The gist: A meteorite slammed into what's now Oklahoma hundreds of millions of years ago. Scientists thought the impact happened around 467 million years ago.

Tiny crystals buried inside the crater are now telling a very different story.

Researchers dated zircon crystals from the Ames impact structure and found evidence pointing to an impact around 370 million years ago, making the crater nearly 100 million years younger than previously thought.

The old estimate was based partly on fossils found in material around the crater. The newer work suggests those fossils may have already been ancient when the meteorite hit and were simply mixed into the debris.

Why it matters: Moving an impact by almost 100 million years puts it in a completely different chapter of Earth's history. The new date places it near the Late Devonian, a period associated with major extinction events, although the researchers are not claiming this meteor caused them.

Go deeper: University of Texas at Austin: Meteor hit Oklahoma 100 million years later than previously thought

The gist: Stare at something moving for long enough and then look at something stationary, and your brain can play a small trick on you: the stationary object can appear slightly displaced in the opposite direction.

It's a visual illusion known as a motion aftereffect.

Researchers at York University used it to compare biological vision with current AI vision systems. They found a corresponding change in the primate visual cortex, while the AI models they tested didn't reproduce the same history-dependent effect.

In other words, our visual system doesn't process every image completely independently. What you just saw can affect what you see next.

Why it matters: AI vision systems are already extremely good at recognizing and locating objects. But being accurate isn't necessarily the same thing as seeing the way a biological brain does.

Researchers think studying the strange mistakes our own visual systems make can reveal computations that current AI models are missing, and potentially help scientists build systems that process visual information more like we do.

Go deeper: York University: Visual illusion reveals what today's AI vision is missing

The gist: Sewing, crochet, upcycling and other old-school crafts are having a very online revival.

TikTok says videos using #CraftTok increased 60% globally over the past year, while #SewingTok videos rose 90%. Pinterest has also reported big increases in searches for things like thrift flips, sashiko and crochet upcycling.

There's an interesting contradiction underneath the trend. Research commissioned by Levi's found that Gen Z was the least likely generation to know basic clothing-repair skills, while also being the most interested in learning them.

Levi's has now expanded its Wear Longer Project into Europe, offering lessons and workshops on basics like sewing buttons, patching holes and repairing hems.

Why it matters: For years, cheap clothing made replacing something easier than repairing it. Now a generation raised on fast fashion and screens is showing renewed interest in skills that used to be ordinary household knowledge.

There's also something interesting happening culturally: the more digital everyday life becomes, the more appealing very physical, imperfect hobbies seem to become.

Go deeper: Vogue Business: Customers are crafting more. Should brands get involved?

Fortuitous for-TOO-uh-tus | adjective

Definition: Happening by chance, especially in a way that produces a fortunate result.

In a sentence: Running into her old colleague at the airport turned out to be fortuitous. He introduced her to the person who eventually hired her.

Why it’s worth knowing: Lucky describes the good outcome. Fortuitous is especially useful when chance itself created the opportunity. A random meeting, unexpected detour or perfectly timed introduction can all be fortuitous.

Not an actual one.

Whenever you want something that requires someone else to say yes, ask yourself:

Have I actually given them the opportunity to say yes?

Want an introduction? Ask.

Would love a reservation that's fully booked? Call anyway.

Interested in a job that isn't advertised? Send the email.

Want to attend something you're not invited to? Ask whether there's room.

We're surprisingly good at rejecting ourselves on other people's behalf.

The move isn't assuming you'll get a yes. It's making sure a no actually comes from them.

COPY AND PASTE:

I'm trying to [describe what you want to accomplish].

Here's what I've already tried: [list].

Based on my goal, give me 10 opportunities, people, places or approaches I may not have considered. Prioritize options that require relatively little downside to try but could create an unexpectedly useful connection or outcome.

Don't give me generic advice like “network more” or “work harder.” Make each suggestion specific enough that I could actually act on it this week.

One thing you didn’t know you wanted to know.

Researchers studying professional soccer found a clever way to separate performance from luck.

They looked at shots that hit a goalpost. Some bounced into the goal. Others bounced out.

That tiny difference can be substantially influenced by chance, making the shots useful for comparing what happens after nearly identical attempts produce different outcomes.

Players whose shots happened to result in goals subsequently received better performance ratings from journalists and were more likely to start their next match, even though the researchers found no evidence that scoring that lucky goal predicted better performance afterward.

In other words, we don't just reward good performance. Sometimes we reward the lucky outcome and then mistake it for evidence of ability.

Which raises an uncomfortable question: how often do we look at someone else's success and assume the result tells us exactly how good they are?

Go deeper: MIT Press: Fooled by Performance Randomness: Overrewarding Luck