As noted in previous posts, it's a relatively easy trip. Straight shot down Interstate 90. Except this time of year with there's the small matter of the Cascade Range and snow.
With the intensity of a NASA metereologist plotting out a space shuttle launch, the Wonderfully Patient Spouse has been analyzing weather patterns for the last two weeks. Basically inconclusive weather patterns I should add. It could snow -- or maybe not. So when Saturday rolled around under pale, cold sun-lit skies, we did what any self-respecting Thanksgiving pilgrims would do: We said Screw It, hopped in the car and headed west.
Ben didn't know what to do when he found out he was not part of trip. (Personally, I think he was a little relieved. Especially when we gave him carte blanche to the living room sofa.)
It was clear and dry till we reached the Columbia River. (I'm sorry. I couldn't resist the rattlesnake sign. It just kind of cracks me up. It's an Eastern Washington thing.)
It was all down hill (so to speak) from there.
So here I sit in the parlor of the Shafer Baillie Mansion B & B, cuppa Italian roast at my side, fire going in the fireplace -- already happily satiated with Indian food, Picasso, New York-style pizza and pulpos (that would be octopus) tapas.
And it's snowing. So much for dodging snowflakes.