My TV is currently streaming "North By Northwest." For the third time. In one day.

It's not that I don't like the Hitchcock classic. It's a great movie. I just don't need to hear the dialogue three times in a row. The first time was when I parked Dad in front of the TV to stay out of my hair while I tried to work in the home office. I checked on him a few times, but he was fast asleep.

The second time was after he woke up and saw the picture of Cary Grant on the airplane, which is the default screen that shows up when the movie is finished. He asked me to play the movie for him. I pointed out that he had just slept through the movie, which he denied emphatically. Fine, let's hit play. No dice, because he claimed it wasn't the movie he wanted to see. He wanted to see the movie where the airplane is bearing down on Cary Grant, darn it. He wanted to see THAT VERY SCENE, and it's hard to find THAT VERY SCENE when you're randomly fast forwarding through a movie. Finally he told me to stop about 30 minutes in, and he watched the rest of the movie from there.

That's great, right? I'm out of the woods, right? No, because he wanted to watch the first 30 minutes again to see how the movie began. I duly started it over, warning him that the baseball game was going to start in 15 minutes and he'd probably want to switch channels. Sadly, the game is under a rain delay. Dad is re-watching the entire movie.

Taking care of your elderly parent is kind of like having a 140-pound toddler dropped off on your front step. The toddler looks like the man you have idolized all your life, but the brain isn't working the way it used to. Like a toddler, he sometimes can't find the right words to express what he's feeling. Like a toddler, he pounds his fist when he's frustrated. Like a toddler, he insists he's not sleepy and then insists he didn't just take a two-hour nap.

But unlike a toddler, you're not going to be able to make forward progress on things like using your words and remembering to finish drinking your milk. Instead, you're on this slippery, horrible, steep slope, where you're watching the person you love slowly lose his cognitive abilities. And you try - you try so hard to fix it. Here Dad, let's do a crossword puzzle. Hey Dad, why don't we take a walk? Dad, make sure you drink your water. It's like chasing after the waves in the ocean - each time one comes up on the sand, you know you're not going to be able to keep it on shore.

And you wonder why age has to be so, so cruel.

Bulletproof, nothing to lose

You’re all singing that Sia song, aren’t you? If that’s painful, by all means start humming the latest Justin Bieber tune.

Why am I talking about bullets? Last week, I sat on the couch and applied for jobs. I know, I’m supposed to be in my organized office wearing work clothes and shoes, but bear with me. As I crafted my cover letters, I opted to use bullet points to highlight the experiences that matched the job requirements. Three of those companies have responded. Now, nobody is knocking at my door with a contract and a pen, but maybe the wheel is slowly starting to turn. Maybe employers like bullet points. Maybe these are the magic bullets I’ve been looking for. Or maybe it’s just a coincidence.

Brainstorm with me. Check out the list of values below. If you were asked which resonates with you and why, what would be your answer? I’ve been asked to do the same, and I’m interested in what others might say:

Inclusivity
Curiosity
Community
Creativity
Partnership

If you have a moment, please drop me a note with your personal thoughts on which value plays an important role in your life. I value your input, and I am looking forward to hearing what you have to say.

Hanging out in the muscle dude section

A month or so ago, Matt won five free personal training sessions at the Monon Center. Matt didn’t particularly need those sessions - the gym is his second home, and he seems to think exercise is a fabulous pastime. Me, on the other hand, could use a jump start. Matt set me up with a trainer, who designed a personal exercise program for me.

A confession - I don’t particularly love the gym. I don’t play well in exercise classes, and I feel uncomfortable when I have to mix up my exercise machine order because someone’s hogging the leg crunch machine. Then my trainer takes it a step further by designing an exercise program that involves spending time in the free weight section of the gym. You know exactly what I’m talking about - it’s the place where mostly guys congregate to lift really big weights. The trainer expects me to venture into that area and work out alongside the muscle dudes. He claims the muscle dudes don’t care that I’m in their section. They’re not going to the locker room and saying, “Hey, did you see that pudgy gray-haired lady in our section?” (If the gym is anything like the job market, they probably don’t even see the gray-haired lady, because age often renders us invisible, I fear.) But, my fear of disappointing the trainer outweighs my fear of the muscle dudes, so I am dutifully hitting the muscle dude side of the gym.

I think I’m hitting the muscle dude portion of my job search. Applying for Linked In jobs isn’t cutting it. According to some amazing people in my network, it’s time to start approaching people directly, giving them my elevator pitch and asking them where I fit in their organization. This is a lot harder than hanging out with the muscle dudes. I’ll take muscle dudes over cold calling anytime.

I’m asking my network to pretend they’re my personal trainer this week. Tell me I can do this. Tell me your personal elevator pitches and how you became comfortable with them. Tell me about the times you took a risk and succeeded. Hold me accountable. I appreciate you.