2 comments on Co Workers for the Day
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While attempting to detangle my hair after getting out of the shower one morning over Christmas break, I thought, “My hair’s grown really long. Really, really long. I think it’s time for another donation.”
I began browsing magazines and websites, looking for photos of people with short hair. I found a few pictures that I described as “darling pixie cuts” and printed out the images. On my salon’s website, I booked the first available appointment, Tuesday, January 6. And then I waited.
I told a few people what I was planning to do, and was met with responses ranging from, “Have you ever had short hair before?” to “But your hair is so pretty” to “That’ll look adorable!”
I arrived to the salon a few minutes early. When I told Jaimie what I wanted to do, she squealed. I think hairdressers like doing dramatic things.
She carefully sectioned off one, then two, thick pigtails. She cut through the first one and gauged my reaction. “Oh my god!” Now it was my turn to squeal, delighted. I shook my head, amazed at how light it felt with just one pigtail gone. She positioned the scissors next to the second pigtail. “Wait! Let’s get a picture of this!” And then the second pigtail was in her hands.
I loved the slashes of the unexpected asymmetrical bob. “This is great! Can we leave it like this?” She laughed and said no. After a wash and an hour more of cuts and snips and blow drying and more snips and some shaving, I looked into the mirror and barely recognized myself. The smile was the same, as well as the laugh, but no more long locks. I thought I’d mourn the loss of long hair, but instead I felt light. And sassy. I carefully packaged up the 14” of ponytails to send to Children With Hair Loss, an organization that provides hair replacements at no cost to children who lose their hair because of cancer, Alopecia, burns, Trichotillomania and other rare diseases and disorders. And felt great about the first donation of the year.
Before
So much hair!
One off, one to go!
Sassy bob!
After
Two long pigtails to donate -
For the past several years, I’ve attended the Ecology Project International (EPI) fundraiser. It’s a fun evening where you can sample local wines, meet interesting people, and bid on fabulous prizes. At last year’s fundraiser I was lucky enough to bid on and win a trip to the Galapagos!
EPI is a non-profit organization dedicated to developing place-based, ecological education partnerships between local experts and high school students to address critical conservation issues. If you’re free this Thursday evening, Nov 13, please head to SOMA to attend an evening filled with fun.
When: Thursday, Nov 13, 6: 30 – 9:00 pm
Where: Gallery 16, 501 3rd Street (Corner of Bryant Street), San Francisco, CA
How much: FREE!
More info here -
Today marks the beginning of November, as well as the beginning of Movember. While at our annual company meetup a month or so ago, several co-workers talked about forming a team. I listened. The premise behind Movember is that on November 1, you shave your face, then throughout the month, you grow only a mustache. You raise money for your efforts, and the money funds men’s health initiatives. I’m very thankful to be supported by so many amazing men in my life, and being/keeping healthy (physically and mentally) is of utmost importance to me. I listened to the conversation around me then said, “I’m in. I’ll do it, too.” I got a few surprised looks and a chuckle or two. I continued, “I’m not a man, but I do have a mustache (a faint one, but it’s there), so I’ll refrain from waxing for the month.” And then there were high fives all around. So, if you’d like to learn more about men’s health, head over here and if you’d like to make a donation, please do so here. Thanks!
Nov 1, freshly waxed -
This weekend I volunteered at WordCamp San Francisco and joined over a thousand folks who use WordPress, listening to great talks and meeting fabulous people from all over the world. In Matt Mullenweg’s “State of the Word” he included this slide to thank WordPress contributors. It’s pretty amazing to see how many people contribute to the open source project.
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Act I
I didn’t think it was that serious. I fell while hiking and figured I had sprained my ankle. Rest, ice, compression, and elevation. Repeat. After two weeks I couldn’t flex my foot and each morning I would wake up to find it more swollen than when I went to bed the night before. I went to a doctor, then a specialist. She said, “See how your ankle is moving like that?” I enthusiastically said, “Yes!” for some reason thinking that was a good thing. “It’s not supposed to move like that.” Oh. An MRI and x-ray revealed I had torn all the ligaments in my ankle, as well as chipped part of the cartilage. Surgery was pretty much my only option.I had multiple pre-op appointments and learned that after the surgery I wouldn’t be able to travel for a few weeks. That I should keep my leg elevated to reduce swelling. That I should apply ice, and that I may be nauseous afterwards from the general anesthesia. That I’d be in a cast for approximately six weeks, with three of those on crutches. We talked about the procedure, who would perform it, and what I could expect afterwards. I was feeling pretty optimistic.
Act II
I groggily woke up after the surgery, somewhat disoriented, and finding it difficult to form words. My friend Warren picked me up, drove me home, and explained to my parents (who were in town visiting) all the doctors had shared. I slept.I woke up a few hours later. Oh, my goodness. Doctor, I think you buried the lede. We talked about a lot of things pre-op, but never did you mention “You’re going to be in excruciating pain. For days.”
Maybe this seems like common knowledge, but for someone who has never had real surgery, the kind where they cut you open, it seems like kind of an important detail. Knowing I would be in pain wouldn’t have prevented me from having surgery, but I wouldn’t have questioned my sanity as I woke up every 43 minutes during the night from searing pain, wondering, “Is it normal that I’m about to go Incredible Hulk on this cast and bust out of it?”
Act III
The pain subsided around day five post surgery. Not disappeared, but subsided to the point where I felt somewhat normal again. And grateful. Being on crutches has slowed me down. I notice more details. I’m more deliberate about decisions. I appreciate, more than ever, having a small apartment. I notice so many acts of kindness, both large and small. I love that my parents left homemade chicken soup in the refrigerator before they left. I am appreciative that strangers hold open doors for me and that Uber drivers help me in and out of their cars. I love that friends stop by in the evening, just to say hi. Or to make dinner. Or to do the dishes. It’s lovely to open an email with movie or book recommendations. Or open the door and find an Amazon package there, someone sending well wishes. I look down and smile at the brightly colored scribbles on my cast, artwork by friends’ children. This isn’t so bad after all. -
I love this! Reading stories on the Longreads blog is one of my favorite parts of my day and I’m super excited that member contributions are now going directly to independent writers and publishers. If you enjoy great writing, I encourage you to check it out (and become a member)!
Since 2009, Longreads has thrived as a service and a community thanks to your direct financial support. Without Longreads Members’ contributions, it’s possible we would have had to shut down after just a couple years.
Now, here we are in 2014, with a global community of more than half a million readers. In April, Longreads joined the Automattic / WordPress.com family, which meant that the Longreads Member dues were no longer necessary to keep our four-person team going.
This also meant that we could finally make good on our original intention for the Longreads Membership—which was for 100% of your contributions to go directly to independent publishers and writers.
So that’s what we are announcing today: The Longreads Membership is now a great big digital story fund, financed with your generous support. The more Longreads Members who join, the more contributions we gather, the more stories we’ll help…
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Touring The Rock is one of my favorite tourist attractions in San Francisco (the audio tour is first rate!) but today we were there for a different reason. Artist Ai Weiwei’s exhibit @Large opened last week and I was curious to see it. My parents arrived yesterday – what better way to spend the day than boating out to Alcatraz and enjoying some art? I was particularly intrigued because Weiwei had created the exhibit without ever visiting the space; he isn’t allowed to leave China because of alleged tax evasion; many believe he is grounded because of his outspoken criticism of the Chinese government. As we arrived to the dock, we saw these words from Ai Weiwei:
The misconception of totalitarianism is that freedom can be imprisoned. This is not the case. When you constrain freedom, freedom will take flight and land on a windowsill.
We were greeted by a large, brilliantly colored dragon head, with multiple bright circles following behind as the body. The dragon wove throughout the length of the hall where prisoners once did laundry. The bright swirls of colors mesmerized me – reds, blues, purples, yellows, greens. As I wandered, I noticed a few of the circles had words embedded in the patterns: “Our march to freedom is irreversible,” “…privacy is a function of liberty,” etc. I loved the contrast of the brightness of the dragon’s body and the hope in the words to the drabness of the prison.
Ai Weiwei’s “With Wind” 
Privacy is a function of liberty We continued into a room which showcased over a hundred portraits of people who have been detained because of their beliefs or affiliations. All made of Legos. Tiny, 1×1 or 2×4 Lego blocks. Millions of Legos. Binders identified each portrait, and the reason they were detained.
Ai Weiwei’s “Trace” Next we made our way to the Cellhouse, where we heard the sounds of those detained for their beliefs. Some were familiar – Martin Luther King, Pussy Riot, Fela Kuti; others were not – Ahmad Shamlu, Mahjoub Sharif, Victor Jara. Standing in the tiny cell, listening to the words that landed others in cells similar, an eery feeling crept over me.
We ended our tour in the mess hall, writing postcards to prisoners of conscience all over the world. Weiwei said that it’s easy to feel forgotten in prison – this was a small gesture to let prisoners know their acts weren’t in vain, and they weren’t forgotten.
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A great recap of our all company meetup in Park City, UT, earlier this month. We have a lot of fun when we’re together! 🙂
Automattic is a distributed company — we all work from wherever we are. Right now, “where we are” is 197 cities around the world: New Orleans, USA. Montevideo, Uruguay. Tokyo, Japan. Vilnius, Lithuania.
Once a year, we get together somewhere in the world to meet, work alongside, learn from, and laugh with one another in an exhilarating, exhausting week called the Grand Meetup. This year, 277 Automatticians descended on Park City, Utah, for seven days in mid-September.
We introduced ourselves to new colleagues, reconnected with coworkers we haven’t seen since last year, and worked on ways to make WordPress.com even better. And of course, lots of us blogged about the experience, in words and images.
We were…
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Timmy, a co-worker (and excellent fisherman), organized a fly fishing trip at our all company meetup in Utah last week. I had never been fly fishing. I like rivers. I like fish. I signed up.
The Trout Tales guides picked us up at the hotel on Friday morning. We climbed into their rugged vehicles, ready for adventure. Timmy, who I just met that morning, and I were with our guide Walter. We stopped at a dusty parking lot, donned waders (basically a waterproof overalls/rain boots contraption), and were on our way to another parking lot, even further out. We parked, grabbed our rods, and walked into the brush along the river for about 10 – 15 minutes. We were headed towards a favorite spot of Walter’s. When we got there, we heard him groan. Between the time we parked, and the time we arrived, someone had claimed the spot we were eying. “Wait here,” and he ran ahead.
He came back. “It’s all good. He’s fine with us fishing next to him.”
And with that we waded into the water. I paused. I felt the sensation of the very cold, not quite icy, water rushing around my ankles, my knees, my thighs, as I waded deeper and deeper into the water. I felt my legs cooling down, even though they continued to stay dry. That surprising feeling of reality not matching expectations. I loved it. To our left were mountains covered with trees just starting to turn color, blotches of red scattered amongst the green and yellow. The sky was a baby blue, with perfect fluffy white clouds. I thought to myself, “Even if we don’t catch any fish, it’s already a perfect day.”
Hills Along the River, photo by Jeff Golenski Walter showed me how to cast, let me try, and gave me pointers – not so much wrist, keep my arm straight, aim for a particular spot in the water. He showed me how to watch the little white bobble that would indicate when a fish was nibbling. And how to hook it. Then reel it in.
He turned to talk to Timmy. I saw the bobble dip below the water. I jerked the line and started reeling it in. When I was sure it was a fish and not the current, I hollered, “I think I have a fish.” He came over and coached me on how to reel it in. Elbows up. Let the fish swim and run the line, then reel it in when it’s not struggling. Be patient. Work with the fish.
When the fish was close to us, he scooped it up in a net and gently removed the ittiest, bittiest, tiniest hook from its lip. It was beautiful. A beautiful brown, coppery color, with red dots along its side. I whispered, “Hi, Oscar. Thank you.” Then Walter released it back into the water.
This basically continued the whole day. A few fish got away. Several were large, a few were babies, many were medium sized. All were beautiful. Mostly brown trout, but one glistening whitefish, and one multi-colored, shimmering rainbow trout. Each glimmered in the sun, and stopped struggling as soon as our hands were on them. The goodbyes were my favorite part – putting them back in the river and watching them strongly swim away.
The day ended much too early. I could have stayed out in the river all day, just casting and staring at the mountains, listening to the rush of the water around me. Would I go again? Why, yes. I’m hooked.
First Catch, photo by Timmy Crawford
Brown Trout Up Close, photo by by Jeff Golenski
Timmy with a Huge Catch, photo by Walter Foster
So Much Fun, photo by Timmy Crawford
LoriLoo 