I spent two nights in Ottawa recently. It's a great little city.
This is the Parliament building, where we sat on the grass and watched a multi-media light show and presentation on Saturday night that was hilariously low-tech and just plain endearing. Thousands of Ottawans sat on the lawn watching, very peaceful, very civil. They got up and I'm pretty sure they left the lawn cleaner than it was when they gathered.
There is a wonderful outdoor market and great restaurants: we ate at a wonderful little Greek place, a wonderful Jewish deli, and picked up the most heavenly poppy seed strudel at a bakery. I brought two loaves home.
Maybe best of all was our afternoon visiting the cows, sheep, lambs and goats at the Experimental Agricultural Farm in the middle of the city. We saw the cows being milked and learned that three of the goats are named "Plip Plop," "Rock Jumper" and "Balls."
(Yes, you can tell "Balls" from the rest of the crowd for the expected reason)
We saw our first angora goat. They have little curly perms and tiny curled horns and they're the cutest things EVER.
I still don't like pigs.
We went to St. John the Evangelist 45 minutes late for service on Sunday morning, because we thought it started at 11:00. A lovely young woman gave us a smile, handed us programs, showed us where we were in the liturgy, and later specifically told us we were welcome to take Communion, an invitation that brought tears to my eyes.
It's a super congregation, and I felt more ministered to by the last 20 minutes of their service than I have many places. One of their priests told me that they practice radical hospitality, and it shows.
Here they are, with their open doors (which, had they not been open, would have caused us to stay respectfully away due to our lateness):
While we were in Ottawa, that Gay Games had commenced in Quebec. It was a terrific time to be in Canada.
P.S. Miss Fleas is so happy to have me home she's purring so loudly I can't hear myself think.