Doritos

Vote for one of the five finalists in the Doritos Superbowl ad contest.

It’s a huge trend to get regular people to make commercials and all that viral stuff. IMHO, it’s getting a little old. But this spot? This was made by a couple kids for under $13. Really. And it’s good. Check it out. AND VOTE.

This is Fred.

Photo credit to RS.

Fred is one of the dancers from The Wild Zappers Deaf Dance Theater Company. They performed at the kids’ school the other day. They showed us the relationships between dance movements, counting and visual cues, talked about feeling the music, and gave a fun introduction to sign language. And man did they get everyone moving! We laughed, danced…even signed to the song I Believe I Can Fly. (My guys liked it so much that they ‘performed’ at the dinner table that night.)

So today I was talking to a friend about work and direction and choices. So many have jobs that they don’t like; jobs that are drudgery to them. Jobs that force them to make choices that are not comfortable or take energy away from the things in life that really matter.

And then there are the lucky ones. You know who you are. You with a passion for what you do. You who molded your work around your passion. You who love what you do. Who love your lives.

Like Fred. Who believes he can fly.

Do you believe?

TV ESP

I know you’re going to think I’m a crackpot, but here goes.

I have television ESP. Okay, let me back up a second…

I have a terrific memory. When we sit down to watch a show, CSI or Cold Case or whatever, I can tell in the first couple seconds if I’ve seen it before. Andrew? He lags behind. Often, he’ll argue with me about it. I sometimes humor him. But I know if I’ve seen it before.

Except every once in a while….

There are times when I swear I’ve seen an episode before. It’s more than a little deja vu. It’s serious! I know what will happen. I recognize all the dialogue. I really, really, really know I’ve seen it before.

Usually when this happens, Andrew jumps up and goes online (there’s a computer in the room, of course…) to see when the episode first aired. For example, the How I Met Your Mother that aired this week originally aired on October 2, 2006.

Sometimes, he sits back down sheepishly and admits it’s been on before. But sometimes, he finds that it is, in fact, the original air date. (insert spooky sound here)

Now how could that be? Are my dreams being fed by the networks? Do the networks have some higher purpose for me? Is there a special meaning I should find in this superpower? Am I TVGIRL?

Stay tuned.

Some girls get all the breaks.

51% of Women Are Now Living Without Spouse

For what experts say is probably the first time, more American women are living without a husband than with one, according to a New York Times analysis.

Hey Andrew, I’m just kidding. I’d be lost without you. Well, maybe not lost. Maybe just….

I came across this in my research – in a presentation about Millennials. I just had to share….

Generation gap.

I’m working on a research project dealing with generations. Millennials, Gen X, Echo Boomers… I love this stuff.

There’s no school today – MLK – and Reed has a birthday party. I dropped him at a friend’s house to catch a ride. Meantime, it’s 64 degrees out already. So in the car, all alone, I opened the windows and put on my favorite radio station (rather than the one I listen to with the kids), turned the volume up and this Neil Young song came on:

“Old Man” (links to video – youtube isn’t ready for the New Blogger yet. ugh!)

Old man look at my life,
I’m a lot like you were.
Old man look at my life,
I’m a lot like you were.

Old man look at my life,
Twenty four
and there’s so much more
Live alone in a paradise
That makes me think of two.

Love lost, such a cost,
Give me things
that don’t get lost.
Like a coin that won’t get tossed
Rolling home to you.

Old man take a look at my life
I’m a lot like you
I need someone to love me
the whole day through
Ah, one look in my eyes
and you can tell that’s true.

Lullabies, look in your eyes,
Run around the same old town.
Doesn’t mean that much to me
To mean that much to you.

I’ve been first and last
Look at how the time goes past.
But I’m all alone at last.
Rolling home to you.

Old man take a look at my life
I’m a lot like you
I need someone to love me
the whole day through
Ah, one look in my eyes
and you can tell that’s true.

Old man look at my life,
I’m a lot like you were.
Old man look at my life,
I’m a lot like you were.

I’m reading about what makes the young ‘uns different. They have different technology, they multitask like whoknowswhat, they have different expectations. But are they really different? Probably not in the things that really matter. But they won’t know it until they get to my age.

Just like I didn’t.

Nerd porn.

From Natalie Dee. Some of her comics made soda come out of my nose.

Chuckle of the day.

Came across this at Toothpaste for Dinner. Cracked me up.

What not to wear.

I admit it – I’m a bit obsessed. There are 11 episodes of What Not To Wear on my DVR. I didn’t record them. I swear! Andrew did. You know how you can set it to record a show no matter when it comes on?

Anyway, I’ve been watching so much of Stacy and Clinton that I actually think about them. I know, it’s nuts. But when I’m picking out my clothes for the day, I wonder if they’d approve. I know they usually wouldn’t. Levi’s and sweatshirts or big pullover sweaters don’t seem to be much to their liking.

The other day I went to DSW. I went because when I put on my nice 7 jeans, I didn’t have shoes that Stacy would like. Sure I have some great boots, but I needed a more casual look. My choices were Rocketdog fuzzy clogs, sneakers, or grey wool clogs. Nothing that looked like a grown up would wear.

So I bought these shoes. I really like them. Even if they do look like something my mother would wear. (Mom, I know that sounds bad. I don’t mean it that way!)

So I admit, the shoes look great. And I even admit (but grudgingly) that if I take an extra couple minutes and put together something just a tad nicer, add a necklace or pair of earrings and a touch of mascara, that I do feel better. I hate that I do. It seems crazy that I do. But.

I do.

I don’t consider myself particularly insecure. Somewhat, sometimes. But really confident in some areas. And I never thought that I gave a hoot what anyone thought of how I looked – assuming I felt good about it. (This allows some wiggle room for those times that I pull a trench over my pjs and pull my hair into a ponytail, put on sunglasses and drive through Dunkin Donuts on Sunday morning. I totally would care if someone saw me like that.) But I digress.

I’ve never much cared for primpy types. For women who are always applying lipstick. And I always wondered about the mothers hanging around the elementary school who dress up every day. Nice slacks, sweater, you know the put-together moms. Sometimes, they even have skirts. They always wear heels and jewelry and makeup. They’d never show up to bring the violin the kid left home the way I have in the past. I’d describe it, but I’m afraid that it would be just a little to vivid for some of you. And I don’t want to hear your shit.

But now that I’ve added a little spruce to my morning routine, I’m afraid I’ve misjudged those dressy-up women. I always thought they were doing it to impress me. And now I realize it’s not about that. (Well, maybe for some of them it is.)

I don’t totally know what it is about. But I’m starting to think that maybe clothes really do make the man.**

**I don’t really think I think that. I think I had to write it down to see how it felt. This discussion is so not over.

Editing.

It’s really hard to edit your own work. I don’t mean a blog. No one is going to pick at my grammar here. (Or are you? Hmmm…) I mean an article for publication. Or a research paper. It’s very hard.

Today, I was talking to a friend who had a hundred page program to put together. She got someone to do it on a volunteer basis (it is for a community event) and when she turned it in, it not only didn’t look as professional as was expected but it had errors. Lots and lots of errors. In fact, my friend got a proofreader on the job and she found over 200 mistakes. Yikes.

I don’t know that I’ve turned in anything with 200 mistakes lately, but I did have a typo in my most recent newsletter. Horrifying. And I’m working on an article now that I’ve picked up, edited, put down, picked up, edited, put down and I still don’t know if it’s right. Oh, the pressure.

Which leads me to my deep thought of the day.

Do we, as a society, over-think too many things? I’m not talking about world peace here. I’m talking about day to day life. Yes, I know that I obsess about some things. Okay, lots of things. Stop it. I know! But I make many decisions on the spur of the moment and I think often my first instinct is right. Go for it. Live life. Enjoy.

If we edit the thoughts, think it through, might we make better decisions?

Maybe.

But how much fun and joy of living will we miss?