So, I've been doing some more thinking about that Shoe Guy, Blake Mycoskie.

He's the founder of TOMs shoes, where for every pair they sell, they give a pair away to children in need. (I seriously never get tired of seeing his AT&T commercial.) I've been thinking a lot about how I could put into practice this 1-to-1 ratio of giving.

And I ran into something pretty simple just the other day. I had gone shopping with a friend, and I came home with two pairs of shoes, a sweater, and two pairs of pants (we had gone to the big city of Portland to shop, so it was shopping with a purpose!). When I got home and started putting the items away, Blake the Shoe Guy popped into my mind.

And I knew what I could do.

As I put a new pair of shoes into my closet, I found a pair to give away to my local Goodwill store. I did the same with the pants, the sweater, and the other pair of shoes.

I can't keep quiet about it any longer.

Earlier this month, the SciFi Channel officially changed its name to SyFy.

What the...?

According to Dave Howe, channel president, "We made a commitment to grow into a global lifestyle brand....The new name positions us as having our own attitude and personality, which gives us permission to do a broader range of shows."

So, they link together four letters that mean absolutely nothing and still pronounce it "SciFi"? Hard to think that's going to be that effiective in broadening out the market into a global lifestyle brand.

Before, under SciFi, the target market just looked like a bunch of geeks.

Now, the target market looks like a bunch of geeks who can't spell.

Will Farrell's Land of the Lost opened this weekend.

I have a confession to make: I was a huge fan of the original Saturday morning tv's Land of the Lost as a kid. A huge fan.

So huge, in fact, that my friends and I would play Land of the Lost with our Barbies. We'd gather the requisite Barbies (usually two Kens and a Skipper), put them in their Barbie-sized raft (I had a Barbie camping set--complete with blow-up raft, tent, and dune buggy...awesome!), and sing "Plunged them down a thousand feet below!" from the theme song as we pushed the Barbies in their raft over the side of the bed.

I loved growing up in the '70s.

The SciFi channel recently ran a Land of the Lost marathon, where you could once again see the adventures of Marshall, Will, and Holly--and Cha-Ka and the Sleestaks and that dinosaur they befriended whose name I can't remember.

Have you seen the AT&T commercial with the world-traveling Shoe Guy?

He uses his phone (and the killer AT&T worldwide connection) to do business, which for him is selling shoes and giving shoes away. For every pair of shoes his company sells, his company donates a pair to children in need.

Call me a cynic (I'm in marketing--being suspicious of advertising comes with the territory), but I thought AT&T made up this guy and his shoe company. I did give them props for tapping into the zeitgeist with their good-hearted, world-traveling Shoe Guy.

Turns out, though, the scruffy, good-looking Shoe Guy is for real.

His name is Blake Mycoskie and his shoe company is called TOMS (which, I learned, stands for "Tomorrow"). Blake is a world traveler (he had been a contestant on The Amazing Race at one point) who, on his journeys, discovered kids need shoes. So he founded his shoe company on the principle that for every pair they sell, they give a pair away to kids in need.

So, I discovered a few weeks ago that one of my neighbors is putting their garbage in my trashcan.

I happened upon it innocently enough. One Monday morning, before work and before the Sanipac truck came by and picked up our garbage, I took a last trash bag out to my can at the curb. When I opened my trashcan, I noticed (a) my can was full! It had NOT been full when I drug it out to the curb the evening before. And (b) there was a cardboard holder for a Corona six-pack in the top garbage bag (it was a flimsy garbage bag). Now, I enjoy a nice tall one every once in a while, but, first, Corona is not my brewskie of choice and, second, I would have recycled the cardboard!

I thought perhaps it was a fluke, that one of my neighbors had too much garbage for their own can and needed a little help that week. Until I looked the next Monday morning. And again, my can was full and the Corona six-pack cardboard holder was part of the extra garbage.

My friend and I have a saying about science fiction: Dead is not dead.

I wished I had remembered that before I got all tweaked about Derek Reese getting killed off on Terminator: The Sarah Connor Chronicles. Guess who showed up alive and well in last night’s season finale, thanks to a time-traveling John Connor?

Uncle Derek! Yeah!

Not all science fiction abides by the “Dead is not dead” concept, but a lot of it does. Sometimes it’s through time travel (as was the case with Terminator—travel to a time where Derek hadn’t been shot and, voila!, there he is). Sometimes it’s through technology (cloning, Replicator technology, and Cylon technology kept dead characters around on both Atlantis and Battlestar Galactica). Sometimes it’s through powers and forces beyond our human comprehension (I lost track of how many times Daniel Jackson came back from the other side on Stargate: SG-1). And sometimes you don’t know exactly why the dead aren’t dead, but you don’t care—you’re just happy they’re not dead (Lost!).

So, they killed off my favorite character on Friday night on Terminator: The Sarah Connor Chronicles.

I'm going to miss you, Derek Reese!

It happened suddenly. One moment Derek Reese--brother to Kyle Reese, beloved and revered icon in the Terminator saga, and uncle to John Connor, humankind's only hope against the machines of the future--was there; the next moment he wasn't.

Producers, I'm just going to put it plainly: I think you've made a huge mistake.

The show had been fumbling around in its earlygoings, trying to find some emotional grounding in the midst of the time travel, the death and destruction, the relentless pursuit by killer cyborgs. And the emotional pull wasn't coming from where you might hope it would come from--Sarah Connor. Honestly, Sarah Connor has only managed to look crabby throughout the series. I get it--I suppose if I were pursued by killer machines and my son was in constant jeopardy, I'd be crabby too. It might be reality, but it makes for very dull sci fi.

I did something for the very first time the other day.

I saw a new book coming out in hardcover and thought, Boy, if I had a Kindle, I would totally download that one.

What is happening to me?

I work at a publishing house! I love the printed page! I love ink on paper! I love books!

And yet, for that particular book (and if you’re curious, it was Michael J. Fox’s Always Looking Up), I was interested enough in the content to want to read it, but not so interested that I wanted a hardcover that was retailing at $25.99.

And, really, it wasn’t so much the price that was stopping me. It was the thing—the hardcover book. Some days, the thought of accumulating even one more thing wears me out.

But I didn’t vote for Contestant 7!

I had hit the redial on my phone to add another vote last night to American Idol’s Contestant 2 (Go, Chris!), but the recorded voice on the other end thanked me for voting for Contestant 7.

Apparently, the American Idol voting system isn’t infallible.

I don’t even know who Contestant 7 was last night. I wasn’t about to give up Lost for the second hour of American Idol, so I only saw Contestants 1 – 5. I was throwing votes at Contestants 1 and 2 (well, I was trying to throw votes at Contestants 1 and 2)—sorry, Scott, Meghan, and Anoop. You just didn’t do it for me last night.

About halfway through Lost, though, I was wondering if I shouldn’t have just watched American Idol. Lost was an all-right episode—we were getting a lot of holes filled in in the storyline—but it certainly wasn’t one of the more jaw-dropping episodes.

Dear Jimmy Fallon,

Dude, I like you.

I really do.

You (and Tina!) anchoring the newsdesk were the only reason I tuned into SNL during that era. And I don't care what anyone says, Fever Pitch was a cute little movie.

So, when I heard you got the Late Night gig, I was thrilled--thrilled you'd be back on TV making us laugh.

Okay, so at the moment you're a nervous bundle of energy and (just maybe) interviewing celebrities isn't exactly your forte, but I have faith. I have faith because you've honestly made me laugh during your first few broadcasts (not a ton, but some). I love it when you make me laugh.

Stay true to yourself--your ever-laughing, self-deprecating, good-spirited, kind-hearted self--and you'll find your way. I know you will.