Last Friday, my dog Lila Belle & I were going to my friends’ house in Brooklyn. She was sitting on my lap in their car, as she’s apt to do, and in holding her, I noticed a growth on her front leg. Since Lila considers herself a(n overgrown, 32 lb.) lap dog, she’s often jumping up on me so I have a pretty good idea of what is (and is not) on her squirmy little dog body. This thing on her leg, this was new. It was big, it was (somewhat) fleshy, and it seemingly came out of nowhere.

I called the vet immediately.

We went in on Monday morning; I was hoping the vet would immediately discount it, as it didn’t seem to hurt Lila at all, but she didn’t. Instead, she ordered a cytology, which she said often comes back inconclusive. If that was the case, we’d have to give her anesthesia and take a biopsy of this thing on her leg. For now, I’d just have to wait; results would come back at some point this week.

So for the last six days, I’ve been in a constant state of concern. “I’m sure it’s nothing,” I’d tell myself, and yet I’ve had this gnawing feeling in the pit of my stomach. I’ve been overly doting on her, feeling guilty that I was at work, that the dog walker was taking her out vs. me, in case – God forbid – there was something more seriously wrong. Lila is only seven, and for the first time, I began to think about her mortality. I’ve lost three cats in the last three years, so the death of a pet is not foreign to me. But Lila? No. Not her. Not now. I can barely even think about her slowing down as she gets older. This is my puppy, this crazy, energetic, sweet, loving, floppy-eared gal. This is my dog. This is my future husband’s dog. This is my future children’s dog. No. She must be ok.

And, she is. The vet just called; I nearly burst into tears when she told me that the results came back and Lila is absolutely fine. It is simply fat cells. There’s really no rhyme nor reason why she has this thing on her paw; I’m supposed to monitor it and if it changes or starts to bother her, we can have it removed. But for now, she’s fine.

Celebratory drinking at lunch is acceptable, right? 

The importance of your kickboxing class

I started working for Google back in the early (read: 2003) days. I started at the now-behemoth (but then, relatively small) company in their Atlanta office; I was the ninth employee there. We were lean, nimble, passionate about our work, and long days were the norm. We were helping build the AdWords business, and took that responsibility seriously (though yes, there was the occasional Razor Scooter accident into the wall, with scars to prove.) It was a great team, with many of us kicking ass, knowing we were doing something exciting and important, though not sure we fully realized the actual scope of it. I’d venture to say that work was, for many of us, our main priority.

It was also during that time that I started taking karate, and soon began teaching a kickboxing course. As an athlete since I was young, I loved being able to not only further my own health but lead a class full of others with the same mindset. The class was on Tuesdays and Thursdays at 6pm. Given the clusterfuckery that was (is) the Atlanta traffic and our office being 12 miles away from downtown (which took 45 mins. at best), I’d leave the office no later than 5pm two days a week. 

This was rare; most people worked late into the evenings, especially since we were on the East Coast and often managed teams on the West, and because the majority of us were single and without families. And though I was a core member of this team – there were only two of us doing a pretty integral and unique role in the office – not once was a word mentioned about my twice-weekly early departure time.

That’s right: I left work at 5pm during one of the largest growth periods at Google, and it was never seen as a detriment. In fact, I repeatedly received accolades from my manager for setting a healthy work-life balance, who said she looked to me as an inspiration.

That has stayed with me through my career. Today, the internet media are abuzz around Sheryl Sandberg’s public admittance that she leaves work at 5:30pm, and true, Sheryl was a key figure at Google during this time. (I never worked for her directly at Google, but our paths did cross many times as we were part of an extended team.) I applaud her for this disclosure, and support it entirely; I also understand the other part of the discussion that she “proves” that she is still working by intentionally sending emails late into the evening and early into the morning. It’s that latter part that I’m concerned about, though begrudgingly agree that it’s the reality. There is a fear that you can look disengaged or appear to be working less hard if you aren’t staying ‘til you’re the one that has to lock up. I hope we start working to change this expectation.

I appreciate the awareness that she – and, more accurately, the Facebook PR team, as we know these placements didn’t come from a one-off comment – is bringing to the issue. It’s something that I’ve intentionally strived for with every job I’ve had since, both in my behaviour, and more importantly, in any employee I’ve worked with. I’d tell them my kickboxing story, and say that I’d expect, at least one day a week, for them to be gone by 5pm. I don’t care if they sit on their couch and eat bonbons, shotgun a few beers or stalk their ex-boyfriend. They’d best be gone from the office, because this is their time. Because the reality is that nobody will give you this time; you have to take it. And as a new employee with any company, your emphasis is on working not just hard, but long; how many times have you been twiddling your thumbs after filling out your paperwork on your first day, waiting for your boss to leave while trying to figure out what you’re supposed to be doing? (Yeah. I’ve been there.) As a manager, we should know to teach by example and provide the ability for our younger, eager employees to also have a work-life balance, in hopes that they will pass it on to their team one day. 

So better limber up, team. If you plan on working with me, you’ve got a kickboxing class in your future.

rickwebb’s tumblrmajig: I’ll talk how I want

rickwebb:

In the past few weeks, I have heard passionate complaints against people who say “um.” People who say “like.” People who say “right?” at the end of their sentences. I just read a very fine book which spent a whole chapter decrying the use of the word “so” to start a sentence or a presentation (I…

I believe this also means I can continue to curse like a sailor (when I feel like it.) Um, right?

rickwebb’s tumblrmajig: I’ll talk how I want

The Common Sense Guide to SXSW: It’s Really Not That Hard*

Seems like everyone is posting a “Guide to SXSW”. Many of these contain paragraph after paragraph of tangible advice, everything from “Be nice” (I agree) to “Buy up all the chalk, bubbles, glitter…you can” (HUH? Um…no.) With respect to everyone’s opinions, y’all are frankly thinking about it way too much. (And don’t get me started on my hatred for the word ‘hustle’. Kindly shut the fuck up now, please). Yes, SXSW is an event, a huge one, at that. Yes, it is potentially overwhelming with all of the parties, people and panels (yep, they still offer those in the midst of the marketer’s wet dream of an event it’s now become), but I urge you to not think too much about it. Don’t overplan. Don’t stress. Just show up, bring business cards, and be open to serendipity. 

But if you really want a few more tips from this 9-year veteran, sure. Here you go.

  • Drink water. You’ll need it.
  • Get enough sleep. Skip some morning panels, order breakfast in bed; take a night off. The whole trend of “staying up all night to hustle” is not only annoying as hell (blog post forthcoming on that bullshit) but it’s also unhealthy. Get sleep. Your body needs it.
  • Wear your real clothes, not your stupid brand on your shirt. And if those are the only clothes you own, I’ve got a good stylist I’ll recommend you.
  • Pick one party you want to go to. All week. Yes, that sounds counter-intuitive, but just let the days & night evolve as you want to. You’ll go to a ton more, but if you over-plan, you’re going to be stressed out. That’s no fun for anyone, especially me who will tell you to chill the fuck out. (I hate being repetitive.)
  • Say yes more than no. Your new friend wants to ditch out on a panel & go to Moonshine? Do it.  
  • Spend some time in the sun. The back lawn of the Four Seasons is delectable. Sitting on the grass will recharge your soul.
  • Exercise. Even if I’m hungover as hell (read: usually), I drag my weary ass for a run (or fast walk, depending upon said hangover) down by Lady Bird Lake to start my day. It’s beautiful, and there’s this great little bench that I dare you to find. 
  • Hook up. No need to check in to get your “Bangin’ Badge”, pal, but hey, kissing a new friend is fun. And if you’re taken, having an innocent SXSW crush doesn’t hurt…just don’t take it too far. It’s good for the serotonin, and after the depletion caused by all that boozing, you’ll need it. 
  • Don’t take yourself too seriously. Whether you’re there to pimp your company or to just have fun and meet new people, nobody wants to get a sales pitch from a new friend. That will come up in the conversation, but that lad donning head-to-toe schwag telling you their new app is like Pinterest for zombies? Kindly shut the fuck up.

SXSW is what you make of it. It can be a very effective networking opportunity, and it can also be a fun, enjoyable, relaxing few days with great weather and a chance to meet new people. Don’t overthink, and for God’s sake, please don’t sprinkle me with glitter. That’s SOOO 2007.

*That’s what she said.

see-jess-live:

hellotraveler:

shakespeareandshoes:

there are a much much better example of Downton valentine’s

(via likegrecianart)

i. am. dying.

 Dead. Like the Turk.

Well SHIT. Now I’m pissed I hand-made my Valentine’s Day cards this year.