Life Signs
I saw one of those Mercedes-Benz based
Colani Trucks today when I was shopping at the local mall on my way home from work. (
Here and
here are better looks at similar truck designs by Colani.) Let me tell you that while they look like what a Science Fiction prop designer would come up with when asked to design a truck after having produced his gazillionth MonCalamari Battlecruiser, we are talking a major piece of design coolness in real life.
Those things look infinitely cool up close, which is why they are employed by many firms in the course of some promotion tour or other. That is a pity though, because I sure wouldn't mind seeing them more often instead of the endless procession of the same old boxy trucks that seem to be everywhere around here. Sure, they wouldn't clog up the roads any less, but as far as I know they use up less fuel due to reduced air resistance, and they are way more interesting to look at when sitting in the middle of a traffic jam.
(And yes, the fact that this is the only semi-coherent thing I have come up with in two weeks means that I'm still too pooped to write a proper blog post. But at least S and U come visiting us this Saturday, and next Saturday we'll meet up with G, whose much valued friendship we just might salvage yet! A big fat Yay! to that.)
An Update Fuelled by Guilt
I'm thoroughly pooped. And it looks like this is unlikely to change in, oh, a couple years or so.
Creating the Plain Layne Archive from the Google cache and other sundry bits and pieces has used up a lot of energy, more than I had expected in fact. But then, it was an excellent way to burn off all the frustration about the whole fiasco, so I don't really mind. Except that the resulting mental exhaustion, combined with the ongoing work-related stress (the Project from Hell has proceeded to the prototype phase and in another project, a deadline looms at the end of the month with lots of documentation still largely unwritten) and the need to finish a lot of things before the arrival of our daughter has kept me unwilling and unable to write anything as of late.
But at least a few important things have been accomplished: there is only one remaining wall in a room on the upper floor that needs to be painted, and then we can put the paint brushes aside, with the remaining house construction tasks being the cork parquet and the bathroom tiles on the upper floor. Halleluja, there's an end in sight!
In baby-related news, we have ordered
a stroller as well as a
Maya Wrap baby carrier. S and U, our long lost and finally found again friends have come through with the first packs of baby clothes, this in stark constrast to my wife's colleague and her partner, from whom we seem to be lucky to get a few baby bottles, if anything at all, despite their big promises when they were almost the first to learn about our pregancy. Their gift aside, S and U have proved again to be wonderful people when we visited them on Sunday a week ago - a wonderful time was had by all, including their little son, who is absolutely fascinated by my wife and me and was constantly making contact with us throughout the evening. (Note to self: train your stomach muscles! They start hurtign halfway through the evening every time we visit S and U from laughing so much.)
As far as G, our former(?) best friend is concerned, things are looking glum. We phoned her last weekend, and the talk was... weird, there is no other word for it. She was extremely reserved (understatement alert - it would have been easier to get something out of a clamshell), and it looks dubious whether we'll actually see each other this year. This with just an 80 minute drive between our homes! To add insult to injury, the reasons for her withdrawal completely elude us, and we sure won't get anything even remotely approaching an answer out of her unless we meet in person, which looks extremely unlikely in the foreseeable future, and this loop continues to frustrate us to no end. OK, we do have a hunch, and we've had that hunch since first meeting her on our Mexico trip five years ago. But it is just that, a hunch, and even if the circumstances of our last phone call seem to corroborate said idea, we still can't think of a way to nonchalantly introduce the topic in a conversation to assure her that we are OK with this, especially if we have all reason to believe that she herself isn't. Damn. Double Damn.
In completely different news, I have always been a big believer in the idea that when words fail, music will have to jump into the breach, so I present you the worst rendition of what has got to be one of the greatest love songs in the world.
Sorry, Stan!
