LAST HOURS/DAY 01: Portland to Oakland

Sunday, March 30th-Monday, March 31st

The night before we left Portland I had a bad moment. The house was in pieces (more pieces than one would think possible), I was tired of dealing with it after several days of 12-hour packing and cleaning sessions, but it had to be sorted in order for us to leave town by 9 a.m. Monday morning. I ended up having a big cup of tea, and we managed it, in fact did more than I'd thought (though less than I'd planned--sorry Christine!). We got to bed before 2, and the kitty was thoughtful. No yelling, and cuddled lots, which was good as she had been especially precious to me the last few days. I've never been away from her for more than a few weeks in the last 17 years, and knowing how much I would miss her had been adding to the strain.

We actually got out by about 9:20 on Monday morning, and even ate a breakfast, of sorts. It was as close to being on time as either of us ever remembers being. It was a soft green and gray day as we drove out, saying goodbye to the river and the rows of cherry trees. I haven't done the drive down 5 to the bay area in about 10 years. Back then it was a much older car, we didn't have ipods, probably not even a cd player, and certainly no iphones to scope out possible lunch spots and routes. In mid-afternoon, we passed from Oregon into California. I started sneezing immediately. I am allergic to California, which is not entirely psychological, because I grew up there and had plenty of time to get sensitized to all its lovely flora. Plus, while Oregon is starting to bloom, California is in full swing. Dave commmented that we were essentially driving into Spring. The scenery going through Shasta county was gorgeous--soft greens and purples and dark orange earth. Not that Portland isn't enjoying a lovely *early* Spring, but we were passing through Spring full-blown, in a landscape that had been saturated by a lot more sunshine than we've seen up north for almost a year. I remember the orange earth. I think it's because of the high iron content, but I forgot to ask my mom, Jane about that. When we lived in the Sierra foothills, we were surrounded by the rich orange dirt--used to get covered in it fairly regularly, and when it rained heavily (rarely) the tap water turned dark red, though it was apparently perfectly safe to drink.

It was a long drive to the bay area. I've heard of people doing it in 8 hours, but they were crazy--we made it in 10 1/2, taking no real breaks except to run to the bathroom or do a drive through. We first glimpsed the bay at sunset, and lugged our bags into my mom's house just before dark, enjoying the 60-plus degrees and the soft flowery smells. My mom's partner Bill made one of his amazing spaghetti dinners (involving lots of wine, cheese, very long pasta and several sorts of meats). He is an Italian from New Jersey, and was heartily approving of the Soprano's Cook Book, said it was very accurate to his own family cooking (and so must be pretty great). My dad Steve was there, too, and we had a wonderful meal, with several stories of the old days told by Jane and Steve in classic tag-team fashion. Around 10:30 Dave and I flopped with fatigue, and so to bed.

P.S. Thank you so much Christine for taking care of Bad!