My first photograph of this journey had to consist of art work of whatever kind. I liked the hanging on the wall above Bryan's head. I couldn't see it very well, but it seemed to have an oriental motif -- and how appropriate.
The grilled salmon at the Hyatt Regency on Bayshore Drive seemed ruinsously salty, but the veggies -- tender broccoli and asparagus -- tasted just right. The chef did a great job on those veggies; he must've run out of salt when he spilled it on the salmon -- haha. Later, I thought that a small dinner consisting of the Mondavi Cabernet, some Brie and the bread they serve here would have been wonderful for me, for here they bake their own bread -- and it's delicious. The only thing wrong here, aside from the excess salt on the salmon, is my Mr. Mallory's absence.
I phoned Mr. Mallory from the carousel at the airport in San Francisco. He told me that Portside had helped himself to Hodge's doggie meal, and was spoken harshly about it. Later, Portside came to Mr. Mallory, lay at his feet, and wagged his tail, as if trying to make ammends. It worked, naturally, and Mr. Mallory gave him many pats, and would have given him cookies, too, if he had known where to find them. I told him, "in the kitchen, under the clock, in the little glass thingey;" so Portside should receive a few cookies, maybe, at some point during my absence. He prefers them at bedtime. Portside is a connoisseur of doggy treats and could write a critique of his own.
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