Here we are in Fremont, in the cozy but definitely budget Marriott Courtyard. "No frills but clean and pleasant" about sums it up, and at this stage that's just what we were looking for after a 12-hour drive through just about the ruralest countryside I'd ever seen.
I read through the entirety of My Man Godfrey in one sitting last night, and it was a rather different experience from the movie. In many ways, I think the movie is better, and apparently Eric Hatch thought the same, or at least that the movie did justice to the book, even though the story departs pretty radically after the first handful of recognizable scenes. Still, a good book and well worth the $2 and long hunt it took me to get it.
For breakfast Laurie and I went to "Mother's Bistro and Bar," purported by those who purport such things as having the best breakfast in Portland. I found it to be enjoyable but nothing that exciting ... but it's kinda hard to make toast, eggs, and ham in a way that people will rave about it I suppose. From there it was back to the hotel to check out, rescue the Thirsty Escape from the valet, and get ourselves onto I-5 headed back for California.
Shortly into the trip we broke out Jeeves In the Morning, the other Wodehouse CD I'd acquired for the purpose, and we spent an enjoyable (if a bit grueling) 12 hours in a constant state of travel, with only occasional pauses to have lunch or stretch our legs. We got an up-close and personal view of Mt. Shasta, which was appropriately breathtaking in the way that only a snow-capped dormant volcano can be, and saw farmland. Lots and lots and lots of farmland. Once Jeeves In the Morning was spent, we listened to "Swing Street," the Sirius Radio swing and big band jazz station the rest of the way.
Once back in what you might call the southern stretch of northern California, we connected with Kerry, who once again bought us dinner (Stop that!) and topped off the evening with a nice hot chocolate from Bay Street Coffee Company (well I did, anyway ... neither Kerry nor Laurie partook of post-dinner drinkage). It's now a quarter to midnight -- again -- and I am totally zonked. Beddie-bye time!