Hard not to notice the changes going on around here.

Today, Garret over at Orange Element wrote about the new logo for the London Olympics. Hand it to Garret for always making people stop and think about design.

Anyway, it started a conversation with a colleague of mine. I’ll call him Henry, since I’m sure he would not appreciate me telling you who he is after you finish reading this.

So Henry asked me what I thought of the logo. I told him what I wrote on the Orange-Blog…

I agree that most people don’t realize the brand audit, team building, strategy that goes into the process. On the other hand, $800K is steep (though I’ve seen clients who paid more for less). I don’t personally care for the logo – think it’s hard to get a read on what it is (I had to look a few times) but that’s not important. What I do wonder is who is the target audience for the Olympics? If it’s hip, 20-somethings it might be right on. I, however, think the audience is quite a bit broader, older, and more conservative and wonder if it’s on track. Just my 2 cents.

And I pointed him to the other commenters – who had some interesting things to say.

Henry told me that he saw something sexual in the logo. I went back and looked and, you know what? I saw it too.

I told Henry that I didn’t think the logo was a quick read. I didn’t see the 2012 right away.

And Henry’s response?

There’s a 2012 in the logo? Where?

I rest my case.

If you don’t know what Spanx are, they’re like modern girdles. I own one. Yup, I admit it. But every time (twice?) that I wore it, I ended up taking it off and sticking it in my purse so I could eat and breathe. I’m sorry, folks. Sometimes, you just have to make a choice. A little waffle-butt or starvation and misery.

But I digress.

I decided to put this true confession out there because I saw that Gnightgirl posted a great video that she found on Fighting Mad Mary’s that she found on GloZell’s. That’s whose it is, by the way. GloZell’s.

Anyway, it’s hysterical.

And I may not have posted this, but Fighting Mad Mary commented on Gnightgirl’s blog that it’d be funny if someone followed the line of this. So maybe someone will post that I posted this and that I got it from Gnightgirl who got it from Fighting Mad Mary who got it from GloZell.

Hey, it could happen.

It’s that time of year again. Packing lunch time of year. It’s when I realize 3 kids is a lot. When a loaf of bread lasts 3 days. Tops. When a huge Costco size container of grapes is gone in a flash.

I pack yogurt and granola bars and try to find lots of healthy things like the Cabot Cheese 50% lunch sized packs. (You know I love Cabot!) And of course, I always include something for dessert.

But every day?

Yes, every day I have this lunch-making assembly line routine. And I hate it.

I just wish my kids would buy lunch from the cafeteria. I mean, really. Who wouldn’t kill for Salisbury Steak?

The construction team stopped us. So there we sat on the windy, woodsy road waiting. And waiting and waiting and waiting. And then I noticed the huge boom connected to the tree.

It swayed the tree back and forth.

The tree started to fall. And then it stopped.

And it swayed. And stopped.

And then, almost in slow motion, it fell.

I sat there in my car with the windows open.

And I’m here to tell you that if a tree falls in a forest, it makes a huge sound.

Thump.

Flashes aside, I felt really hot today. You see, I went to a 55+ community.

I was teaching a colleague of mine (from a non-profit Board that I serve on) how to update the website. I put the site up and maintenance had been my job for several years along with email communications and more. This kind soul offered to take it on. If I would teach her how.

She was a good student. I feel confident that she’ll do a great job.

But I’m off topic again. Sorry.

This post is about walking through that community. The parking there is a nightmare. It’s a beautiful new community. I find it shocking that there are so few visitor parking spaces. Don’t these people get company? I know they do! But where the heck do they park?

In my case, the answer is 1/4 mile away. Maybe I’m exaggerating a little. But I did walk and walk and walk.

And everywhere I went, I got stares from the men. This was mid-day. Don’t these people work? Oh, right, guess not. So the old guys gave me the once or twice or thrice over. The old guys at the pool. The old guys fidgeting with their cars. The old guys hanging out talking to other old guys.

I have to admit, it gave me a little extra spring in my step and a smile on my face.

Flattery is flattery. Even from a bunch of old men.

I had dinner with friends tonight.

Should I have peeled myself away from my mounds of work and gone? Probably not. But I did. And I had a lovely Cuban meal, lots of laughs, and a great mojito.

And somehow, the story of my high school boyfriend came up. He was extremely cute. Tall. Maybe 6’2″ or so. And broad. He was a football player at a local prep school. Oh, and he was on the lacrosse team and the wrestling team, too. If only his academics were quite so….

But I digress.

I really liked him. And he wasn’t a half bad kisser, either.

When I went 3 hours away for college, he stayed back in the D.C. area and got a job. He visited me some weekends. But then, one of his older brothers asked him to come to San Jose to work with him for a bit. He’s be back soon, he said.

We talked on the phone a lot at first. And then less. Do you remember how expensive long distance calls were in the late 70′s?

He was busy. He was adjusting to California life. Yeah, he kind of liked it. Time difference. Busy. You get it.

And then.

I got the invitation.

To his wedding.

Isn’t that a charming way to break up with someone? It’s been 28 years. I certainly don’t wish him badly. But seriously, doesn’t that suck? As if it isn’t hard enough to be 18.

There’s a great house on the market in Pittsfield Maine. If you know anyone who’d be interested, pass it on!

I have always loved this picture. We were at my grandmother, Betsy’s apartment. The sofa was shiny and slippery. She always had M&M’s in a candy dish on the coffee table.

It wasn’t a kid-friendly place really. She had a teacup collection, an ashtray collection from around the world, and other very breakable things. She also had an 8-track player and lots of big band music. I always liked it there. I still can conjure up that distinct smell in my head…

But I digress.

What I was thinking when I saw this photo today was that all my kids are older than my brother, sister and I were in this photo. (If you were guessing that I was thinking about the remarkable resemblance between my mother and Marge Simpson, you’d be wrong.) And I was thinking that Andrew and I are quite a bit older than my parents were here! I thought we were pretty big and pretty grown up that day. I remember it well. But we weren’t.

As my second kid starts middle school, I feel different. I am no longer of mom of young boys. I have medium-sized boys. Teens.

When you have little kids, you see families with kids the size of mine and think you’ll never be there.

I did.

But I’m here.

I’m not saying I don’t like it. I do. It’s just different. They have very distinct thoughts. They know things they didn’t learn from home. Or school. They challenge thoughts and ideas. They are trying out who to be.

It’s exciting and scary.

And quite an adjustment.

The great dairy tour of Aught Eight continues.

I told you a little about the Cabot factory tour. It was really fun. But we also got to tour Molly Brook Farms, an award winning Jersey farm.

The Goodriches, Sally and Walter, and their son Myles, were hospitable beyond compare. They showed us around, told us stories, let us ask questions. And let us show our city-folk nativity.

Oh, and they also gave us huge plastic booties to put over our shoes so the cow poo and mud didn’t ruin them. I thought that was awfully nice of them. Don’t you?

This family is one of the 2,000 that own Cabot Creamery. (Did you know it was a coop? It is!)

Sally told me that she always dreamed of living on a farm. And then, 59 years ago, she met Walter. Kismet. They’ve been married 58 years. Walter, at 80, was quick and funny and charming.

What a cutie! Seeing the calves was great. We even saw one that was born the day before. And stories? We heard about a calf that lived in the house for months and other great tales.

Sally would call out a name and, I swear, that cow would look up. It was crazy. Even my kids don’t respond to their names as well.

This automated device ran the length of the stalls pushing the poop down to a huge slot at the end. It looked kind of like chocolate syrup being pushed along the ground. Only it did not smell like chocolate. Not even close.

The dog was a little needy for attention. Walter told me not to pet him or I’d never rid of him.

All in all? It was wonderful. Yes, they work long, long days. And the work seems hard. And the weather is challenging. And demands are great.

But I walked away thinking it’d be a wonderful life to lead.

But I’d have to give up my shoe collection.

And that’d hurt a bit.