Rock the Silver

Bad hair day

2013-05-24T16:00:35-07:00

I started the week with a full head of long hair, and this morning I visited my stylist to see how much of it I can keep. There has been a bit of an accident.

Monday night I learned that I would be leaving the next morning at 6 a.m. for a business trip to Washington, D.C. I would spend the night at the Marriott Crystal Gateway and then leave again the next morning for Atlanta, before heading home Wednesday evening.

Tuesday was largely uneventful, if you don't count getting trapped in a stairwell and having to walk down nine flights to the fire escape and enter again through lobby security so I could get back into the building where I was already set up in a visitor's office. A minor nuisance and nothing compared to what would happen the next morning.

I was in my room getting ready. I was traveling with an executive, and we were flying together on the company aircraft. This wasn't the first time I've flown on the company plane, but it's not like I'm Joe Cool about the whole thing. You have to remember, I was raised by wolves. There's a certain protocol to the experience, and I'm just trying not make the big mistake.

A driver was picking us up at 6:30 a.m. to take us to Signature-Dulles, the executive terminal. I got up at 5, took a shower and was taking my time, letting my hair air dry, when I decided to use my big round brush to smooth it out. But in my haste to pack, I had forgotten it. However, I found a small round brush and figured it would work just fine.

I scooped a section of hair from the top, positioned the brush at the ends and slowly rolled it down to the scalp. Blew a little hot air on it and started to unroll. Except it wouldn't unroll. I was like, you've got to be kidding. I sat down and gently tried to untangle the brush from my hair, but it wouldn't come out.

By this time, it's a little after 6. I've got about 30 minutes, and then I need to be in the car ready to go. So I decide to finish packing and get dressed. As God is my witness, I will be ready, brush or no brush. I used the rest of my time to work on the glob at the top of my head. I stuck my head under the faucet and squirted the mini-bottle of hotel conditioner all over, thinking it might loosen it up, but it seemed I had just invented hair cement.

Time was up. I took the big hotel towel and wrapped it around my head turban-style. I took the elevator to the lobby and held my head high as I proceeded to walk through the Marriott Crystal Gateway in my slick little business suit and a fluffy white Marriott towel on my head. The driver was waiting, and I got in the car. He asked what happened, and I said I have a brush stuck in my hair. He said, Donna, you have the worst luck.

The executive I was traveling with arrived, took one look at me and said one word. Wow. In my quivering-but-not-quite-crying voice, I said I have a brush stuck in my hair. But I quickly manned up and said I won't disrupt the trip. I've already emailed a contact in Atlanta explaining my dilemma, and I will be separated from the main group to go deal with my problem. In the meantime, I had an hour flight to try and get the brush out.

A guy at the terminal gave me an odd look as we arrived, and I simply said, bad hair day and moved on. The pilot looked stunned, and the executive I was traveling with explained that under the towel was a brush, and it was stuck in my hair. The pilot nodded as though he sees it all the time.

The executive sat in the front, and I went to the rear of the plane. I removed the towel, and draped it across my lap. Pretty soon the executive came over and said, well, let's see if we can get that thing out. I was no, no, really, you don't have to do this ...

It took about 15 minutes of workmanship, and the executive kept asking if he was hurting me. I lied and said no, keep going. He later told me he worked up quite a sweat. But the brush was out and so were several clumps of hair. I still had huge mats in my hair and all that stinky conditioner. I squished it together and put it up in a clip. I looked presentable as I emerged from the airplane in Atlanta.

But my contact was prepared. We met a couple of years ago. She has stunning silver hair, and we call ourselves the silver sisters. She wasn't going to let me go down without a fight. She arrived in her personal vehicle and whisked me away to her office, where she had a colleague waiting with an assortment of hair tools. I was slobbering with gratitude, and she said, and I quote, "This is hair. This is important."

Her colleague gently removed all the tangles, but my hair still looked fried. They greased it down with hand lotion, clipped it back up and I looked good as new. I joined the rest of the group within an hour, and the visit continued without missing a beat.

This morning I went to see my stylist, who said it's not as bad as I think. She took off an inch or so, and the damage is barely visible. She said the executive did a good job, because none of the hair came out at the roots, and there are no bald patches. Just some broken strands that will eventually grow back and blend in with the rest of my hair.

How do I feel? Well, I was never actually embarrassed. Worried is more like it. I really thought it would have to be cut out, and I was concerned I would end up with a buzz cut. Not that I haven't been there before, but I was not anxious to go back there again. Kind people helped me, and even though I am unlucky when it comes to stuff like this, I am very lucky when it matters. I'll take it.

Cat people

2013-05-20T19:51:17-07:00

I wish I had a picture of this, but I don't. I played golf Sunday, and when I came home, I thought I'd get a little sun to even out my golf tan. Honestly, I'm not into sunning anymore, but those pesky lines around the ankles are a buzz killer.

The chaise lounge has this little hood-like shelter thing that covers the top part of your body, and I'm thinking that at least preserves the face, for what it's worth. I was laying on my stomach, getting the back of my golf ankles tanned, and the cat hopped up and made a pillow above my head. It felt so good. We snuggled. I smelled his fur. I thought, what a good boy cat!

Slowly, he squirmed and moved and adjusted, and a few minutes later I was halfway off the chaise with no protection from the little hood, practically all body parts exposed to the sun. I was like, you rotten cat! You squeezed me out of my comfy place so that you could have the shade. He is a predator, after all. He steals my husband's chair all the time, too. My husband calls him Chair King.

I still love the little guy. Bruno. Bruno Baby. Bruno Magli. Bruno from Sumatra. He has so much personality. Honestly, my cat has more personality than many of the people I encounter day-to-day. I said that in my outside voice, didn't I?

Bruno puts it all out there. Everything he does has a message. Today I thought about what people (not cats) share, and what they hold back. What they share is what I find interesting. But people who withhold and control their message all the time sort of annoy me. I guess that's because I'm the opposite. I probably reveal too much. I mean, here I am on the interwebs telling my life story to a couple of hundred people. But I am a writer at heart, and a writer writes about something. Some of us tell our stories, some of us tell other people's stories.

My favorite part of this blog is connecting with people who share their stories, too. We are not alone, and finding another person who once felt like you kinda sorta felt is an amazing thing. I acknowledge, however, that sometimes it's scary. I think, oh, this is dangerous, telling all this, hold back, stay safe. The world really doesn't care if this story is told.

But somebody does. Even if it's just one person. Connecting with one person is cool. Today I talked ad nauseum with a driver who grew up in the same general area where I grew up -- near Disneyland -- and we swapped our stories of E tickets and the magic shop on Main Street and rock candy. It was the highlight of my day.

Every day somebody responds to what we say and what we do and what we share, and that makes us human. Or possibly cats. I am personally fond of both.

Minimalist shoes for work and play

2013-05-17T04:27:37-07:00

Who knew that "Born to Run" is a book as well as a song? I happen to love both. But today I am talking about the book by Christopher McDougall. However, if you need a classic Bruce Springsteen fix, go here.

The book is about the Tamahumara Indians, who run long distances barefoot without injury. Even if you don't believe in the concept of barefoot running, and there are plenty who don't, it's a grand adventure story about a foot race through the Copper Canyons of Mexico.

Some might call it pseudoscience, but the author discusses the running shoe industry and how all the cushioning, especially in the heels, has actually made us more prone to injury. The padded shoes encourage a heavy heel strike at impact. Barefoot running proponents say we should be trying for a mid-foot strike, which not only reduces injuries but also makes us faster.

The book helped spawn a barefoot running revolution, except that few actually run barefoot. Most people who want to try this out wear what are typically called minimalist shoes. One could argue all day about what makes a shoe minimalist. There are plenty to choose from! One data point is the drop, which is the difference in height between the heel and the ball of the foot. Some barefoot runners look for "zero drop."

Smitten after I read the book, I was eager to see if minimalist walking shoes could help fix my aching body parts. Sadly, I've written more than I care to about my knees and back, but here is the executive summary. You can browse through the rest of the Health, Fitness & Body Image category of the blog for more gory details.

Last year I was in physical therapy, and I asked the practioner about minimalist shoes. Granted, I'm only talking about walking not running. A young physical therapy student, he said, no, absolutely not, you need cushioning. I looked down at his feet, and he was sporting Vibrams, the funky standard of barefoot shoes. I said, well, you're wearing them!

He said, and I quote, "Well, let's put it this way. You have a few more miles on you."

I abandoned the idea of barefoot walking. Still wearing my heavily cushioned shoes, I went to a specialist in sports medicine, who figured out that my back was actually the primary source of my knee pain. I worked with him for several months and am now pretty much back to normal. Toward the end of my therapy, I said, you know, I will need new shoes pretty soon, what should I get?

He said since my knees were so sensitive I should introduce them very slowly but try a zero drop shoe. I told him the other guy said I was too old, had too many miles on me, and he said that was ridiculous. Note that anyone, regardless of injuries, should acclimate slowly to a minimalist shoe. Transitioning too quickly is a good way to find new muscles and possibly other injuries. He recommended Altra.

I bought a pair and began my transition, starting with 10 minutes. I did have some calf pain in the beginning, but that's gone. I now wear them for 1.5 hour walks and even wore them to walk 18 holes of golf because they are so darn comfortable. My knees and back are getting better and better. I do take shorter strides to facilitate the mid-foot strike, but I still move along at a pretty good clip.

Since I started with all the knee pain three years ago, I've steered clear of heels for work. I didn't really see much improvement in my pain, though, until I went to see this doctor. But now that I'm wearing the minimalist shoes for walking, I'm noticing how much I like a super flat shoe the rest of the time as well. I like the way the ball of my foot hugs the ground. Maybe I'm starting to feel that now because I've modified the way I walk. Whatever -- I feel great, and my knees are happy.

I still have some pretty shoes with heels in my closet, but I am not sure I will wear them again. This minimalist thing is working for me, and I don't want to go back to where I was on the pain scale after making so much progress. Now I want totally flat shoes for work, too. I feel lighter on my feet. Why even yesterday I was walking on the treadmill and suddenly had an urge to run! I ran one minute, walked one minute and then ran one more minute.

This is fun! Who knows where this might take me? I'm so glad I didn't listen to the guy who said I was too old for minimalist shoes. They might not be for everyone, and I encourage you to do your homework if this sounds like something you'd like to try. Here's a good starting point.

I know legs look great in heels, but swollen knees don't look good in braces and bandages.

Hunting for rocks with dynamite

2013-05-14T04:15:04-07:00

Good news in the writing world! In October Pat Conroy will publish a memoir about his father, who inspired "The Great Santini." Talk about Dads and demons. I can't wait to read the real story of Pat Conroy's abusive father as told by one of the most gifted writers on the planet.

In the same category of writing, Dads and demons, I would like to announce that I am back -- she's baaaacck -- after a patchy five months of blogging. What happened is that I encountered a person who yelled at me and called me a failure and told me to be quiet and quit bothering him with questions and then withdrew completely because I was seemingly not worth yelling at anymore.

So I got quiet like I was told. I didn't completely lose my voice, but it was a struggle to post anything about anything. It's surprising I tolerated this behavior. It was like nothing I had ever experienced before. Or so I thought. Early on, my sister said I think you are having such a hard time with this because of Dad. I kind of blew it off, because I forgave my father for his bad behavior years ago. I'm 57 years old and way past all that. OK, not really.

As it turns out, I had experienced something very much like this before -- as a child growing up. My father did all those things -- yelled at me, called me a failure, told me to quit bothering him and then withdrew. You know the expression? It's never too late to have a happy childhood? I've spent a lifetime building myself back up, and I couldn't believe ... I couldn't believe this was happening to me again.

This person was only in my life a few months, but damage was done. I kept telling myself I could quickly snap out of it, but time and grief have its own agenda. I simmered and stewed and reached out to trusted friends, who gave me great support and exceptional advice. My favorite was from Lynne.

You are a rock, but right now they're coming at you with dynamite.

All of the sudden, I thought, I'm fine. I'm fine. Maybe when you're a rock, everything looks like dynamite. So let's just blow this shit up and move on.

It would be easier to just start writing again and not offer up any sort of explanation, but I thought it was important to share this story. We're in mid-life, loving who we've become, and we think the demons of our past are gone and buried. What I didn't know is that sometimes they lie just below the surface scratching for air. Even if you're a rock, some people have dynamite.

Nude at work

2013-05-04T12:39:20-07:00

I've been in a writing slump for various reasons, which I hope to articulate and share with you some day soon. In the meantime, I thought, what can I do that doesn't involve writing? I was looking for something safe and benign, perhaps pictures of my cat? But safe and benign never seem to go where I go.

If you have been reading awhile, you know I struggle with photography in general and pictures of me specifically. Several readers have encouraged me to post more images of myself. I mean, this is a blog that discusses the quest to try and look cool through aging and gray hair. It would seem like I might offer up some proof now and again.

The reasons for my bashfulness range from delicate self-esteem to worrying about whether it's appropriate for a business professional to do the patented blogger's pose on the interwebs. But I like to think this strange mental place I've been in lately is part of a journey I'm supposed to be on. And my gut is telling me to get over all my anxieties and do whatever I want.

And right now, I want to show you how I wore nude fishnets to work. I refuse to wear pantyhose and usually go with tights in the winter and bare legs in the summer. But recently it occurred to me that I might need an option that offers a little more polish.

These are Oroblu fishnet tights in "Sable." I bought them at Nordstrom. They are about $20 a pop, but so far I've worn the same pair five times without any signs of damage. And they are really, really comfortable. I like that they add a bit of warmth for the frosty air conditioning in the office, and they also disguise darks spots and other imperfections on the legs. If you click on the image, it will enlarge, and you can see the mesh in greater detail.

I used my husband's camera, which is nearly identical to mine but works better. We actually conducted tests, and he agrees mine is effed up. Here's my promise. If I actually succeed in posting 10 pictures of myself, I will buy a new camera and learn to use it.

Wella SP LUXE OIL update

2013-04-21T06:42:20-07:00

I updated my original post online, but for those of you who subscribe via email, I wanted to be sure you saw this. An alert reader read the label, and Wella SP LUXE OIL does contain silicones. I was convinced it did not, but I was wrong. I still think it's a great product and doesn't build up like other silicone products I have used. I will continue to use it, but I know some people are careful to avoid silicones, and I didn't want you to spend money on a product that isn't right for you.

I'm so sorry for the mistake!

Product crush: Wella SP LUXE OIL

2013-04-20T14:28:14-07:00

Knowing which products to use on our hair is probably one of the questions that gets answered in the eternal hereafter, right after the meaning of life and why the fuss overJustin Bieber. The answers certainly seem to be elusive here on Earth. I didn't have as much angst when my gray hair was short, but my longer gray hair is prone to dryness and frizz.

In my search for a solution, I've gone back and forth on sulfates and silicones. I still stand by my earlier post, In praise of cones. Cones help with frizzies and breakage, but I eventually grew to dislike the plastic-like coating that accumulates on the hair. I called it Plastic Ono Hair. Sure, you can wash it out with sulfates, but then you start the vicious cycle all over again. I've been sulfate and silicone-free for several months now.

I'm still experimenting with shampoo and conditioner, but I've been using a leave-in product that surpasses everything else I've tried and eliminates the need for any kind of mouse, gel ... even hair spray. The product is Wella SP LUXE OIL, and I bought it upon the recommendation of Barbara, our wonderful friend in Germany. It was not easy to find in the United States. I bought it online here with no problems and free shipping.

It's basically a blend of oils. Hence the name. After shampooing and conditioning in the shower, I wrap my hair in a microfiber towel. When I take the towel off, I use two pumps and distribute it through the middle lengths and squeeze it into the ends of my hair. Then I comb through. If I air dry, it holds the wave. If I blow dry, it's smooth. It does not weigh down my somewhat fine hair, and in fact, I seem to have more body than ever. I don't use it every time I wet my hair -- you can see and feel whether you need to add any.

Wella SP LUXE OIL is my new product crush. I love not using sticky goo on my hair -- just natural oils that smell good and feel good. My hair is soft and silky. The flyaways are tamed, and I don't even use a spritz of spray anymore.

Two haircuts ago, my stylist had to cut extra off due to damage from the flat iron. I now only use the flat iron on my bangs. I blow dry two or three days a week and air dry the rest of the time. If it doesn't look work-worthy, I simply wear it up. I really love my hair and can't imagine going back to the patented fake brown with coppery highlights I used to sport.

I rarely get compliments on my hair from colleagues. Perhaps it's too threatening. I choose to reveal what they choose to hide. However, I was on business travel, and somebody threw a nice one my way. I was eating dinner by myself in the hotel bar full of other business people. Lots of men with gray hair, but I was the lone woman rocking the silver.

Apparently the waitstaff had a huddle to discuss my hair. I could see them talking and looking sideways at me. I figured I had spinach in my teeth. It would seem they appointed the young female bartender their spokeperson. She came over and said, "We just want you to know you're hair is beautiful."

Gray hair is in many ways an act of rebellion, and you can't expect to be showered with compliments. But every now and then, kind words magically appear. Enjoy them.

UPDATE: An alert reader read the label, and Wella SP LUXE OIL does contain silicones. I was convinced it did not, but I was wrong. I still think it's a great product and doesn't build up like other silicone products I have used. I'm so sorry for the mistake!

Not quite a mountain goat

2013-04-01T13:35:55-07:00

We spent a gorgeous weekend camping at Caprock Canyon State Park in Texas. We did an 8-10 mile hike down through the canyon and up near the top, and I am so excited to say that after all the troubles I had last year with my knees (which turned out to be my back). You can read the executive summary of my knee/back saga here.

I get up at 4:15 a.m. most weekdays to work out. I hate it, but it's worth it to stay in shape to see sights like this. We started off in the morning when it was cold, and I peeled the navy polarfleece layer about a third of the way through. Some of the trail was quite steep and rocky, but we took our time and played it safe. We didn't use to worry about falling, but now we do.

My husband and I have done rugged hiking like this in the past, and I always used to say I was like a mountain goat skillfully traversing the rough terrain. I'll just say this. My mountain goat days are over. My movements are stiff and careful, but I am moving, and that's good enough for me.

We came upon a young couple who did move like mountain goats, and they suggested we climb to a spot near the top, so we did to prove we still had it, and the view was spectacular. But the trail grew narrow and came quite close to the edge. I do not like edges! It wasn't marked well up there, and after awhile we turned around and returned the way we hiked in. We are perhaps less mobile but certainly smarter.

If you squint, you can see my little gray braids peeking out from my Tilley hat. One of the reasons I was looking forward to long hair is that I find long hair to be the best camping hair ever. You can wet it, braid it, clip it, put a hat on it -- whatever you want, and you never, ever wake up in the morning looking like Pee Wee Herman.

We were both whipped when we got back. We just hung out, read. Eventually took a shower, which felt amazing. I stretched for about 30 minutes, and I really think that saved me. Woke up with sore quads, but that's about it. Other than feeling relaxed and happy to be healthy and alive.

I used to take mobility for granted, but I never will again. Not to say that I won't lose it one day, but at least I'll have enjoyed every moment I had it.

Stuck on the spin cycle

2013-03-29T12:12:58-07:00

As you may recall, I transitioned to a new job with my company, and I've pretty much been on the spin cycle ever since. An interesting and exciting ride on the spin cycle, but still, it was a huge change, and I'm on my third boss in three months.

Great opportunities for all, but these changes have left me wondering if work is ever really about the work. In the end, doesn't it always come down to people? You like to think none of this matters, just get the job done, but the churn of humans in the workplace takes a toll. It's hard to lose a leader and start up with another -- it's all good but stressful just the same.

I used to take pride in being a strong and independent person who didn't require a lot of love and kisses on the job. But in my last role, I worked with a fabulous team that doled out the fuzzies on a regular basis, and I learned to like it.

When I left, one of the guys on my team said I was an inspirational leader, and he would miss me. In my typical self-deprecating style, I said, "Oh, you just like me because I'm funny. It has nothing to do with inspiration." He said, "Are you kidding me? I would work for you on the Moon."

I remember him saying it, I would work for you on the Moon, and it brings tears to my eyes.

People and warm fuzzies grow on you. It's not like I need group hugs or a blue ribbon every day just for showing up sober, but I was shocked to discover how much I missed my colleagues.

The good news is you can build a strong network of supportive colleagues anywhere you go if you value relationships and take the time to cultivate them. I'm meeting a whole new circle of work friends, but it does take time, so I'm learning to be patient. The bad news is that warm fuzzies can turn into a monster that must be fed.

My advice? Enjoy hard work, warm relationships and the occasional offering of positive reinforcement, but don't become dependent on validation and approval from others. It takes away from your energy, which you are going to need to be your absolute best!

Lean In: A book review

2013-03-18T04:18:31-07:00

Facebook COO Sheryl Sandberg has been getting a lot of heat for her new book, "Lean In: Women, Work, and the Will to Lead." Critics say she is a billionaire with enormous privileges and a message that doesn't resonate with the vast majority of women. Lofty careers? Seventy percent of the world's poor are women, and this chick worries about getting ahead?

Well, Sheryl didn't write a book about how to erase poverty. And she didn't write a book about single moms and how to make ends meet. She wrote a book for ambitious young women who want a family and a career that will take them to the highest levels of leadership. She wrote a book to engage in a public discussion on why women still trail behind men at work.

I'm way outside her target demographic, but I bought it anyway figuring there would be a few nuggets for those of us beyond childbearing age. The book is a pleasing mix of personal reflection and scholarly research. For me, it wasn't so much a personal guide to success but a status report and wake-up call on what happened after feminism faded.

We didn't finish the job. Women still make less than men, and we still aren't getting where we want to go. Still taking care of the children, still cleaning the house, still trying to figure out if it's worth it. For a lot of women, it's not. A startling number of women drop out or back off, settling for less responsibility instead of leaning into their careers. Sheryl says go for it, lean in ... hence the name of the book.

Among the many things I liked about the book is its social platform. She kind of picks up where feminism left off. Sheryl wants to help women succeed, but she also wants to change the conversation about equality for women. We haven't had that conversation in awhile, and I applaud her for taking a stance. Women have a long way to go to achieve their full potential in our society, and I think Sheryl's thought leadership will help us get there.

Most of the book didn't apply to me and never did. I did not want children, so I didn't have to make any hard decisions there. I aspired to be successful, and I've worked long and hard at my career, but I never imagined myself leading an entire company. In my family, getting a college degree was a big deal.

There were a few personal takeaways, though. I like the idea of leaning in when your soft jelly center says give up. Even mid-life professionals can relate to that! Sheryl also says, "Don't leave before you leave." In other words, don't make choices or declarations now that will limit you later. I translate that to, "Don't retire before you retire." Stay in the game -- it's not supposed to get easier.

One thing about the book bothered me at first, but I'm over it now. I was reading it on my Kindle, and it showed I was about 66 percent done, but I could tell she was wrapping up. All that extra space was for acknowledgments. OK, so it takes a village to write Sheryl Sandberg's book. From "writing partner" to a researcher who is an expert on gender and social inequality to her friendship with Gloria Steinem, it becomes clear how privileged Sheryl really is.

So what? She has an important message, and I'm glad she used her resources to tell this story. There are a lot of young, talented, ambitious women out there today who want a career in business and aspire to the highest levels of leadership. With the right support, these young women can make a difference. This is the book I would give them so they know it's possible.