Portland to Ashland

Bridge in Lithia Park, Ashland, Oregon

Several restaurants are within a few blocks of our hotel. One is Besaw's, which claims to have been granted the first liquor license in Oregon after the repeal of prohibition. I can't vouch for that, but I can vouch for the quality of breakfast.

Sandra has farmer's hash, which is your basic eggs, potatoes, bacon, cheese type mess. I have wild salmon scramble.

The food is simple but tasty, the space small and well-lit. Despite the best efforts of Morrissey whining in the background, the place buzzes with people starting their week on a happy note.

We gaze at passersby on the sidewalk out front while navigating our way through the meal. As sendoffs from a town go, this works just fine.

Back on I-5, there is a fleeting sense of melancholy at leaving a good place. But it soon dissipates as we discuss plans for a return trip to Portland.

We prefer to look forward rather than backward, and today is no exception. After a brief stop at Gettings Creek Rest Area, we arrive in Ashland in time to rest before meeting up with my mom and stepfather for an evening at the Oregon Cabaret Theatre.

The key to enjoying dinner theater is to enter with an understanding that it will be ridiculous. Tonight's performance is called “Life Could Be a Dream” and is based on songs of the '50s and '60s, which is when most of the audience attended high school or college.

The canned soundtrack will annoy you if you let it. But the vocal harmonies and choreography are solid, and the story is sufficiently inane to keep from distracting. One of the actors has a visible tattoo, providing an unintentionally amusing anachronism.

There is no pretense of high art here. It's just stupid fun, enjoyed with loved ones. After 300 miles on the highway, I'm cool with that.