a fairly better experience than Mom and Dad had when they stayed there for three nights last June. One night, the shower dripped loudly all night, and then the Internet wi-fi service crapped out, with the front desk telling Dad to call Cox Cable to find out what was wrong. The hotel couldn't do it themselves? What happened to guest services?
I didn't dread our stay there because first, we got two free nights because of the problems Mom and Dad had had on that visit, and perhaps we'd be treated a little better because of it. We were treated reasonably, though the sink backed up halfway before we left to go downstairs to Fatburger, and later that night, the bathtub backed up, requiring the plumbing guys to come up again, and then on Thursday night, our last night, the Internet wi-fi crapped out yet again. Nothing could be done about it, and Dad wasn't going to bother with it, and I felt fine without Internet access. That's why I didn't write another blog entry after the first one, written three hours after we had arrived.
The casino floor has two entry points. One is toward this big tree decoration where a Denny's is behind it, and the other is near the food court that includes Fatburger and Subway, the box office and entrance to Regal Fiesta Henderson 12, and a Starbucks next to that. It's like walking through a tightly-spaced farmer's market, having to squeeze past slot machines at times. And there are some very impressive slot machines, such as one with a Breakfast at Tiffany's theme that deceitfully presents itself as a penny slot machine. It actually requires a 60-cent minimum bet. That was the only one I was hoping to try, but I wasn't going to spend 60 cents on one spin when I could easily get a book from one of the local libraries there one day for either 25 cents or 50 cents, and I'm sure there's magazines sold for 10 cents. I'd get more value out of any of those than I would out of one spin, no matter how technologically impressive the machine, especially with the silhouette of a cat walking across the digital display of the lower buttons, and clips from the movie also used.
I was hoping to find a new Zorro slot machine I had read about in the Southern California Gaming Guide, but it appeared that Fiesta Henderson decided to blow a good portion of its budget on the four Breakfast at Tiffany's slot machines, the two The Hangover slot machines, and two Godzilla-themed slot machines, the latter looking like 3D through the glass screen also being used as a digital display. Subtly.
Slot machine themes at Fiesta Henderson are mostly plain. The idea here seems to have been to buy up as many cheap machines as possible and save most of the money for just a few of the really new ones, advanced technology and all of that. Give players something to gravitate toward. Me, I need a theme I can get into, and a Bruce Lee one wasn't going to do it, nor was an "Alfred Hitchcock Theater" one (with the famous director a cartoonish figure on the video screen), nor ones themed to Egypt, the wild west, cats, and others I've long since forgotten. It's like me with the Haunted Mansion at Disneyland. I love the way that it is all year, with those 999 grim grinning ghosts gallivanting around the property, because I can use my imagination, think up my own stories involving them. How did this ghost get here? Why does the one in that coffin want out so badly? What makes the doors look like they're breathing? With the Nightmare Before Christmas theme toward the holidays, the story is already set. Someone else has decided on it and I can only stand to ride it once just because it's the Haunted Mansion, and then I can do no more because I don't want to be at the mercy of someone else's storytelling. The Haunted Mansion is the only instance in which I feel strongly about that.
With slot machines, I don't necessarily need a kind of bare-bones storyline that I can fill in, but just something to involve me. The most I could think about while playing six slot machines across two days at Fiesta Henderson (Including two called Kitty Glitter and Miss Kitty, which I only played because of our dog Kitty) was about who created these themes, whether there were conferences about them, who built them, who decided that the other symbols outside of the theming should be Js and Qs and Ks and 10s, how long these particular slot machines have been here, how much they've paid out so far, and exactly how many bonuses each slot machine would give me before it finally gave up on me for being a pussy gambler with only one dollar in it, playing only one line. I'm comfortable that way.
I need a more involving theme from a slot machine, though. Breakfast at Tiffany's would have done it if it had truly been a penny slot machine. Some more basic slot machines do the trick, such as one called Cops and Doughnuts, in which one bonus round has you choosing excuses for speeding on the screen (One says, "It's dangerous to drive the speed limit.") and gaining more credits, or double the credits from that. Plus, the video reels include donuts, photos of the different police officers in the game, jail bars, and a few other things. Much better than J, Q, K, and 10. It's not one I seek out often, but it is my dad's favorite slot machine, so I usually know where to find him when there's one available.
Fiesta Henderson also has this invisible sheen of cigarette smoke. It's not as heavy as in some casinos, where you can almost see it in some spots, but it's there, not only from those in the casino currently smoking, but past smokers too. It's not as dominating, but it's like you can smell past visitors, perhaps even those who have been there months ago.
In its drive to not be so demanding, Fiesta Henderson just sits there. Explore whatever you want. Go upstairs to the slot machines there, see the closed bingo room, the trash that still has to be rolled out to the dumpster, the numbers board shut off. See where the buffet is, how big the serving stations are, and then look down on the casino floor, almost directly above the Denny's. After 1, 2 in the morning, janitors come out and clean up a few areas, since it's the best time. Repairs are made, and very quickly too. One collection of slot machines was closed off early Thursday morning and later that day, I saw no trace of the equipment that was there to do whatever they had to do.
It fits in perfectly with Henderson's unassuming nature, saying that anyone is most welcome to visit. For Las Vegas tourists more adventurous than those who prefer to remain on the Strip, it could be decompression from the rush of the Strip, that is if they think of it that way. Remember, different Vegases for different people. Henderson has personality, but it's not eager to show it right away. It wants people to explore, to see what they like, what they want to do, and then the city will reveal itself, always for the good, and always gradually.
Monday, January 23, 2012
The Henderson Chronicles, Part 2: Previously Unknown Food
At the end of last May, when Mom and Dad drove to Las Vegas and Henderson for three days that turned into 10 because of the PT Cruiser breaking down, Dad didn't want to eat regularly. He has a steel mindset of wanting to get things done, such as getting to Las Vegas from the Santa Clarita Valley, such as the job interview he had there, such as looking at apartment complexes with Mom, which led them to the apartment complex we thought might be ours, but doesn't seem so viable anymore. We're looking at others, and the best thing about Henderson is that there are so many other complexes available and a lot of builders erect them near shopping centers for convenience. Today, Mom looked at one online and said about it, "You could fall out of bed and land in Vons."
When we started out for Henderson in the late afternoon of last Wednesday (the 18th), I wasn't going to stand for not eating regularly as Mom reluctantly had. On our way out of the valley, Mom pointed out McDonald's, but Dad wordlessly passed right by it. She pointed out Wienerschnitzel and we, in our rental Nissan Cube, breezed by. I put my foot down and suggested strongly that we eat before we leave the valley because it was going to be over three hours before we reached Baker and the Grewal Travel Center, a combination gas station/convenience store/food court. Dad surprisingly agreed, turned around, and we parked at Wienerschnitzel, where I had my usual pastrami sandwich and ultimate chili cheese fries, Mom had an Angus pastrami dog on pretzel bread and a root beer float, Dad had a mustard dog, and Meridith had an ultimate double chili-cheese burger and jalapeno poppers. I took this first meal out as a good sign for what was to come. In Henderson, we were bound to find what could never be found in Santa Clarita, something satisfying, something made differently than the generally processed assembly line here, something made by real people.
We checked into Fiesta Henderson at 12:10 on Thursday morning, spending time getting settled in our room on the 8th floor, then went downstairs an hour later to the food court right at the casino floor, which also had the box office and entrance to Regal Fiesta Henderson 12 next to it, and a Starbucks next to that. We'd looked at the menu for Fatburger on Dad's laptop upstairs, so we knew what we wanted there. Mom only wanted a Sprite, Dad had a Baby Fatburger, Meridith had an order of Skinny fries, and I had a sausage and egg sandwich, onion rings, and a strawberry ice cream milkshake, which was authentic strawberry ice cream because halfway down, the ice cream began melting.
Fatburger is as would be expected, reliable, being a chain known well in nine states. Despite copious frying, the onion ring coating was a bit loose, but the sausage and egg sandwich was good for additional energy at 1 in the morning, being that I wasn't ready to go to bed yet. Not after having all that, not with so many slot machines in front of me, and wanting to find the new Zorro slot machine I read about. Fatburger wasn't indicative of the kind of food available in Henderson, but it showed that it was good. And it could only get better.
Thursday was our busiest day. We started at a shopping center on North Green Valley Parkway, at Brooklyn Bagel for breakfast. This is where they seem to make their own cream cheese, judging from one of the employees taking scoops of cream cheese from a big metal bowl and putting it into individual containers for sale, containers with the Brooklyn Bagel name on them. There, I had what was called a morning wrap-up, wheat kind, with three scrambled eggs, ham, and cheese. We never go out to breakfast in Santa Clarita, so I have nothing to compare it to in that way, but on quality alone, Brooklyn Bagel far outdistances anything in eggs, ham and cheese in Santa Clarita. Most importantly, the employees are very polite and clearly love what they do. And you know you're getting high quality there because it's open from 6 a.m. to 3 p.m. They're getting everything ready while you're still asleep. Even getting there very late in the morning for breakfast, it was all still fresh. People come, but it's not a mad rush. It's a steady stream, and a polite one at that.
We couldn't go this trip without driving up and down the Las Vegas Strip at least once, and this included a visit to Chinatown. There, at a place called Mr. Sandwich, we had drinks, and all I remember is that I had a strawberry smoothie (Thick and real), and Meridith had a blueberry drink with boba, tapioca balls usually used in bubble tea, but can really be put into other kinds of drinks.
Dinner was at Ohana Hawaiian BBQ in the same shopping center as Brooklyn Bagel, in the same shopping center as a popcorn store called Popcorn Girl which uses real sauces for its popcorn, not powder. They give samples, Meridith tried their "Mac 'n Cheese" flavor, and she knew right away that this was the real stuff. Somehow, they had managed to match the flavor of macaroni and cheese in popcorn. Dad bought a bag of dill pickle popcorn and the same thing: The popcorn tasted exactly like a dill pickle. Henderson boasts a great deal of creativity in many pursuits, and popcorn was a great surprise. In fact, Henderson encourages it. Here, you feel like you want to do so much for this city, to contribute something of value, to help keep the city riding high.
At Ohana, I had chicken katsu, which was fried chicken strips, with macaroni salad and two scoops of rice on the side. There were also malasadas, deep-fried and sugared yeast balls, for dessert. Couple all this with NBA TV playing on the flatscreen above us with an old game on, and I was completely satisfied. Again, just as fresh as Brooklyn Bagel had been, the same high quality, and it still amazed me: People actually care here? People actually want to do well in what they do? I want to do well in what I do! This is truly home!
We got back to our room at Fiesta Henderson at 8:15, and then Meridith and I went downstairs to Regal Fiesta Henderson 12 a few minutes after 9 for the final showing of the day of "Beauty and the Beast 3D," at 9:30. Meridith wanted to try the popcorn in Nevada, and it was another example of caring, though more muted (I'll describe that more in a future entry about this particular movie theater). None of the popcorn in the large bucket we got was carelessly burnt at the bottom. Plus, at this theater, they keep the butter dispenser behind the counter at the concession stand, and know exactly how much butter to put in. Just enough to spread throughout the entire bucket, but not too much that the popcorn is positively drenched in it. Whenever I go to the movies, I don't buy anything from the concession stand anyway, but this was a special exception, being that it was our first movie in Nevada.
On Friday morning, breakfast was at Dunkin' Donuts near Fiesta Henderson after checking out, and not a great one. I had ham, egg and cheese on a croissant and the croissant broke off too easily from being toasted too much. The hot chocolate was so-so, not at all what Brooklyn Bagel had available in a dispenser (That was chocolaty). It's more a kind of Dunkin' Donuts that you go to if you have to get to work or elsewhere quickly. You just pick up what you need and go. It's not one to sit in for a while. Very business-like.
Hours at Galleria at Sunset included me, Mom and Meridith sitting for a while at the food court, and I had a fruit and maple oatmeal from McDonald's there, which I've found that I like after trying it for the first time on the morning of my eight hours at the Academy's Margaret Herrick Library in Beverly Hills for my research. At that McDonald's in Valencia, they'd accidentally given us an extra oatmeal, but I kept it, saving it for during the day, when I took a break from my work mid-afternoon.
The only thing I really noticed about this oatmeal at the Galleria at Sunset food court is that whereas overregulated California requires that the nutritional facts be printed on the side of the cup, Nevada doesn't have that same issue. They trust their citizens to know what they're getting. And I knew exactly the oatmeal I was getting. Same kind as in Valencia. Same kind that I'll find in other McDonald's throughout the rest of Henderson and Las Vegas. But it also depends on the people and there was another example of someone doing his job well, what looked like maybe the manager of this location, or senior staff. Hierarchies exist for purposes of paychecks, I'm sure, someone gets paid higher, someone gets paid lower, but I don't get the feeling in Henderson that they exist as they do in places like Los Angeles. People have jobs to do, and they do them. They get paid, and they go home to do whatever else their lives entail. In Henderson, a job is only one part of their lives. There's other things to do too. It's important in order to live, but it is not a driving force.
The oatmeal was the end of my exposure to food in Henderson. After Dad's job interview, we had to start back to the border into California, and it was getting late. One major tip to impart is that if you've gone on vacation and you've had all that I've described here, don't have a footlong chipotle chicken and cheddar flatbread from Subway on the way back. I've got more on this in the weeks to come, but you end up having chipotle breath burps often.
And yet, even with having tried some new things, I've covered barely 1/16th of 1% of what's available in Henderson and Las Vegas. There's so much to try that it can take you years to get through it all. One place I'm psyched about either next time or as a resident is a Steak 'n Shake inside South Point Casino. In fact, I'm calling South Point Steak 'n Shake from now on. We had it in Florida, but there's none in California. South Point's Steak 'n Shake is the only one in Nevada. What life takes away, Las Vegas gives back, including good food.
When we started out for Henderson in the late afternoon of last Wednesday (the 18th), I wasn't going to stand for not eating regularly as Mom reluctantly had. On our way out of the valley, Mom pointed out McDonald's, but Dad wordlessly passed right by it. She pointed out Wienerschnitzel and we, in our rental Nissan Cube, breezed by. I put my foot down and suggested strongly that we eat before we leave the valley because it was going to be over three hours before we reached Baker and the Grewal Travel Center, a combination gas station/convenience store/food court. Dad surprisingly agreed, turned around, and we parked at Wienerschnitzel, where I had my usual pastrami sandwich and ultimate chili cheese fries, Mom had an Angus pastrami dog on pretzel bread and a root beer float, Dad had a mustard dog, and Meridith had an ultimate double chili-cheese burger and jalapeno poppers. I took this first meal out as a good sign for what was to come. In Henderson, we were bound to find what could never be found in Santa Clarita, something satisfying, something made differently than the generally processed assembly line here, something made by real people.
We checked into Fiesta Henderson at 12:10 on Thursday morning, spending time getting settled in our room on the 8th floor, then went downstairs an hour later to the food court right at the casino floor, which also had the box office and entrance to Regal Fiesta Henderson 12 next to it, and a Starbucks next to that. We'd looked at the menu for Fatburger on Dad's laptop upstairs, so we knew what we wanted there. Mom only wanted a Sprite, Dad had a Baby Fatburger, Meridith had an order of Skinny fries, and I had a sausage and egg sandwich, onion rings, and a strawberry ice cream milkshake, which was authentic strawberry ice cream because halfway down, the ice cream began melting.
Fatburger is as would be expected, reliable, being a chain known well in nine states. Despite copious frying, the onion ring coating was a bit loose, but the sausage and egg sandwich was good for additional energy at 1 in the morning, being that I wasn't ready to go to bed yet. Not after having all that, not with so many slot machines in front of me, and wanting to find the new Zorro slot machine I read about. Fatburger wasn't indicative of the kind of food available in Henderson, but it showed that it was good. And it could only get better.
Thursday was our busiest day. We started at a shopping center on North Green Valley Parkway, at Brooklyn Bagel for breakfast. This is where they seem to make their own cream cheese, judging from one of the employees taking scoops of cream cheese from a big metal bowl and putting it into individual containers for sale, containers with the Brooklyn Bagel name on them. There, I had what was called a morning wrap-up, wheat kind, with three scrambled eggs, ham, and cheese. We never go out to breakfast in Santa Clarita, so I have nothing to compare it to in that way, but on quality alone, Brooklyn Bagel far outdistances anything in eggs, ham and cheese in Santa Clarita. Most importantly, the employees are very polite and clearly love what they do. And you know you're getting high quality there because it's open from 6 a.m. to 3 p.m. They're getting everything ready while you're still asleep. Even getting there very late in the morning for breakfast, it was all still fresh. People come, but it's not a mad rush. It's a steady stream, and a polite one at that.
We couldn't go this trip without driving up and down the Las Vegas Strip at least once, and this included a visit to Chinatown. There, at a place called Mr. Sandwich, we had drinks, and all I remember is that I had a strawberry smoothie (Thick and real), and Meridith had a blueberry drink with boba, tapioca balls usually used in bubble tea, but can really be put into other kinds of drinks.
Dinner was at Ohana Hawaiian BBQ in the same shopping center as Brooklyn Bagel, in the same shopping center as a popcorn store called Popcorn Girl which uses real sauces for its popcorn, not powder. They give samples, Meridith tried their "Mac 'n Cheese" flavor, and she knew right away that this was the real stuff. Somehow, they had managed to match the flavor of macaroni and cheese in popcorn. Dad bought a bag of dill pickle popcorn and the same thing: The popcorn tasted exactly like a dill pickle. Henderson boasts a great deal of creativity in many pursuits, and popcorn was a great surprise. In fact, Henderson encourages it. Here, you feel like you want to do so much for this city, to contribute something of value, to help keep the city riding high.
At Ohana, I had chicken katsu, which was fried chicken strips, with macaroni salad and two scoops of rice on the side. There were also malasadas, deep-fried and sugared yeast balls, for dessert. Couple all this with NBA TV playing on the flatscreen above us with an old game on, and I was completely satisfied. Again, just as fresh as Brooklyn Bagel had been, the same high quality, and it still amazed me: People actually care here? People actually want to do well in what they do? I want to do well in what I do! This is truly home!
We got back to our room at Fiesta Henderson at 8:15, and then Meridith and I went downstairs to Regal Fiesta Henderson 12 a few minutes after 9 for the final showing of the day of "Beauty and the Beast 3D," at 9:30. Meridith wanted to try the popcorn in Nevada, and it was another example of caring, though more muted (I'll describe that more in a future entry about this particular movie theater). None of the popcorn in the large bucket we got was carelessly burnt at the bottom. Plus, at this theater, they keep the butter dispenser behind the counter at the concession stand, and know exactly how much butter to put in. Just enough to spread throughout the entire bucket, but not too much that the popcorn is positively drenched in it. Whenever I go to the movies, I don't buy anything from the concession stand anyway, but this was a special exception, being that it was our first movie in Nevada.
On Friday morning, breakfast was at Dunkin' Donuts near Fiesta Henderson after checking out, and not a great one. I had ham, egg and cheese on a croissant and the croissant broke off too easily from being toasted too much. The hot chocolate was so-so, not at all what Brooklyn Bagel had available in a dispenser (That was chocolaty). It's more a kind of Dunkin' Donuts that you go to if you have to get to work or elsewhere quickly. You just pick up what you need and go. It's not one to sit in for a while. Very business-like.
Hours at Galleria at Sunset included me, Mom and Meridith sitting for a while at the food court, and I had a fruit and maple oatmeal from McDonald's there, which I've found that I like after trying it for the first time on the morning of my eight hours at the Academy's Margaret Herrick Library in Beverly Hills for my research. At that McDonald's in Valencia, they'd accidentally given us an extra oatmeal, but I kept it, saving it for during the day, when I took a break from my work mid-afternoon.
The only thing I really noticed about this oatmeal at the Galleria at Sunset food court is that whereas overregulated California requires that the nutritional facts be printed on the side of the cup, Nevada doesn't have that same issue. They trust their citizens to know what they're getting. And I knew exactly the oatmeal I was getting. Same kind as in Valencia. Same kind that I'll find in other McDonald's throughout the rest of Henderson and Las Vegas. But it also depends on the people and there was another example of someone doing his job well, what looked like maybe the manager of this location, or senior staff. Hierarchies exist for purposes of paychecks, I'm sure, someone gets paid higher, someone gets paid lower, but I don't get the feeling in Henderson that they exist as they do in places like Los Angeles. People have jobs to do, and they do them. They get paid, and they go home to do whatever else their lives entail. In Henderson, a job is only one part of their lives. There's other things to do too. It's important in order to live, but it is not a driving force.
The oatmeal was the end of my exposure to food in Henderson. After Dad's job interview, we had to start back to the border into California, and it was getting late. One major tip to impart is that if you've gone on vacation and you've had all that I've described here, don't have a footlong chipotle chicken and cheddar flatbread from Subway on the way back. I've got more on this in the weeks to come, but you end up having chipotle breath burps often.
And yet, even with having tried some new things, I've covered barely 1/16th of 1% of what's available in Henderson and Las Vegas. There's so much to try that it can take you years to get through it all. One place I'm psyched about either next time or as a resident is a Steak 'n Shake inside South Point Casino. In fact, I'm calling South Point Steak 'n Shake from now on. We had it in Florida, but there's none in California. South Point's Steak 'n Shake is the only one in Nevada. What life takes away, Las Vegas gives back, including good food.
The Henderson Chronicles, Part 1: I Need a New MP3 Player
It's a huge honking sign when two days in Henderson makes me not hate the Santa Clarita Valley anymore. I still don't like it, but I can tolerate it now and ignore all that has frustrated me for eight years because I know I'll be home soon enough. I can ignore the shallowness now, the logos of Walmart, Target, McDonald's, and other big businesses seeming to be the be-all, end-all in this valley, whereas those same logos are just part of Henderson, not dominant.
I can't simply write a day 1-day 2 recap of all that my family and I did in Henderson. This isn't a day at Six Flags Magic Mountain. This was an introduction to a life with roots I can finally have. Spending more hours in the Galleria at Sunset mall than we did on a visit in 2010, we walked through all of the mall, and I looked up at the ceiling with decorations near that are lit up at night and I truly believed that I dreamed about this mall, or a mall just like this one. On the way into Henderson, I felt like I could drive those roads. Most importantly, I want to be part of this. I want to work here, play here, explore here. I want to know everything that Henderson is and was in its history, the same as I do with Las Vegas.
Therefore, instead of a typical recap, I'm going to stretch this to many entries over this week or more than that. I'm not quite sure yet. But I'm going to start with a problem that I thought was going to be a solution.
The Monday before we left (the 16th), I deleted all the music from my mp3 player, an import from Hong Kong which boasts four gigabytes of space, which seemed to be the biggest at the time. Or the cheapest compared to what the American market was charging. Mom bought it for me and I was enthusiastic about fitting well over 100 songs on this thing.
The constant, annoying pinprick problem about this mp3 player is that it doesn't play all the music I put onto it. Some of the songs just don't show up, despite me syncing the music from the computer onto this player. Looking at the files inside the mp3 player on the computer, I see that those particular files that don't show up are in the player. So what's going on?
I still haven't figured it out. I thought this latest thorough cleansing would help. And it nearly did. One Elton John song, "Club at the End of the Street," never showed up before, and there it was now. Depeche Mode's "Strangelove" was finally there too. But now, the entire soundtrack to the 1999 Broadway production of Putting It Together had disappeared. And I had left enough room in the hope that all the songs I had downloaded to my mp3 player would show up, 1.5 gigabytes worth.
There's an old radio program, CBS Radio Workshop, that had an episode called Subways are for Sleeping, based on the Harper's magazine article by Edmund G. Love, which Love turned into a book that I proudly own. I had the episode on my mp3 player last year before deleting and starting over, and I thought I'd have it again this time. It didn't show up.
I liked that my mp3 player seemed more organized. Songs didn't look like such a jumble as I scrolled through them. The Christopher Cross and Sting albums I have were finally together. It was finally easy to get from Annie Lennox to Donna Lewis without having a long distance to travel between them. But still, half of what I had put on my mp3 player was nowhere on there.
It didn't affect my vacation in Henderson. I listened to it on the way from Santa Clarita to the road we use to bypass the Las Vegas Strip and go on to Henderson, taking a break when we stopped at the Grewal Travel Center in Baker. But that was about it. I was mostly reluctant to use it while we were driving throughout parts of Henderson because I don't get radio stations on it and it's rare that we hear radio stations of Las Vegas in the actual area, or near it in this case. But why bother also with an mp3 player that's apparently not working much for me anymore? I've had it for a few years, so it's probably time to replace it anyway.
It's impossible to top listening to the live version of Depeche Mode's "Strangelove" while driving through darkened areas of Southern California that have bright lights in the distance on the left. Really dark. Like you'd think you were looking at a fairyland at rest.
I don't know if I'll get a new mp3 player by the time we go to Henderson again, but I've got to see what may work and what's reasonable because I want to have all my songs available whenever I want, not just half of them. Or maybe it's better to wait until we're residents of Henderson to start looking. Contribute to the local economy rather than giving money to this valley. I think I can wait longer since I only use my mp3 player on long days of errands here, and the errands haven't been that long lately. Plus, things are relatively cheaper in Southern Nevada and that's worth the wait.
(I promise the entries will get better, certainly more interesting. Four days with no writing beyond what I jotted down in my composition book left me rusty, and this was the best way to start to shake out some of the rust. Something basic before I get to details important to me.)
I can't simply write a day 1-day 2 recap of all that my family and I did in Henderson. This isn't a day at Six Flags Magic Mountain. This was an introduction to a life with roots I can finally have. Spending more hours in the Galleria at Sunset mall than we did on a visit in 2010, we walked through all of the mall, and I looked up at the ceiling with decorations near that are lit up at night and I truly believed that I dreamed about this mall, or a mall just like this one. On the way into Henderson, I felt like I could drive those roads. Most importantly, I want to be part of this. I want to work here, play here, explore here. I want to know everything that Henderson is and was in its history, the same as I do with Las Vegas.
Therefore, instead of a typical recap, I'm going to stretch this to many entries over this week or more than that. I'm not quite sure yet. But I'm going to start with a problem that I thought was going to be a solution.
The Monday before we left (the 16th), I deleted all the music from my mp3 player, an import from Hong Kong which boasts four gigabytes of space, which seemed to be the biggest at the time. Or the cheapest compared to what the American market was charging. Mom bought it for me and I was enthusiastic about fitting well over 100 songs on this thing.
The constant, annoying pinprick problem about this mp3 player is that it doesn't play all the music I put onto it. Some of the songs just don't show up, despite me syncing the music from the computer onto this player. Looking at the files inside the mp3 player on the computer, I see that those particular files that don't show up are in the player. So what's going on?
I still haven't figured it out. I thought this latest thorough cleansing would help. And it nearly did. One Elton John song, "Club at the End of the Street," never showed up before, and there it was now. Depeche Mode's "Strangelove" was finally there too. But now, the entire soundtrack to the 1999 Broadway production of Putting It Together had disappeared. And I had left enough room in the hope that all the songs I had downloaded to my mp3 player would show up, 1.5 gigabytes worth.
There's an old radio program, CBS Radio Workshop, that had an episode called Subways are for Sleeping, based on the Harper's magazine article by Edmund G. Love, which Love turned into a book that I proudly own. I had the episode on my mp3 player last year before deleting and starting over, and I thought I'd have it again this time. It didn't show up.
I liked that my mp3 player seemed more organized. Songs didn't look like such a jumble as I scrolled through them. The Christopher Cross and Sting albums I have were finally together. It was finally easy to get from Annie Lennox to Donna Lewis without having a long distance to travel between them. But still, half of what I had put on my mp3 player was nowhere on there.
It didn't affect my vacation in Henderson. I listened to it on the way from Santa Clarita to the road we use to bypass the Las Vegas Strip and go on to Henderson, taking a break when we stopped at the Grewal Travel Center in Baker. But that was about it. I was mostly reluctant to use it while we were driving throughout parts of Henderson because I don't get radio stations on it and it's rare that we hear radio stations of Las Vegas in the actual area, or near it in this case. But why bother also with an mp3 player that's apparently not working much for me anymore? I've had it for a few years, so it's probably time to replace it anyway.
It's impossible to top listening to the live version of Depeche Mode's "Strangelove" while driving through darkened areas of Southern California that have bright lights in the distance on the left. Really dark. Like you'd think you were looking at a fairyland at rest.
I don't know if I'll get a new mp3 player by the time we go to Henderson again, but I've got to see what may work and what's reasonable because I want to have all my songs available whenever I want, not just half of them. Or maybe it's better to wait until we're residents of Henderson to start looking. Contribute to the local economy rather than giving money to this valley. I think I can wait longer since I only use my mp3 player on long days of errands here, and the errands haven't been that long lately. Plus, things are relatively cheaper in Southern Nevada and that's worth the wait.
(I promise the entries will get better, certainly more interesting. Four days with no writing beyond what I jotted down in my composition book left me rusty, and this was the best way to start to shake out some of the rust. Something basic before I get to details important to me.)
Thursday, January 19, 2012
Home in Henderson
We got to Fiesta Henderson and checked in a little after midnight. It's now 3:16 and 10 minutes ago, I came up to the 8th floor, to our room, from the casino floor after playing three penny slot machines. Not playing to win. I slip a dollar in, play one line at a time, and zone out into my kind of meditation, but this time, instead of thinking about my writing or various other things in my life, I just deeply appreciated that I'm home. I feel good here. We bypassed the Strip completely and drove to Henderson and I felt like I could drive those roads easily. They're manageable and navigable. It's impossible to get lost on the way to wherever you're going, and since I want to explore every inch of Las Vegas and Henderson and Summerlin (The latter merely out of curiosity), there's no way I'll ever get lost here. Besides, if I take a wrong turn occasionally (doubtful that it'll be before work, wherever that will be), there's always something to see, something to explore.
We found out that the entrance and box office of Regal Fiesta Henderson 12 is right next to the food court, barely touching a Starbucks right next to us, and across from one of the casino floors, this particular one wall to wall with slot machines from penny to $1. Very convenient for tonight when Meridith and I go to see "Beauty and the Beast 3D," either at 7:15 or 9:30 since we'll be busy during the day.
Oh! And speaking of things to do today, Dad drove us around our future apartment complex and I love it! The Review-Journal rack near the mailboxes looks a lot better than The Signal's in Santa Clarita, and the mailboxes are not only pleasantly close together, but there's a bulletin board above the middle section of mailboxes where residents can post various notices. There was one I noticed promoting a book called Confessions of a Pool Hustler by Robert LeBlanc. He lives in Las Vegas, maybe in that apartment complex which is the only way I can think that a postcard about his book would be pinned to that bulletin board, unless he knew someone who knows the bulletin boards around Henderson and posted it there. Nevertheless, I love that no matter what angles people play here, at least they seem honest in their intentions. LeBlanc wants to sell more copies of his book. Others want to win the World Series of Poker. Others just want to win at bingo or make a good life for themselves, as I do.
We also ate at Fatburger in the Fiesta Henderson food court a little after 1 a.m. I had a sausage and egg sandwich which was two sausage patties, fried egg and cheese. And I also had onion rings and a strawberry shake. I was hungry since Wienerschnitzel before we left the Santa Clarita Valley came hours before that, so it worked out. Not exactly what I would have wanted to eat (I would have preferred something healthier), but at that hour, you take what you can get and that sausage and egg sandwich was worth it. It's a fine start to the food to look forward to again here for the next two days. It tasted good and that's what mattered to me, plus the strawberry shake was terrific, and it was real ice cream since it began to melt toward the bottom.
While we were driving to Henderson, I never read any of the books we brought with me. Whenever we drive somewhere outside the Santa Clarita Valley, I spend a lot of time staring out the window, looking at all the sights, including what seemed like a crowded fairyland from afar before Victorville. It was just lights in the distance, industrial lights, streetlights, whatever, but there's a kind of magic to it at all at night.
The car Dad rented, a Nissan Cube, is like a refrigerator box on wheels, but it's sturdy, everything works, and that's what matters. The windows in the back are a combination of a hacksaw on its side on the left, then a strong rubber divider in between, and then a capital "D" with way too much junk in the trunk. It's a D that spent a lot of time in line at McDonald's, KFC, Taco Bell, etc., etc. That's the part of the window that opens, and when closed, it seems like a window on an old Greyhound bus; it seems like you can pull that "D" side of the window back a bit without having to push the button to lower the window.
It's 3:33 now and I'm lucky there've been nights in the past week when I've gone to bed past 3. Not ideal when I'll probably be up by 8 or 9, but I'll take the chance. Tomorrow we meet the new manager of our future apartment complex and that'll be an honor considering the peace of mind I feel there. I intend to be a model resident there, treating that apartment complex with the same respect it has given me in what it offers. I can't wait to see it in daylight.
More tomorrow night. Maybe a little bit after I get up soon, but I can't guarantee that, even though there's still more I want to write about yesterday.
Mom asked me how I felt about being here as we were driving toward the Strip before bypassing it completely. I didn't have an "Ohmygodohmygodohmygodohmygod!!!" feeling. It just felt so good, because I know I belong here and even with this being the first time in nearly two years that I've been here, it's still the same as I remember. It's everything I want in a home and it still delivers.
We found out that the entrance and box office of Regal Fiesta Henderson 12 is right next to the food court, barely touching a Starbucks right next to us, and across from one of the casino floors, this particular one wall to wall with slot machines from penny to $1. Very convenient for tonight when Meridith and I go to see "Beauty and the Beast 3D," either at 7:15 or 9:30 since we'll be busy during the day.
Oh! And speaking of things to do today, Dad drove us around our future apartment complex and I love it! The Review-Journal rack near the mailboxes looks a lot better than The Signal's in Santa Clarita, and the mailboxes are not only pleasantly close together, but there's a bulletin board above the middle section of mailboxes where residents can post various notices. There was one I noticed promoting a book called Confessions of a Pool Hustler by Robert LeBlanc. He lives in Las Vegas, maybe in that apartment complex which is the only way I can think that a postcard about his book would be pinned to that bulletin board, unless he knew someone who knows the bulletin boards around Henderson and posted it there. Nevertheless, I love that no matter what angles people play here, at least they seem honest in their intentions. LeBlanc wants to sell more copies of his book. Others want to win the World Series of Poker. Others just want to win at bingo or make a good life for themselves, as I do.
We also ate at Fatburger in the Fiesta Henderson food court a little after 1 a.m. I had a sausage and egg sandwich which was two sausage patties, fried egg and cheese. And I also had onion rings and a strawberry shake. I was hungry since Wienerschnitzel before we left the Santa Clarita Valley came hours before that, so it worked out. Not exactly what I would have wanted to eat (I would have preferred something healthier), but at that hour, you take what you can get and that sausage and egg sandwich was worth it. It's a fine start to the food to look forward to again here for the next two days. It tasted good and that's what mattered to me, plus the strawberry shake was terrific, and it was real ice cream since it began to melt toward the bottom.
While we were driving to Henderson, I never read any of the books we brought with me. Whenever we drive somewhere outside the Santa Clarita Valley, I spend a lot of time staring out the window, looking at all the sights, including what seemed like a crowded fairyland from afar before Victorville. It was just lights in the distance, industrial lights, streetlights, whatever, but there's a kind of magic to it at all at night.
The car Dad rented, a Nissan Cube, is like a refrigerator box on wheels, but it's sturdy, everything works, and that's what matters. The windows in the back are a combination of a hacksaw on its side on the left, then a strong rubber divider in between, and then a capital "D" with way too much junk in the trunk. It's a D that spent a lot of time in line at McDonald's, KFC, Taco Bell, etc., etc. That's the part of the window that opens, and when closed, it seems like a window on an old Greyhound bus; it seems like you can pull that "D" side of the window back a bit without having to push the button to lower the window.
It's 3:33 now and I'm lucky there've been nights in the past week when I've gone to bed past 3. Not ideal when I'll probably be up by 8 or 9, but I'll take the chance. Tomorrow we meet the new manager of our future apartment complex and that'll be an honor considering the peace of mind I feel there. I intend to be a model resident there, treating that apartment complex with the same respect it has given me in what it offers. I can't wait to see it in daylight.
More tomorrow night. Maybe a little bit after I get up soon, but I can't guarantee that, even though there's still more I want to write about yesterday.
Mom asked me how I felt about being here as we were driving toward the Strip before bypassing it completely. I didn't have an "Ohmygodohmygodohmygodohmygod!!!" feeling. It just felt so good, because I know I belong here and even with this being the first time in nearly two years that I've been here, it's still the same as I remember. It's everything I want in a home and it still delivers.
Wednesday, January 18, 2012
The Traveling Book Debate, Part 4: One More to Add, Naturally
It's a little over two hours before our compasses point strictly at Las Vegas and Henderson. Another teacher is taking over Dad's last class of the day so he and Meridith can leave and once here, Dad's going to take the dogs to the kennel in Canyon Country, stop at Enterprise to sign for the car, then someone at Enterprise will follow Dad here with it so he can park the PT Cruiser in the garage. We'll load everything we need into the trunk of what is likely to be a Kia Soul, drop the Enterprise employee back at that location, and we're off to Baker and then Las Vegas and Henderson.
I have one more book to add to my canvas bag, even though I know I won't read most of what I brought. It's what a bibliophile does: We need books with us no matter what. I just got this one in the mail today, called Fifteen Modern Tales of Attraction by Alison MacLeod, short stories about desire, loss, love, sex and whatever else MacLeod has planned in this. It was only published in the U.K., and I ordered it from a bookseller there right when I found out about it. From the back copy, some of the stories include "ECT patient Gloria, who falls for her anaesthetist, 'Dr Numb;...the cerebral Nick, who chases after the heavily pregnant Katie at an Ikea sale; and the legendary lovers Heloise and Abelard re-imagined for the twenty-first century." The ideas of these stories fit in with me craving the presence of my future home cities, knowing that when I get there, I'm going to fall for them all over again. So this is going into my canvas bag for that reason.
I've been put in charge of packing Mom and Dad's clothes into their wide blue travel bag, and my clothes and Meridith's clothes into our wide purple travel bag (Mom asked which color I wanted and I chose purple because it's Meridith's favorite color. I did that on our previous trip in 2010). In fact, that's what I have to do right now so that it's less to be concerned about by the time Dad and Meridith get home. Just sweep the bags into the trunk once our rental car arrives and that's it.
As the hours inch closer to our departure, I don't feel the vehement dislike for this valley as I usually do, definitely because I'm going home for a little while, and I know there's hope in the future with this and hopefully with Dad's success at his job interview on Friday. I hope to leave this valley and this state behind permanently and mostly forgotten in the coming months (I will only remember Six Flags Magic Mountain for the relief it gave me from this valley, and such sights as Hearst Castle further up into Northern California, as well as John Steinbeck's house, deemed an historical landmark, which makes me think every few months about reading Jackson J. Benson's biography of him. Hasn't happened yet, but it will), and zoom right into exploring every inch of where I love to be, of Las Vegas being all about hedonism, about the happy freedom that comes with it, and I know that's where I belong because I strongly believe in that.
And now it's time to get back to preparations. As Mick Hucknall of Simply Red sang in the song "Home": "I'm going home....where I belong."
I have one more book to add to my canvas bag, even though I know I won't read most of what I brought. It's what a bibliophile does: We need books with us no matter what. I just got this one in the mail today, called Fifteen Modern Tales of Attraction by Alison MacLeod, short stories about desire, loss, love, sex and whatever else MacLeod has planned in this. It was only published in the U.K., and I ordered it from a bookseller there right when I found out about it. From the back copy, some of the stories include "ECT patient Gloria, who falls for her anaesthetist, 'Dr Numb;...the cerebral Nick, who chases after the heavily pregnant Katie at an Ikea sale; and the legendary lovers Heloise and Abelard re-imagined for the twenty-first century." The ideas of these stories fit in with me craving the presence of my future home cities, knowing that when I get there, I'm going to fall for them all over again. So this is going into my canvas bag for that reason.
I've been put in charge of packing Mom and Dad's clothes into their wide blue travel bag, and my clothes and Meridith's clothes into our wide purple travel bag (Mom asked which color I wanted and I chose purple because it's Meridith's favorite color. I did that on our previous trip in 2010). In fact, that's what I have to do right now so that it's less to be concerned about by the time Dad and Meridith get home. Just sweep the bags into the trunk once our rental car arrives and that's it.
As the hours inch closer to our departure, I don't feel the vehement dislike for this valley as I usually do, definitely because I'm going home for a little while, and I know there's hope in the future with this and hopefully with Dad's success at his job interview on Friday. I hope to leave this valley and this state behind permanently and mostly forgotten in the coming months (I will only remember Six Flags Magic Mountain for the relief it gave me from this valley, and such sights as Hearst Castle further up into Northern California, as well as John Steinbeck's house, deemed an historical landmark, which makes me think every few months about reading Jackson J. Benson's biography of him. Hasn't happened yet, but it will), and zoom right into exploring every inch of where I love to be, of Las Vegas being all about hedonism, about the happy freedom that comes with it, and I know that's where I belong because I strongly believe in that.
And now it's time to get back to preparations. As Mick Hucknall of Simply Red sang in the song "Home": "I'm going home....where I belong."
Tuesday, January 17, 2012
The Traveling Book Debate, Part 3: What's in the Bag?
In the middle of this afternoon, I decided all of what I'm bringing with me to Nevada in my canvas bag. Here's what'll be in it:
- Two blank composition books (I bought these a long time ago, but never used them, and now's the time to do so, not only to keep tabs on where we went and what we did, but also to look at the businesses all around and attempt to write copy for them in order to create a copywriting portfolio for myself, should I decide to pursue a career in that. I'm also going to write about what's all around me and how I feel while I'm there, because I'd like to expand my desert music soundtrack. I've done well enough so far with "Amazonia" by Paul Lawler and Paul Speer, and two tracks by Jeff Oster ("Serengeti" and "This Place"), among others, but I've done it at a distance from Las Vegas and Henderson. I want to take what I feel about each area after I come back to Santa Clarita and put it into choosing new music to be part of this soundtrack. No goal. Just a continuing hobby to have music express my feelings about my new home and that vast, inspiring desert atmosphere.)
- 28 Barbary Lane by Armistead Maupin (The first Tales of the City omnibus, and a perfect time with a little over four hour drive to Las Vegas to begin rereading the series by reading light, since most of this drive will surely be while it's dark outside. I learned earlier though that we have no more AAA batteries, and if my reading light cuts out, I'll have to replace the batteries with what I have in my fabric mp3 case. We'll probably get more in Las Vegas or Henderson, since prices are more reasonable there.)
- Everywhere That Mary Went by Lisa Scottoline (After reading Best Friends, Occasional Enemies: The Lighter Side of Life as a Mother and Daughter by Scottoline and her daughter, Francesca Serritella, I was curious about everything else Scottoline had written, knowing that the same lighthearted style would probably not be prevalent in those books, but after learning that Scottoline's main series is legal thrillers, I immediately ordered the first of them. I may not even read it because of all there will be to do in two days, but it's what I do, and my canvas bag won't be as heavy as it was on previous trips.)
- Dog On It by Spencer Quinn (I tried reading this novel about a dog named Chet and his private detective owner Bernie in May 2009, but it didn't take. Yet, the concept still interests me, that of the dog narrating the story, and participating in solving the mystery. I ordered it last year (I borrowed it from the Valencia library the first time), but hadn't even looked at it until now, when I was deciding what to bring with me. It's another first mystery novel, first in a series, so there's that, but also because it has Chet, it's worth bringing with me, since I'll be missing Tigger and Kitty, our two dogs.)
- Personal Pleasures by Rose Macaulay (I'll be taking deep pleasure in a lot of things in Las Vegas and Henderson, so it's appropriate to have this British satirical novelist's book with me about her own pleasures. It's also just the kind of book I like, reveling in pleasure.)
I'll bring new pens with me from the holder in the kitchen cabinet, cheap and reliable blue click pens from Target. I have two in a holder next to my bed, but those are nearly out of ink. I'll start new, since many of these experiences to come, such as seeing a movie at a theater that's inside a casino, will be new to me.
Dad and Meridith are done at work at 2:15, though Dad has to wait for his substitute to arrive since she has a meeting about a student first (It's another teacher who's agreed to cover for him). Once that's done, they get home, we make sure we have everything we need for this trip, and I presume someone from Enterprise is going to pick us up since we're renting a car for this trip. I don't know yet, but chances are we'll be out on the road toward 5 p.m., onward first to Baker (Our favorite rest stop, and really the only good one that there is on the way), and then to Nevada and our new home area. For the next three days, life is going to be perfect and hopefully it'll be successful enough to lead us to permanent perfection as residents of Henderson. I'm going to thoroughly enjoy everything about it.
- Two blank composition books (I bought these a long time ago, but never used them, and now's the time to do so, not only to keep tabs on where we went and what we did, but also to look at the businesses all around and attempt to write copy for them in order to create a copywriting portfolio for myself, should I decide to pursue a career in that. I'm also going to write about what's all around me and how I feel while I'm there, because I'd like to expand my desert music soundtrack. I've done well enough so far with "Amazonia" by Paul Lawler and Paul Speer, and two tracks by Jeff Oster ("Serengeti" and "This Place"), among others, but I've done it at a distance from Las Vegas and Henderson. I want to take what I feel about each area after I come back to Santa Clarita and put it into choosing new music to be part of this soundtrack. No goal. Just a continuing hobby to have music express my feelings about my new home and that vast, inspiring desert atmosphere.)
- 28 Barbary Lane by Armistead Maupin (The first Tales of the City omnibus, and a perfect time with a little over four hour drive to Las Vegas to begin rereading the series by reading light, since most of this drive will surely be while it's dark outside. I learned earlier though that we have no more AAA batteries, and if my reading light cuts out, I'll have to replace the batteries with what I have in my fabric mp3 case. We'll probably get more in Las Vegas or Henderson, since prices are more reasonable there.)
- Everywhere That Mary Went by Lisa Scottoline (After reading Best Friends, Occasional Enemies: The Lighter Side of Life as a Mother and Daughter by Scottoline and her daughter, Francesca Serritella, I was curious about everything else Scottoline had written, knowing that the same lighthearted style would probably not be prevalent in those books, but after learning that Scottoline's main series is legal thrillers, I immediately ordered the first of them. I may not even read it because of all there will be to do in two days, but it's what I do, and my canvas bag won't be as heavy as it was on previous trips.)
- Dog On It by Spencer Quinn (I tried reading this novel about a dog named Chet and his private detective owner Bernie in May 2009, but it didn't take. Yet, the concept still interests me, that of the dog narrating the story, and participating in solving the mystery. I ordered it last year (I borrowed it from the Valencia library the first time), but hadn't even looked at it until now, when I was deciding what to bring with me. It's another first mystery novel, first in a series, so there's that, but also because it has Chet, it's worth bringing with me, since I'll be missing Tigger and Kitty, our two dogs.)
- Personal Pleasures by Rose Macaulay (I'll be taking deep pleasure in a lot of things in Las Vegas and Henderson, so it's appropriate to have this British satirical novelist's book with me about her own pleasures. It's also just the kind of book I like, reveling in pleasure.)
I'll bring new pens with me from the holder in the kitchen cabinet, cheap and reliable blue click pens from Target. I have two in a holder next to my bed, but those are nearly out of ink. I'll start new, since many of these experiences to come, such as seeing a movie at a theater that's inside a casino, will be new to me.
Dad and Meridith are done at work at 2:15, though Dad has to wait for his substitute to arrive since she has a meeting about a student first (It's another teacher who's agreed to cover for him). Once that's done, they get home, we make sure we have everything we need for this trip, and I presume someone from Enterprise is going to pick us up since we're renting a car for this trip. I don't know yet, but chances are we'll be out on the road toward 5 p.m., onward first to Baker (Our favorite rest stop, and really the only good one that there is on the way), and then to Nevada and our new home area. For the next three days, life is going to be perfect and hopefully it'll be successful enough to lead us to permanent perfection as residents of Henderson. I'm going to thoroughly enjoy everything about it.
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