Ben, me and Pink Martini

Ben, the dog, and I hit the road Thursday for a cross-state car trip. The Wonderfully Patient Spouse had a conference in Seattle. What better excuse than to slip out of Bermtopia and check in on Number 2 Son -- and maybe play just a little?

Ben is a reluctant traveler at best. An old soul, he likes his yard and bed and Comstock Park. But every once and awhile, we'll shake up his little canine world and hit the road. To ease the pain, I promised the pup we would stop at almost every rest area on I-90. He was not impressed.

Rest stop pet areas on the east side of the state are less than inspiring. Dirt, tumbleweeds and prickly grass. Ben looked like he was walking on hot coals as he meandered across the pet area at Moses Lake.

Rye Grass Hill was better. There were chipmunks! Yessss! Things are looking up.

And, yes, that's Mount Rainier in the background.

Once over the Vantage Hill, the landscape improves considerably although Ben failed to see the charm of the Bottle Cap House in Ellensburg.

Just outside of Ellensburg, there's actually grass. And a herd? flock? gaggle? of wild turkeys.

But of course there's nothing like The Promised Land. The Green Lake loop. Happy dog.

P.S. I want to go on record there's nothing quite as satisfying as belting out "Hey Eugene" with Pink Martini surrounded by the Cascades. Gone, gone, gone.