It was an uneventful and rather dismal drive south from Seattle to Berkeley--leafless tress, lots of heavy fog in Oregon, dreary clouds and smog in California--but I do feel like this is my stretch of I-5. I've got a local's knowledge of where things are: the bridges of Portland (and how to position oneself to get through the city's traffic jams); home made tamales for breakfast in Canyonville at Ken's Sidewalk Cafe; Sailor Jack muffins from the Market of Choice deli in Eugene or Ashland; Jumpoff Joe Creek; the yellow roadside sign of a bear and her cub when you'd expect the more common jumping deer image; the friendly java stand in Ashland; the best rest areas for lichen gathering--or wool gathering when the road makes a person rather sleepy; the glorious stretches of river that follow the freeway in southern Washington; the intent cranes fishing in the rice ponds of central California; the looooong descent from the Siskiyous that tempts drivers to speeds that attract the inevitable State Patrol cars; the first glimpse of the Carquinez Bridge over the North Bay.
Yeah, I know this road all right! I'm still kind of tired and I haven't yet unpacked the 22 boxes that arrived this morning via Fed Ex Ground. (Boy, do I love Fed Ex! The cost to ship my stuff was less than the cost of renting a trailer, I could specify a delivery date, and they called to tell me when they'd be here within a 1.5 hour window.) Berkeley is trying to make me feel at home: it's raining like the dickens right now. I've done the shopping for Thanksgiving dinner, and I think I'll take a nap now.
Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!