light travels faster than sound

"Light travels faster than sound. That’s why some people appear bright until you hear them speak”

I put together a gallery of pictures from the other day. Yes, it’s true, Ottawa is a barn yard village but of concrete and glass. That being a fact, the one thing Ottawa has more than farms is that it has even more of it's fair-share of traffic. Yesterday, Sharon and I were on another one of our trips, creeping along a few miles in a discouraging bumper to bumper line up towards the undiscovered west end. I started to have second thoughts about our relaxing little getaway party before the oncoming busy month ahead of us. Seeing the aggressive pickup that we’d cursed out earlier, this seemed it would be mildly entertaining, but it wasn’t the kind of fun we were after.

“I want to scream,” said Sharon.

“Go ahead. I don’t mind.”

She let out a shy, reserved little scream that probably didn’t do much to release her frustration, but at least it made me laugh, and helped ease mine. In the middle of the mess, we came upon a open house. We were told the house party was under construction. Delays were expected. Thanks for the heads up.

Eventually things began to move. The space between the beers and corn starch building blocks stretched to a breathable distance, and the view through the window changed from smokestacks and oil refineries into grassy knolls and tall, green trees. It was a charming little place, it reminded me of something. Not as charming as my youth, of course, unless you have a soft spot for office parks, that is, but still a pleasant little borough.

It was the one end of town in a steep, windy place that leads to what used to be rolling farmlands. I hadn’t been on the road for what felt like years, and I was disappointed to see the hills crammed with large, anally landscaped, residential communities. We pulled the plug when sex talk got too gritty and people started falling like anvils.