When I first started writing this blog way back in 2001 I really had no audience nor awareness of what the intended audience for my blog would be. Since then, I’ve found that on a number of occasions, I’ve had to stop and think before I let the tirade forth. Perhaps it means that things aren’t as honest as I would really like them to be, but in a world where people have lost jobs for what they’ve put in a public sphere, one has to be a little circumspect. This was, to some extent one of those times. Perhaps I haven’t let it all out, but when it comes down to it, at this point in time, this is about letting friends and family know what’s going on in our lives. I try to inject a little humour at the appropriate times and every now and then I might even pull out something obscure, but I find when it comes to talking about what’s going on with work I have to limit it to a more factual rather than emotional accounting of what’s going on. Having said all that …
I’ve been a little distracted over the last couple of weeks. As a result of a number of things, I recently decided that I’d kind of had enough of what I am currently doing work wise and that it was time to pursue a change.
A discussion or two later about how this could be achieved and what the options were and suddenly it was looking like things could possibly happen even quicker than I had imagined. Apparently one of our US companies has won a couple of contracts (or hoping to in the very near future) and that may have opened up a chance to get back into contract management. It would also have meant a slight change in scenery.
I’d made some phone calls and due to the vagaries of catching senior management across international time zones, hadn’t actually heard anything for a week or two. Then just when you think, “Either this isn’t happening or I need to make another call,” you get some information. Another call or two later and just as you’re about to pack the kids in the car and bugger off camping for the weekend, you get a phone call from the States that leaves you thinking of Texas.
Apparently one of the opportunities that’s about to open up is located down South in the Lone Star State and with winter fast approaching us here in the soon-frozen North, dreams of a big house with a swimming pool and a nice cheap Porsche or BMW in the driveway began to infiltrate my mind.
So this morning, it was time to dust off the CV and broadcast it South to see what might eventuate.
And of course, whenever you do that, the fun really begins. Shortly after sending it I caught up with my boss up here (as promised) to let him know how things were going. I was quickly told that his conversations with our current client about potentially releasing me indicated that they should be able to make me available about July. July 2010. Yep, 9 months from now.
Talk about an instant stop on all those warm weather fantasies. Its straight back to planning for -40C again. I think New Year’s skiing, Disneyworld and a Carribean cruise might have to be in the works this time round. Anyone care to tag along?
Sep 30, 2009
Sep 20, 2009
Syphilis
No, don’t be alarmed, it’s not what you think. I don’t have it. Um, yeah, well anyway, I think I mentioned some time back the levels of general amusement that were reached when I watched medically related advertisements on North American TV, well the other day I nearly drove off the road.
I was on my way home when an advertisement came on the local radio station (which I try to avoid via podcasting of Triple J and BBC Radio 1) to mention that Fort McMurray has the highest rate of syphilis of any city in Canada. Lovely. I mean this is a bit different to Triple J covering some of the topics that they do, because that is a radio station that’s aimed at a particular demographic (one I’m quite certainly no longer a part of) where as this is the equivalent of SAFM back home.
Its just delightful to hear an add about a sexually transmitted disease on the local station, signing off with: “Syphilis, its back! Get tested!”
Tasty what?
I was on my way home when an advertisement came on the local radio station (which I try to avoid via podcasting of Triple J and BBC Radio 1) to mention that Fort McMurray has the highest rate of syphilis of any city in Canada. Lovely. I mean this is a bit different to Triple J covering some of the topics that they do, because that is a radio station that’s aimed at a particular demographic (one I’m quite certainly no longer a part of) where as this is the equivalent of SAFM back home.
Its just delightful to hear an add about a sexually transmitted disease on the local station, signing off with: “Syphilis, its back! Get tested!”
Tasty what?
Sep 9, 2009
GPS
I hear stories about people that buy GPS units for their cars and how it saves them a world of hurt. The theory goes that pre-GPS, there are poor directions, miscommunication, angst, even the occasional disagreement or suggestion of inability to read maps.
It sounded like a good idea to me, especially for those times that one wants to do something crazy like drive around LA (we had one for that trip and it was indeed a saving grace) and so I thought I’d get me some of that ‘eliminating directionally challenged discussions action’. We bought a GPS.
Now I should, in fairness mention that Caroline was never a bad navigator, nor directionally challenged and together we’ve managed to find our way all over Europe without the assistance of the new fandangled technology. However, it couldn’t hurt to have something that you just program and follow without having to resort to the map every time you get somewhere new right?
Well it turns out that I apparently have ‘better than GPS’ because whenever it gets turned on, Caroline pulls out the maps anyway and decides that where ever it is going to take us (and it doesn’t matter if it’s in fastest or shortest route mode) it simply isn’t as good as the route that she is going to take us on. So we don’t have discussions about being lost, we just drive along ignoring the instructions and watching the thing re-route itself to suit the whims of the more determined!
Apparently the technology takes information from thousands of users and massive data banks to determine which route you’re going to follow. Well I’m tending to think of them as ‘could have been’ routes. It could have been quicker, or it could have been shorter, but there’s no way I’m ever going to know! After all, we’ve got a map. Surely that’s better than some fancy shmancy satellite gizmo.
At least if I’m ever left to drive somewhere on my own, I can just set and forget and live with the consequences.
It sounded like a good idea to me, especially for those times that one wants to do something crazy like drive around LA (we had one for that trip and it was indeed a saving grace) and so I thought I’d get me some of that ‘eliminating directionally challenged discussions action’. We bought a GPS.
Now I should, in fairness mention that Caroline was never a bad navigator, nor directionally challenged and together we’ve managed to find our way all over Europe without the assistance of the new fandangled technology. However, it couldn’t hurt to have something that you just program and follow without having to resort to the map every time you get somewhere new right?
Well it turns out that I apparently have ‘better than GPS’ because whenever it gets turned on, Caroline pulls out the maps anyway and decides that where ever it is going to take us (and it doesn’t matter if it’s in fastest or shortest route mode) it simply isn’t as good as the route that she is going to take us on. So we don’t have discussions about being lost, we just drive along ignoring the instructions and watching the thing re-route itself to suit the whims of the more determined!
Apparently the technology takes information from thousands of users and massive data banks to determine which route you’re going to follow. Well I’m tending to think of them as ‘could have been’ routes. It could have been quicker, or it could have been shorter, but there’s no way I’m ever going to know! After all, we’ve got a map. Surely that’s better than some fancy shmancy satellite gizmo.
At least if I’m ever left to drive somewhere on my own, I can just set and forget and live with the consequences.
Sep 3, 2009
And the Adventure Begins ...
This week, Emily (finally) attended school all day for the very first time as she embarked on the adventure that is year 1.
There is of course mixed emotions with the youngest of the clan reaching this milestone. There’s the elation that a stay a home Mum might be tempted to indulge in as she is left with four whole days of the week where she has the opportunity to do what ever she likes for 6 hours a day (even if it is cleaning). There’s the realization that another step has passed, that there’s another kid to pester into doing homework and of course that time marches inexorably on.
Mostly its been very positive. Emily is at the same school that she attended kindergarten, so there weren’t any real transitional traumas and given her age and level of intelligence, I’d say that on the whole, she was excited by the prospect of getting to go to school and continuing to grow her fledgling knowledge.
Then last night, after day 3 of school, I went to put Emily to bed. She was most upset and told me that she needed to see Mummy. Caroline happened to be playing golf, so I told Emily that she’d not get home for a while longer yet, so she would have to put up with me (which in the past has been more than sufficient to keep her happy). She wasn’t going to have a bar of it and was very distraught. I took her upstairs, read her a story, made sure that she had ‘little husky’ and she seemed to have calmed down, but at the prospect of my leaving, the blubbering began again. What caught me by surprise was that this was real blubbering, not that fake, I’m winding you around my finger stuff that I usually get.
I probed a little to try and discover its source and asked if something had happened at school. Well that set her right off. First she just clammed up and then the tears flowed. I was worried that someone might have been picking on her (though its hard to believe that Emily would let that happen) but it turned out that someone had told her a scary story about their friend’s sister who had ended up dead (or something along those lines). Either way, it had her petrified and only Mummy coming home was ever going to fix it.
At the point that she said to me, “Can I stay home from school tomorrow?” with fear all but oozing from the pores of her skin, I was crushed. I wanted to find out who the little bugger was that had told her the story and go pay them a visit. I would have done a little more than tell a scary story too. As it stands, Caroline got home and managed to settle the little girl and she slept soundly right through the night. I haven’t yet heard how she got on in getting her to school.
There is of course mixed emotions with the youngest of the clan reaching this milestone. There’s the elation that a stay a home Mum might be tempted to indulge in as she is left with four whole days of the week where she has the opportunity to do what ever she likes for 6 hours a day (even if it is cleaning). There’s the realization that another step has passed, that there’s another kid to pester into doing homework and of course that time marches inexorably on.
Mostly its been very positive. Emily is at the same school that she attended kindergarten, so there weren’t any real transitional traumas and given her age and level of intelligence, I’d say that on the whole, she was excited by the prospect of getting to go to school and continuing to grow her fledgling knowledge.
Then last night, after day 3 of school, I went to put Emily to bed. She was most upset and told me that she needed to see Mummy. Caroline happened to be playing golf, so I told Emily that she’d not get home for a while longer yet, so she would have to put up with me (which in the past has been more than sufficient to keep her happy). She wasn’t going to have a bar of it and was very distraught. I took her upstairs, read her a story, made sure that she had ‘little husky’ and she seemed to have calmed down, but at the prospect of my leaving, the blubbering began again. What caught me by surprise was that this was real blubbering, not that fake, I’m winding you around my finger stuff that I usually get.
I probed a little to try and discover its source and asked if something had happened at school. Well that set her right off. First she just clammed up and then the tears flowed. I was worried that someone might have been picking on her (though its hard to believe that Emily would let that happen) but it turned out that someone had told her a scary story about their friend’s sister who had ended up dead (or something along those lines). Either way, it had her petrified and only Mummy coming home was ever going to fix it.
At the point that she said to me, “Can I stay home from school tomorrow?” with fear all but oozing from the pores of her skin, I was crushed. I wanted to find out who the little bugger was that had told her the story and go pay them a visit. I would have done a little more than tell a scary story too. As it stands, Caroline got home and managed to settle the little girl and she slept soundly right through the night. I haven’t yet heard how she got on in getting her to school.
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