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"Culture eats strategy for breakfast and operations excellence for lunch and everything else for dinner." ~ Bill Aulet, MIT 2013
Many design articles call for "Engaging workplace design that doesn't stop with a response to technological and real estate needs. It must go further, supporting the creation and integration of a company's culture, brand identity, and overall community."
We've taken up that challenge. We want to draw out the distinction between "space", which is the physical part of the workplace, and "place", the social aspects of a work environment.
Genesis of the concept
It all begins with "purpose". What is the purpose of the workplace? What is the purpose of those who perform their work in that place? And how do those two relate to each other? It is our contention that we are currently experiencing a shift in cultural narrative/story from the "Old Story" to a new one.
The purpose of work and where it gets done is changing quickly. We are talking about purpose in the context of work, where many of us find our highest purpose. However, we live in an increasingly purposeless world filled with purposeless work. The Old Story and its attendant social institutions were designed to promote continuous growth. These institutions are no longer life affirming, nor supportive of personal well-being (integration of body, mind, and spirit), let alone human wholeness (integration of individuals into a greater whole).
- Culture
A culture may be defined as the set of beliefs, values, and behaviors, generally shared by the members of a society or population. If only one person believes in or engages in a certain behavior, that belief or action is a personal habit, not a pattern of culture. For something to be considered cultural, it must be generally shared by some population or group of individuals. Another defining feature of culture is that it is learned. The way we communicate with each other, the procedures used to perform certain actions, and the behaviors we consider inappropriate are learned. Signs of organizational culture can be seen in the way people interact in meetings; who attends, where they sit, how many voice an opinion?
Problems arise when there is a mismatch between an organization's culture and the environment in which it operates.
- Space
Spaces are physical locations where interactions occur and things happen, value is exchanged, and people collaborate in forming shared purpose. Our purpose, our story, and all that comes with it are more than neurons ring away in our brains. They encompass everything that reminds us that we're are living, feeling beings that exist in this space, here and now. But, as you will see, a space on its own is not enough—it must become a place.
- Place
Place goes beyond the three physical dimensions of our built environment. Place adds a social dimension. A place is a fourth dimension where space takes on personal meaning. It's about taking meaning from direct and sometimes indirect experiences. Recently, people who build the spaces we live and work in have come to realize that the physical characteristics of space do indeed shape our thoughts, emotions, and even our actions. Listen to Winifred Gallagher, author of The Power of Place: How Our Surroundings Shape Our Thoughts, Emotions, and Actions:
"The basic principle that links our places and (emotional) states is simple: a good or bad environment promotes good or bad memories, which inspire a good or bad mood, which inclines us toward good or bad behavior. We needn't even be consciously aware of a pleasant or unpleasant environmental stimulus for it to shape our states."
We take meaning from spaces by interacting with others in these spaces, and that meaning is influenced by our ideas, beliefs, and attitudes towards those spaces.
Why place is so important?
Think about the differences between space and place. A house is just a house—cement, wood, plaster, wiring, plumbing, windows, doors, floors, etc.—and nothing else without people. As important as houses and buildings are, they are not nearly as important as people. We have lived in trees, caves, mountaintops, and jungles without real houses. But we cannot live without others, as we are, above all, social beings. A home is the house plus people plus purpose. So space is important, but place is of utmost importance. We are all related, and relationships are what truly keep us alive. How do we turn space into place? We know that it's important and why it's important, but just as no person is an island, purpose—the sharing of one's gift, and being of service to others—can only happen with and by the grace of others; in other words, in a place.
A home = house + people + purpose.
Practical design guidelines
Are you in the right place? One of our recurring themes is that if your purpose is not in harmony with what you do at work, then work literally won't work for you. This also holds true for the community where you live. You experience much stress when there is a barrier to living your purpose and sharing it with others. We've all been there. "This place just doesn't feel right." You feel out of place. So, how to you build place? What are the building blocks?
Building blocks
We have talked about culture and how it gets learned through the use of symbols, myths of behavior, and normative rituals. Culture, in the large, is what gives us meaning, gets translated in attitudes, and finally drives behavior. By translating the cultural idea of "conceptions/meaning" and "activities/behavior" we have a picture of the building blocks.
Now, it becomes the task of the workplace designer to equally consider place, attitudes, and behaviors. Designers have to be informed by social psychology and anthropology.
Does the built environment influence attitudes? Yes, of course, because the physical artifact sends signals about embedded cultural values. What kind of attitude would be brought out in a casino setting? A cathedral? A prison cell? What does your office inspire in you? And behavior follows directly from attitudes.
The task of the designer is different today than it was even 30 years ago. In the words of Peter Block from his book The Answer To How Is Yes:
"The task of the social architect is to design and bring into being organizations that serve both the marketplace and the soul of the people who work within them. Where the architect designs physical space, the social architect designs social space."
Future forward
If your purpose is your "why of whys", then what's the why of place? There is an old saying in architecture: "form follows function". What are the implications if a core function of a space is to communicate something symbolically? What form will that space take? The answer reveals what we call the brand of a place, which is what we will explore in an upcoming article.
Three interrelated things are going on here concerning turning space into place. First, there is the physical, practical part. Place is a crucible for interaction with others. Humans need somewhere to interact. We design and construct places to encourage and support purposeful engagement.
Second, places give you meaning. The German sociologist Georg Simmel said it best in the late 19th century. He suggested that human society was an intricate web of multiple relations between individuals in constant interaction with one another. These interactions are grounded in time and space—not just some hazy mental activity.
Last, places are important in a symbolic sense. Places are where we can recognize our interconnectedness, our mutuality, and our shared values. They are the where of moving from the me to the we. They are where relatedness and relationships become noticeable. Think of the family holiday dinner; the summer celebrations in the town square or green; the communion of church. If it doesn't have meaning and cultural relevance it doesn't contribute to our purpose. Does a typical Old Story conference room imbue people with a sense of meaning and cultural relevance?


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Are you looking for discount airfare to Finland?
On Sunday evening Finish Aviation Union (IAU) and airlines' representative rejected state mediator Esa Lonka's request for a new pay deal.
IAU said that the union members will start a strike on Monday, at 5 a.m. local time.
Operations of Finnair, Finncomm and SAS's Blue1 will be harshly affected by a walk-out of about 900 air transport technical staff, that will stop all aircraft maintenance.

subset: commoncrawl


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My search engine has been hijacked by findasap.com. I have deleted all temp files, cache, installed ad blockers but cannot get it to go away.
Use TFC ( yes I know you have done it already ) & then look in your Add-ins, Add & Remove programs, reset your homepage & do a search in the registry for findasap.com.
Please double-click TFC.exe to run it. (Note: If you are running on Vista/Windows 7, right-click on the file and choose Run As Administrator).
It will close all programs when run, so make sure you have saved all your work before you begin.
Click the Start button to begin the process. Depending on how often you clean temp files, execution time should be anywhere from a few seconds to a minute or two. Let it run uninterrupted to completion.
Once it's finished it should reboot your machine. If it does not, please manually reboot the machine yourself to ensure a complete clean.
When I try to download that file McAfee stops it saying it is harmful. Just want to confirm.
"When I try to download that file McAfee stops it saying it is harmful. Just want to confirm"
That's a false positive, in other words continue.
Thank you and done. My search engine is working again.
Nice work Robin.
I got such browser hijacker before. It's quite annoying!
I am having this problem, too. I ran TFC (and it rebooted my PC). I have searched Add/Remove Programs and the registry for "findasap" and found nothing. My homepage is reset. Are there any other things to do/check?
I've also run virus scans, ad blockers, and malware removal software. Too bad Find-ASAP is a horrible search engine or I'd just use it.
"I've also run virus scans, ad blockers, and malware removal software"
Run ESET & post the log please.
Why Would I Ever Need an Online Virus Scanner?
I already have an antivirus program installed, isn't that enough?
Once onto a machine, malware can disable antivirus programs, prevent antimalware programs from downloading updates, or prevent a user from running antivirus scans or installing new antivirus software or malware removal tools. At this point even though you are aware the computer is infected, removal is very difficult.
How can I view the log file from ESET Online Scanner?
The ESET Online Scanner saves a log file after running, which can be examined or sent in to ESET for further analysis. The path to the log file is "C:\Program Files\EsetOnlineScanner\log.txt". You can view this file by navigating to the directory and double-clicking on it in Windows Explorer, or by copying and pasting the path specification above (including the quotation marks) into the Start ? Run dialog box from the Start Menu on the desktop.
What is TSF?
I don't know what that stands for. I'm having the same problem with hijacked search engines,but don't knwo that TSF means


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Flames engulfed him. The smell of burning flesh filled his nostrils. He tried to run but his feet wouldn't move. The floor was a sea of fire. He screamed for help but no sound came. Thick black tar oozed from his mouth. A frenzied barking cut through the roar of the flames. He jerked awake; the bedroom hazy with smoke. Buster, his old Jack Russell, was on the bed, barking and wagging his tail frantically. He staggered through to the kitchen. The chip pan was ablaze, the smoke alarm melted by the column of flame beneath it. He started to cough. The heat was intense. He grabbed a towel and plunged it into the washing up bowl. Covering his face from the flames with his arm, he managed to throw the damp towel over the pan, extinguishing it.
The kitchen was a mess. Soot stains on the walls, a burnt patch on the ceiling and a thin film of grease over everything. The whole house reeked of smoke. His son Charlie, and daughter Sue, sat opposite him at the kitchen table. She'd wiped it down and sprayed air freshener around to try and cut down the smell. They weren't happy. "You said you were going to change the battery in the smoke alarm months ago." She looked at him. The despair in her eyes all too obvious.
Arnold Tramper was in his late seventies and things had been slipping for some time. The burnt saucepans, the overflowing baths, the lost keys and misplaced wallets; the mobile phone he never charged and the remote emergency alarm fob he never wore. And now this. He realised that if it hadn't been for Buster he wouldn't even be having this conversation. The situation couldn't go on. They'd driven round to see the various care homes on offer but none had inspired them with any confidence. They sat in the kitchen. A pile of brochures lay on the table in front of them. Arnold sipped from a mug of tea, a despondent expression clouding his face. The cracked mug showed a picture of the Forth Road Bridge, the last surviving one of a set of great bridges of the world presented to him by his colleagues when he retired from the engineering works over a decade ago. He remembered the thrill of working on the bridge as part of the structural maintenance crew.
High above the slate grey river looking out across Queensferry he could see the Burns monument jutting into the sky from Princes Street in Edinburgh many miles away. The sun glittered off the water hundreds of feet below. As a fit young man he'd felt immortal up there amongst the wheeling gulls. But that was many years ago, and these days' getting to the top of the stairs was the best he could hope for. His knee replacement operation had not been a great success and his pronounced limp and painful stiffness if he stayed seated for too long was getting worse.
His son spread the brochures across the table. In the corner of the room Buster nibbled at one of his claws, broke wind loudly and circled his bed before collapsing with a satisfied grunt onto the frayed blanket he called home. "What do you think?" Arnold surveyed his son through rheumy eyes. "They were all rubbish." He poked an arthritic finger at one of the brochures. "Except that one. That was nice." His daughter reached over and took his liver spotted hand gently. "We thought so too…but." She looked to her brother, eyes pleading, knowing there was no real answer. Arnold nodded. "Too bloody expensive. His son sighed. "Over a thousand pounds a week. Daylight robbery. You have to be poor or rich to get what you need these days, we fall between two stools." There was a silence. Broken by a sudden frenzied barking from Buster.
Like a cartoon dog his legs spun on the slippery vinyl floor as he hurled himself up and out of the door like a rocket headed for the hall. The letterbox clacked and a deluge of leaflets and junk mail flopped onto the mat. Buster returned triumphantly with a thick envelope clenched in his jaws.
Arnold smiled. One of the few pleasures he had left was watching Busters antics with the morning mail. It was called morning mail, but only people of his age could remember when it actually arrived in the morning. "C'mere Buster." He waved his hand at the whirling dog as it thrashed the letter around dementedly. After a brief tussle Buster relinquished the letter in exchange for a digestive biscuit. A standard act of barter he'd perfected over the years. Arnold opened it. "Probably just junk."
He scanned the letter inside before reaching for the brochure that accompanied it. His daughter looked over. "What is it?" Arnold shook his head, confused. "Some sort of free offer." His son snorted. "Yeah right, no such thing as free…look for the asterisk." His dad had told him that as a child. Arnold studied the brochure. It showed a picture of a modern building set in beautiful surroundings. Well laid out gardens lined a drive winding through mature trees populating a wood carpeted with a soft layer of bluebells. He recognised it as being near the local wood just outside of the town. It adjoined a golf course. He'd been to a wedding held in the clubs grounds many years ago. His daughter read the letter "They're offering you a place." Arnold shook his head sadly. "What's the catch?" She read down the page. "Doesn't seem to be one."
She read aloud. "Oudelands House is a state of the art modern facility created to provide care in the local community for senior citizens who find themselves outside of the normal funding options. We offer you the chance to help us become better by providing us with feedback in lieu of charges. All that we ask is that you give us a weekly report on how your stay could be improved.
She went on. Our research has discovered that you, Arnold Tramper, are a perfect candidate for our program, and we would like to offer you a lifetime place at the home. She looked up, eyes full of hope. His son took the letter from her. "No asterisk. Arnold looked down at Buster. "What about him?" His daughter flicked through the brochure. Pointed to a picture of an old lady with a dog sitting next to her.
"They allow pets as long as they are well behaved." Arnold smiled for the second time that day. They arrived at Oudelands House on a crisp Saturday morning. The grounds were glorious. The sun lancing through the trees gave the buildings a celestial aura. Early snowbells heralded the end of winter, and gardeners were hard at work preparing the grounds for the coming seasons blooms. The manager of the home was there to greet them.
Miss Davenport, a well preserved lady of unfathomable age showed them around. The rooms were clean, the air sweet with some kind of aromatic spice, and Buster made a special effort not to disgrace himself; though a potted palm caught his eye and he made plans to visit it later. The residents seemed happy. Dotted around in the various rooms that led off the main corridors. Arnold saw a couple playing chess. They seemed to be moving the pieces effortlessly. He looked on with amazement as they went from start to checkmate within few minutes. Other residents worked on large jigsaws, Suduko, and crosswords.
A small group sat watching a documentary suggesting that Aztecs were really Aliens who'd landed on Earth thousands of years ago. Compared to the other residential homes he'd visited this seemed infinitely calmer and more relaxed. A feeling of optimism started to creep over him.
They walked through the large dining room. Whatever was being served looked and smelled delicious. As they were shown around the various treatment rooms and facilities Arnold was amazed at the quality and cleanliness of the home. At the end of the tour they all agreed, Oudelands was out of this world. Arnold was hopeful, but at the back of his mind a nagging thought persisted. "If it seems too good to be true…"
Within a week Arnold and Buster were installed at Oudelands. They had a room overlooking the woods at the back of main building and Buster spent his days lounging on top of a cushioned bench window seat. From his lofty vantage point he could observe the squirrels and other wildlife darting in and out of the woods. He'd settled in well and soon became a favourite with the residents, allowing them to tickle his belly and scratch his ears. Though he was happy with the many elderly guests he still seemed wary of the staff, wrinkling his nose and bearing his teeth when one of them came near. Arnold hoped he'd settle down once he grew used to them.
The days passed uneventfully and Arnold and Buster enjoyed the comfort of their new home. Arnold took his afternoon walks in the wood accompanied by a carer and Buster scampered ahead digging and sniffing in the undergrowth. Arnold tried to learn chess so he could join in with some of the residents, but they seemed so experienced he knew he'd never be able to keep up. Even watching them do a large-scale jigsaw astounded him. No sooner had they started one jigsaw than they were unpacking another. At times he felt like the odd one out.
There were various weekly visitations from the outside world. A lady brought books in for the residents; she worked for the WI and had a side line in tasty jam sponges that Arnold had a craving for. Another women arrived in a smart little van with the slogan "WARPAINT" written on its side. Arnold had watched as she unloaded box after box of make-up and had wondered where it all went. He'd never known old ladies to be that keen on cosmetics. But as his wife had died tragically young, he realised he knew very little about that side of growing old. He never saw a doctor, but Miss Davenport had told him there was one on call when he first arrived.
He made a friend of Becky, a young girl with a warm smile and a cheery nature who came once a fortnight to look after the resident's nails and feet. Arnold enjoyed talking to her. They chatted about family and pets. Buster warmed to her and enjoyed it when she tickled behind his ears. She finished up filing his nails and started to pack up her things. She dropped her voice. "You seem different to the rest of them." He looked at her. "Well I'm hopeless at chess if that's what you mean?" She shook her head. "No, I mean, everyone else is a bit distant. I work in all of the local residential homes and none of them are like this one." Arnold nodded. They're all perfectly pleasant, but they tend to keep to their groups." Becky closed her box of instruments. "How did you get in here anyway?"
Arnold looked around. "I was offered a place as long as I gave them feedback on the home each week." "You don't have to pay?" He could see Becky was surprised. "No, I keep waiting for someone to tell me it's all some sort of mistake, but so far so good." Becky stood up. "Well I'm glad you got in here, from what you were telling me things were getting difficult." Arnold nodded. "Yes, we didn't think we'd find one local that we could afford."
Becky saw Miss Davenport approaching. "Okay, well, I'd better be off. See you in a few weeks." And with that she was gone. Miss Davenport came over to him. "Everything alright?" Her unlined face smiled down at him, eyes the palest of blue stared at him unwaveringly. Arnold often thought she'd make a very good street mime, the kind that remained motionless for hours. "Oh yes, she does a very good job." Miss Davenport looked at Becky's retreating back as she headed towards the doors that led out to the car park. "Yes, she's very…" She seemed to search for the word. "Efficient." Buster rolled back his gums revealing his sharp teeth. Arnold stroked him and held him by the collar. Tried to cover the low growl that came from between his lips. "So how are you settling in?"
Arnold looked into her unblinking eyes. "Very well thank you. Everything's fine. My room's perfect and Buster seems to like it here." Miss Davenport gave a tight smile. "Well that's good. We should have a talk about helping you with your memory and your knee. We have a lot of specialist treatments at Oudelands that could be beneficial." Arnold had always wanted to see what they did on the treatment floor at the top of the main building. He'd asked a few of the residents but no one seemed to know. Or if they did, they weren't telling him.
He rubbed at the nagging pain in his leg. "Well if you think there's something you could do?" Miss Davenport nodded. "Well I'm sure we can make things a lot better. And then you'd be able to take Buster for longer walks." She reached out to pat Buster on the head. But Buster squirmed out of his grasp and to Arnold's horror sank his teeth into Miss Davenport's ankle.
"Oh my God! What did she do?" Arnold and his daughter sat at the far end of the dining room on a sofa surrounded by chairs that formed a small lounge for the residents. Lunch was over and the staff busied themselves setting up the tables for afternoon tea. She looked at him in dismay. If Buster had to leave she didn't think her father would be able to cope. But Arnold shook his head. "Nothing. She didn't seem to notice. Buster just let go. There wasn't a mark on her." Sue frowned. "That's not possible." She looked around. Oudelands House hummed with efficiency and as always was spotless, yet she'd never seen anyone cleaning.
Arnold told her they must be doing all the cleaning at night. "What with? Surely you'd hear them hoovering." Arnold shrugged. "I've never even seen a hoover. Maybe they just sweep up." They saw Miss Davenport pass the open doors to the dining room. She nodded and disappeared down the corridor. "I swear that women doesn't walk she glides." One of the staff appeared with a tray and dispensed cups of tea. Sue thanked her and then they were left alone.
"She's suggested some form of treatment for my memory, and my knee." Sue held his hand. "That would be good, but I didn't think there was anything they could do." Arnold looked around. "Well they must be able to do something, just look at these people." Sue studied the residents in the lounge area. A white haired lady was quietly filling in a Sudoku in the paper, barely pausing to lift the pencil from the page, she was finished in seconds. Across from her two elderly men were playing chess, making decisive moves seemingly without much thought at all. "Maybe they don't have anyone else with dementia?" Arnold leaned forwards.
"Doesn't it seem a bit odd that they gave me a free place provided I give them a weekly report of how I see things in the home?" Sue looked at him. "I er, well…" Arnold gave a short laugh. "I mean I'm lucky if I can remember what I had for breakfast." Sue pushed her hair back over one ear. Chewed on her lip like she'd done since she was a child whenever she was thinking hard. "That is a bit weird, but if they're happy to foot the bill, and you're happy I don't suppose we should worry too much about it." Arnold patted Buster. "Well, Buster's happy and it's time for his walk. "Sue kissed him and stood up. "I'll pop in tomorrow, let me know how the treatment goes." He watched her as she went. He couldn't for the life of him remember what treatment she was talking about.
He wasn't sure what it was that woke him up. One minute he was sound asleep, the next he was sitting bolt upright in bed. Buster shook himself and padded over to give his hand a reassuring lick. He listened. It was quiet. But there was something. A low vibration, like a piece of distant machinery. Maybe they were hoovering at night after all. He gave Buster a new chew to keep him busy and slipped into his dressing gown. He opened the door leading into the corridor and looked out. Deserted. The low energy lights flickered on as he slipped down towards the stairway that lead upstairs. A dim slit of light leaked beneath a door to one of the rooms on the top floor. The low hum stopped. He crept up the stairs. He came to a door marked "Engineering". He'd passed it many times before and had assumed it was something to do with the lifts. He never used the lifts if he could help it. He'd had a nasty experience in a hotel once when he got stuck in a lift for hours during a power cut. Besides, the more exercise he took, the better he felt. He grasped the door handle and eased it open. He fumbled for a light switch, but there wasn't one.
The moon was out and enough light came through the windows for him to make out some vague shapes. As his eyes adjusted he realised what he was looking at. The upright shapes were people. Standing motionless in the dark. They stood in neat rows. It was terrifying, and for a moment he thought it must just be another of his weird dreams. But then he noticed something they all shared in common. A small winking red light on each of their wrists…like they were charging.
He turned to leave, every fibre of his being urging him to run. "Good evening Mr. Tramper."
Miss Davenport detached herself from amongst the standing shapes and moved towards him. Arnold swallowed. "Er, sorry, I was looking for…" He trailed off. What he was looking for now was a way out from this nightmare. The lights in the room automatically faded up to half power and he realised who the people were. They were the staff of Oudelands…only they weren't people, they were… Miss Davenport read his mind. "Yes, we're artificial, but that is a necessity considering who we're caring for." Miss Davenport ushered him to a chair. "You'd better take a seat, this must be a bit of a shock for you."
Arnold swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry, as he sank into an armchair in the corner of the room. "I don't understand." He realised how weak that sounded. The level of his not understanding was off the scale. Miss Davenport smiled. In the quiet of the night he was aware for the first time of the faintest of hums as she came up to him. "You must have been wondering why you were chosen to come to Oudelands?" Arnold could only nod, his voice seemed to have deserted him.
She continued. "For thousands of years humankind has existed alongside other life forms on Earth." Arnold was suddenly jolted by a memory, the documentary that had been playing on the TV when he arrived. Something about Aztecs and ancient alien beings. Miss Davenport looked at him, like she could read his thoughts. "Yes. They've taken every precaution not to be seen, though there have been some close calls."
Arnold nodded. "UFO's, little green men…" She smiled again. "Yes, though the colour is something we can't do anything about. It's just something that happens when they get…" Arnold finished her sentence with a clarity that shocked him. "Old…" Miss Davenport smiled. "Yes." Arnold thought of the boxes of makeup he'd seen unloaded every week. No wonder they'd needed so much. It wasn't makeup, it was cover up.
As he listened in stunned silence Miss Davenport brought him up to speed. Oudelands House was very different to other care homes. The main difference was it wasn't for humans. The sentient beings we'd unwittingly shared our planet with were almost immortal, but after thousands of years the original members of the landing party were starting to get old.
Not as old as humans, but old enough that they couldn't risk the strange side effects that manifested from them as they began to change. Arnold listened. It was all starting to make sense. The cleanliness, the flashes of light from the treatment room and the level of intelligence within the residents. Even after thousands of years they were light years ahead in I.Q compared to humans. Having robots to look after them made perfect sense, but even though they had lived amongst us for hundreds of years they still needed someone to make sure they didn't give themselves away at the end of their lives…some kind of early warning system to prevent any suspicious behaviour. After all they still had to interact with the normal population.
What better way than to have their own smoke alarm so to speak. "A token human being." Arnold smiled. He was their monitor. If he noticed anything odd about the residents they would know to alter their behaviour. It was the perfect arrangement. Miss Davenport looked at Arnold, her head cocked on one side. Probably a mannerism she'd noted and mirrored for effect Arnold thought. "So how are we doing?" Arnold shook his head. "Until I stuck my nose in I guess you were doing fine."
Miss Davenport gave one of her tight smiles. Arnold swore he could hear the clicking of solenoids. As an engineer he realised he was always listening for the first signs of a mechanical problem. But then his hearing wasn't great anymore and he could easily have imagined it. "Well then I suppose the next step is up to you.
Sue came bustling in with a shopping bag full of little surprises. A hide chew for Buster. The weekend papers and some snacks for him, as well as a few things he'd asked her to bring in. Buster got straight into his chew. Arnold stood up and walked over to the lady serving teas. He took the cups and some slices of cake and trotted back to place them on the table net to Sue. She looked at him wide-eyed. "What happened to you?" He paused, then realised what she was talking about. "They have some pretty good treatments here." Sue shook her head in bewilderment. "They must have. You've had five operations on that knee, and none of them worked." He shrugged, picked the Sudoku book out of her bag and thumbed through it. Sue smiled. "You'd better put a good word in for me with that Miss Davenport next time you see her.
None of us is getting any younger and I could do with staying in a care home full of miracle workers. Mrs Riley across from you will be green with envy when she sees you jogging around while she's still using her Zimmer to get about." Arnold smiled as he flicked through the Sudoku book. That should keep me going till teatime he thought. He wondered if the slight hum from his knee had been audible as he trotted back from the tea trolley. He'd have to get them to check on that during his next treatment.


text:
Stuart Zaro
Driven Deep
June 11 - June 21
Artist Statement
For me, photography should do more than simply record. It should tell a more intricate story than what is apparent on the surface. My current project, Driven Deep, has been an ongoing photographic journey that expresses my interest in looking more deeply into human nature, and enabling a viewer to connect to the stories behind every day occurrences.
Driven Deep revolves around moments encountered in mundane settings—in a train station, at a carnival, on a busy Manhattan sidewalk, or at a lake at dusk. Each photograph conveys its own distinct narrative, always tethered to an emotional chord.
My interest in the inner landscape sometimes manifests as surrealistic photographs in which irrational juxtapositions occur: In a happenstance reflection that looks as though a ghost is gazing pensively at a man. In the discordance of a plainly-dressed woman at the front of a line of identically adorned would-be beauty pageants. In the sadness of a smiling clown paralyzed in the midst of circus hubbub.
These juxtapositions are everywhere – it only takes an awareness to recognize when they are unfolding. I strive to capture these moments and to always to express them with a sense of respect – sometimes even with a sense of humor.


text:
Mothers of Pakistan is a wonderful initiative taken by Dalda Pakistan. Unlike a one time communication, Dalda created a platform where Mothers of Pakistan are celebrated throughout the year for their love and sacrifices. For the very reason, the community was formed before Mother's Day (which fell on 8th May this year).
A lot of people came forward and shared their messages for their mothers and for all the mothers around the country. This was done in multiple ways. Many people sent it their picture with their moms along with a text message. Some people shared a message through a video.
Along with the usual text and video messages, Dalda shared a number where people called and get their messages recorded for their mothers. Such beautiful OOH was spotted throughout 8 different cities of Pakistan especially in the metros (Karachi, Lahore & Islamabad). There were radio ads, digital engagements and one surprising element was TV. Yes, some of the messages were featured on TV. I am pretty sure people must have been surprised looking at themselves like that.
Dalda joined hands with TCS Sentiments for giveaways. Some of the lucky participants won gift baskets for their Mothers as well. I think this was a sweet gesture from Mothers of Pakistan, Dalda & TCS to celebrate the struggle and never ending love of our Mothers for us. We cannot ever thank them enough but it's always good to make somebody's day like that. Even I participated and made a video for my mom. She actually got teary eyed and hugged me 🙂
Needless to say, this is one of my favorite campaigns of the year. For the focus is on building strong connection and not just selling your brand. Dalda truly believes on the tagline "Jahaan Mamta.. Wahaan Dalda". Good work team!
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ICLEI - Local Governments for Sustainability USA Lays Down a Marker for City Leadership with Nonprofit Change the Pallet
Recently published ICLEI article states cardboard shipping pallets could play a major role in helping cities meet their carbon reduction targets.
Portland, Oregon, April 27, 2017 – ICLEI - Local Governments for Sustainability USA published an article late last week, titled "Change the Pallet: Procurement Specs Reduce Emission," which calls on cities and local governments to leverage procurement dollars to mandate that shipments to public facilities be made on lightweight, 100% recyclable corrugated shipping pallets. Such mandates are indicated based on the proven reductions to: (i) carbon emissions; (ii) trucks on the road; and (iii) pallet-related injuries.
The article was co-authored by Change the Pallet – in partnership with sustainability expert, Mr. Roger Ballentine. Mr. Ballentine served President Clinton as Chairman of the White House Climate Change Task Force and Deputy Assistant to the President for Environmental Initiatives. He now advises many Fortune 500 affairs on cutting-edge sustainability actions.
ICLEI is a membership association for local governments worldwide that share a commitment to accelerate game-changing sustainability and carbon-reduction programs. They are the first major environmental policy organization in the world to put its name behind the Change the Pallet "bid spec" movement, which is significant because of ICLEI's leadership in working with cities worldwide to reach their carbon-reduction targets. Put simply: when ICLEI talks, local governments listen. Since publication of the article, Change the Pallet has been asked by several cities to provide sample policies for evaluation.
The average wood shipping pallet weighs between 50 and 70 pounds and has limited size options, making it difficult to maximize truck-bed volume. Conversely, corrugated pallets weigh about 10 pounds and can be cost-effectively customized to maximize space on a truck, thereby reducing fuel and trucks on the road.
"There are reasons why our packages don't come to us in wood crates anymore," says Adam Pener, Executive Director at Change the Pallet. "And just as there are more efficient and environmentally-friendly alternatives to the wood crate, so too are there alternatives for the billions of wood pallets currently in circulation in the United States. We look forward to seeing ICLEI's initiative lead to city-driven change to our country's antiquated, costly, and highly destructive product transit system."
Change the Pallet is a project of The Forward Edge Initiative, an Oregon-based nonprofit. They educate and advocate for a national shift from wood to corrugated pallets, with the goal of protecting American workers, eliminating shipping pounds, reducing carbon emissions massively, and saving consumers and taxpayers billions of dollars. Change the Pallet made global news last year when the World Bank's prestigious Connect4Climate named them a "Knowledgeable Partner," and published an article titled "Change Pallets for Climate Change."


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|29 May 2010
Monitor goes into sleep mode when set to never
All settings are set to never allow the monitor to go into sleep mode but it does. I am quite sure it is the computer that is doing it as I can move the mouse and it comes back on.I think there are settings in the bios that need to be changed, but i don't know which ones. I have an Phoenix Award bios. Any help would be appreciated. Stream.
|My System Specs
|29 May 2010
Windows 7
I personally know several models of monitors have their own sleep mode. I would do this as a prank since they also had a mode where the monitors would turn off at a certain time of the day.
|My System Specs
|29 May 2010
surfasb, I have set all controls on the OSD to off. Thanks stream.
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I would like my monitor to stay on all the time. I have set all the area's that I can find to leave the monitor on in W7. But after 15mins. the monitor will turn off. Is there a area that I might have missed? Thanks!
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When Windows 7 puts my PC into the sleep mode & my Acer LCD monitor goes black, is the monitor actually powering down the lamps or is the PC just not sending it a signal to display?
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I have the monitor set to never go into sleep mode in power options, but it still shuts off after about 10 minutes. I would appreciate any help. Thank you.
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Organizations that are not yet incorporated or not yet providing direct services to seniors can join as a Developing Organization and receive all the benefits of membership with the exception of voting privileges.
The 2019 membership fee is a flat rate of $830 per year for developing long term care homes and $175 per year for developing housing.
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