Gratitude Monday: You got this, girl

I had a transformative weekend, literally and metaphorically, personally and professionally.

Saturday morning a friend came over with her sourdough starter, and taught me how to feed it so I’ll be able to make sourdough stuff going forward. Making pizza dough, and then cinnamon rolls gave me enough confidence to try this. (I baked Cinnamon Rolls 2.0 last Thursday; they’re still not as good as they could be, but using a richer, eggier dough that was almost scary soft was a vast improvement over the initial release of a couple of weeks ago.)

So LQ kindly brought her starter and walked me through “feeding” it with flour and warm water. While it got going, she and I had a long chat, catching up on a lot of things since we last met a couple of years ago. One of the super things she had me do was put a rubber band around the feeder jar to mark where it was when we tucked it away to feed, so I could see how much it grew. Here it is after about two hours:

It’s kind of like watching your child go off to kindergarten—just kind of knowing you gave him all you could, and now it’s up to him.

In the evening I gave it another feeding and yesterday morning, I portioned out a half cup to be starter and put it in the fridge. I’ll need to feed it once a week, so I’ve put a recurring appointment in my calendar to remind me. The remainder I used to make…sourdough pizza dough. I was so excited when it rose like a champ, but with that slightly sour tang.

I divided the dough into four (it’s supposed to be enough for two thin pizzas or one thick crust), froze three and made one up for dinner yesterday night.

Here it is waiting to be dressed:

And with its pizza bianca toppings:

Yes, I added prosciutto; sue me.

Out of the oven:

And with the insalata:

Yum.

Pro tip: LQ warned me to immediately rinse out the dishes and implements used in tending the starter, because she said if you don't, the slurry hardens. She was right. I did rinse out the bowl and spatula before putting in the dishwasher to finish it off. But I didn't notice some little drips when I wiped down the counter. You need a blowtorch and a chisel to get that stuff off when it hardens. I'm exploring the idea of using it for some kind of construction sealant.

 But also on Saturday, I had a call with a guy I “met” on Twitter, who’s been an advocate for and ally of underrepresented people in tech for years. I happened to catch a tweet where he said the best way for him to help people looking for a job is to have a 30-minute call so he can figure out how to deploy his network of contacts. Well—because I’m playing to win, you know—I raised my hand, and we set up the call.

He gave concrete suggestions for my LinkedIn profile (meaning: he’d taken time to read it), made me describe what I want to be doing (not job title, or anything less than the deliverables I envisioned each day) and turned that description into actionable ways to present my skills and abilities. He also told me, “Set a goal for yourself; X number of applications to make each week. And when you apply to a job, identify the hiring manager (or recruiter) and send me an email with that information. I’ll see who I know who can help.”

Now, here’s the transformative, amazing thing about this: beyond taking 40 minutes out of his weekend to talk with me, he committed to give me concrete help moving forward. By assigning me to send him emails, he also made me accountable. I don’t know that I’ll send him an email for every single job, but I will for the ones that really matter to me.

Because if I don’t send him at least two per week, everyone will know I’m slacking off.

Additionally, while we were talking, he had a root around the Web and made some suggestions about job titles that I might consider—specifically ones that I’d have ruled out as being too technical for me.

When I mused that this was a good idea, that I shouldn’t filter out opportunities because I have some preconceived notion about what they require, he cautioned, “Don’t do what so many women do—not applying to a job because you don’t meet 80% of the requirements.” Oh, right. (Yeah, that’s a thing. In general, guys will apply for something if they are vaguely acquainted with 25% of the requirements; women fret that they couldn’t possibly do it because they can’t tick off every line item.)

He closed the conversation with, “You got this, girl!”

And he’s right. I watched my little sourdough starter transform itself, and I’m doing the same professionally. Like the starter, I need to tend this phase in my life. Something new isn’t impossible. I can do it, with a bit of help. I’m grateful for both these reminders.