Starbuck's Doesn't Open Until 8am on Sundays.

I can't believe we're in Portland already.

Needless to say, at around hour 8 of being in a car, you start to lose your mind, and you begin saying things like, "It's a birdpecker!" or "Don't touch my head." And after about hour 10 of listening to Harry Potter, Louis L'Amour and Star Wars on CD, all that your mind can really take is smooth jazz (it's a life saver, really).

We made it to the city, wherein which Nick and I decided to stay in a hotel so he could finish submitting his grades. We ended up going out to dinner (at 8 o'clock at night) to a place called Henry's Tavern; The receptionist at the hotel over-arduously recommended the joint after we noted our preference for a local eatery. Probably due to the fact that we both were exhausted (since we only got 4 hours of sleep the night prior), the food couldn't come soon enough in the socialite-y locale - but when it did, the gorgonzola fries tasted like joy in a calorie-laden concoction.

It's still hard to believe that we're headed to Alaska. I had asked Nick if the concept was somewhat bizarre that we're in Oregon - and tomorrow - Washington. Sometimes it's hard to see out your backdoor, or, at least, out from your comfortable little bungalow 800 miles away. He returned by noting it's odd in a sense that he doesn't know what to expect once we get there. I agreed, but then again, I've seen plenty of episodes of Deadliest Catch and Sarah Palin's Alaska, and I'm sure those are completely accurate in their representation of the state.

Here's to tomorrow, one day closer to the unknown.