When the Homily is about Immunology

Traffic

The other day my son and I were out and about running errands. As we were cruising along a literal corridor of trees, we rounded a bend and then came to our left turn to get home. On that particular road sat two cars waiting for me to pass by. Nicholas noted the two cars at the stop sign and said, "Now that's what I call traffic...two cars, that's traffic." Well on his way to being a country boy...thank God, cause ya know life ain't nuthin but a funny funny riddle.

Of course, we really do have traffic jams in this area...one need only wait for rush hour to watch the cars pouring off the ferry and heading north to get off Bainbridge Island to see some pretty ugly traffic. Or the snags created by roadwork in downtown Poulsbo. In Nicholas' case I think he was just recognizing that we just don't see that many cars on the roads surrounding our home, and he's right. The one nice thing about North Kitsap traffic (when it does happen) is that usually one turn will free you from it completely.

When I went and registered my wife's van I was pleased to find that I did not need to have an emission test (ahhh...fond memories of life in Sultan), and I did not have to pay the RTA tax anymore. On top of that, the move also reduced our insurance rates. Good night, why doesn't everyone live out here?
:)

Yes, of course, the commute sucks. Well...while I am sure I will tire of it eventually, I have to say that the ferry ride is quite enjoyable. An opportunity to toss out multiple blog posts, read some, knock out another page or two on that long overdue novel, or even sleep. Thus far however, on a cool sunny day, escaping the city to go home is something that can only be experienced properly by sitting up on the sun deck of the boat and watching the pristine beauty of the Puget Sound...as long as you keep your eyes looking generally westward. On stormy days, I can look out the windows and watch the wind blown white caps and call home to make sure the little woman has a fire burning, my easy chair nearby, my slippers warmed, and my pipe filled. (Let's see if she reads this).

In the morning, like this very moment, it is dark and I cannot see much of the impending borg cube we sail toward, and this seems appropriate. I have read accounts of life in Juskova Vola for my great grandparents, and how they would have to haul their farm grown or hand crafted goods a long ways into the "real" town everyday in the hopes of being able to sell them to the "city folk." I guess maybe in some ways, things have not changed all that much.

As a side, one of the local NPR affiliates here has been doing stories on the intriguing and sometimes dangerous waters of Puget Sound. They are worth reading or listening to.

Deception Pass

The white knuckle ferry run