These videos were apparently commissioned by Microsoft UK…they are absolutely hilarious. One of my favourite lines:
You know who my hero is? Nelson Mandela. 30 years in prison, yeah? 30 years in confinement. He’s been out now for 13 years. 13 years, and he hasn’t reoffended. It shows he’s reformed. It shows that prison works.
C’mon. That’s awesome. The videos are spoof Microsoft training tapes and are done by the guy from The Office. Go. Watch.
We are moved into our new place, and at long last it is starting to feel like home. Moving with an infant is far more difficult than I would have thought; the little man would interrupt whenever we got going with unpacking, with the net result being that we have been living in chaos for far longer than we would normally (I say normally, because moving has become the norm).
Observe the chaos:
Notice in this picture that the baby amongst the mountains of unassembled furniture and unpacked boxes is sleeping, signalling a rare moment of potential productivity.
All that said, we are beginning to feel well settled here…just in time for me to take off again. I’m hopping a flight to SF tomorrow morning, and will be gone the better part of the week…but it will be nice to have a home to come home to.
Last week we were up at Laura’s cottage with Ethan, rediscovering the joys of barbecuing and recalling that long forgotten pleasure known as “fresh air”. Ethan, for his part, seemed to be okay with the arrangements…
I know it’s highly unlikely that anyone is visiting this blog to see pictures of Vespas…far more likely that Ethan is in demand, I imagine.
It was a total of eleven days that I was away from Laura and Ethan, and in that time it seems like the little guy changed quite a lot. He has so much more control now, and he has grown in some more hair to add to his little mohawk. But he still only rolls over for me (he did it again this morning!).
When I was in New York I found myself flipping through all the photos of Ethan that I had, as I was very anxious to see him again, and I was stricken with how much he has grown and changed already. It’s quite incredible to see him grow, and the pace is astounding.
I’m headed north today and won’t have access to email until late tonight. In a pinch, I can be reached after 5pm at 416-834-7694.
It wasn’t hard to think of who would like a picture of this one as I was walking around…Dad, this one’s for you:
I have to be honest; I love Paris. There is nowhere else that I have been where every part of the city seems so considered. Even the back alleys are nice.
A very long trip back, but thankfully uneventful. Things went long at work before leaving…long as in leaving the office at 4am, then heading straight to the hotel to pick up my bags and head to the airport. A lot security and a few rounds of narcolepsy later I staggered into Newark airport…one of my least favourite places on the planet.
You could pick the British travellers out of the unbelievably long lines, as they were the poor saps who were forced to carry on nother more than their wallets and travel documents in small, transparent plastic bags.
Paris was a pretty sweet place to work…long hours that were offset by seemingly ever present champagne. Wine with lunch. Not too shabby, over all.
When I arrived last weekend it was my hope to get a haircut before work started. I had all day Sunday, so I figured it would be easy…but then, of course, that’s a very North American way of thinking about haircuts. Evidently, that is something that people just don’t do on a Sunday in Paris. But not just any Sunday, we’re talking a Sunday in August.
As it turns out, pretty much everything was closed, the city itself pretty much abandoned. But it’s funny how a city can maintain its charm even if there’s no one there. But that certainly didn’t help my hair. Between New York, where you seem to require a month’s notice to get a hair cut, and Paris, where heaven forbid anyone should cut hair on a Sunday, I’m having very little luck.
I somehow managed to end up working right through the night here, so that I’ve come back to the hotel to pick up my things and go straight to the airport. For worried parental types, have no fear; it looks like things won’t be so bad at the airport, and I’ll send up flares as soon as I’m back stateside.
Now if only I can convince them to let me bring my wine home…
Though I haven’t actually had time to mention it, I’m in Paris right now. I got a last minute call last week, and two days later I was on a plane; not the most extensively planned trip I’ve been on. When I arrived, I had no money and no idea if my bank card would work (it doesn’t work in the States, but it does work here).
The fun now will be in getting back. Rumor has it that no laptops are allowed as carry on, and worse still, no liquids. I’m not thrilled at the prospect of checking my laptop, nor am I happy about giving up the bottle of wine that I bought…are they afraid that I might try to hijack the plane by getting the pilot drunk?
A very cool article in the Times today talking about something called High Dynamic Range photos, which are a clever solution to the problem of having to choose between a bright foreground and a bright background. By merging a series of photos, you can get a single picture with dazzling effects. I’m going to have to try this!