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Looks like were developing a trend here on British Cardboard.

Product Design student Phil Bridge has created a Cardboard Bicycle, at a production cost of $6 (£3 ) without wheels, and only $30 (£15) with wheels and chain. 

See the article here 

It seems that there is so much I could comment on that I don’t know where to start, or why. It seems also that by the time I’ve digested the latest idiocy or oddity (wait, wasn’t that a work by Homer? nevermind), others have already beaten me to the punch. Again, given the significant decline in comments, I’d have to surmise interest is waning. I’m going to take a sabbatical from blogging until I have (a) something worthy of blogging about and (b) something not already blogged to death. Happy Summer!

So, I took a trip across the water (bay) last week to visit the team of people that we will be answering to now that they have acquired half of our company today. Half is going to one former parent, the other to the other parent, roughly. Along the way we drove past the neighborhood I grew up in, from birth, and lived in, until I got married and moved out in the late 1980’s. I haven’t been back there in 3 or 4 years. A lot has changed. A lot is still the same. But that’s only the beginning.

We arrived and met the team and they took us on a tour of the buildings and rooms they work in. These are the same buildings and rooms I lived in for about 3 years. It was starting to feel like “this is your life”. The same people were in the same places, doing the same things. Time stands still in some respects.

After we left there, we drove over to one of our offices over there. That office holds the people of a company I worked at more than fifteen years ago. Many of the same people were there. Walking up and talking to me, catching up on where everyone’s gone (or not gone) and who’s still alive. It was becoming weird. A trip back in time.

Then we go downstairs to eat lunch at a cafeteria that was once the central eatery of the mall, before it was all converted into a quiet, empty office complex. Walking through it reminded me of working at the record store (before they were CD’s). Saturday nights hanging out with friends. Going to the movies with my parents. Eating at the cafeteria. The same cafeteria that my dad suffered his fatal stroke. I sat a few tables away from the location he and my mom were eating at that night in 1987.

A cruel joke? God has a sense of humor. Or, I thought, it was finally “my time” and the end was any minute now. I sat quietly on the drive back to our home office thinking something was going to happen any minute. A semi running over us. A crashing asteroid or airplane. But nothing happened. I got back and had to sift through the feelings for a while. I got home, cracked open a beer and sat in the backyard at sunset by myself. It was one of the quietest times I’ve ever had sitting in my backyard.

My neighbor behind us is like 90 yrs old and beginning to suffer from Alzheimer’s gradually every week.  One of his sons who lives with him has a bunch of dogs.  One being a short beagle, which found a roundabout hole through our fence and spent most of the night scratching and crying at our back door.  Each time I’d carry it around the block and put it back in his yard, it would be back in our yard before I got back home.  I finally had enough and called the son at his work.  He got his dog back and patched the hole around 11pm or so.  It’s been a long night.