I’m an ops girl.  That’s “operations,” or maybe “operational.”  When there’s a problem, I look for an operational solution.  Communication’s breaking down?  Show me your structure.  Need me to make a commitment on behalf of a program/ product/ team?  Let’s find an operating mechanism for assuring we follow through.

Other people look for people solutions.  My boss is one of them.  If there’s a problem, he will find the right person to deal with it. 

I’m trying to find a happy medium, because structures don’t allow for unexpectedly fabulous outcomes and people don’t always come through.

My husband and I are making progress on other other house, finally.  For months we avoided it because we weren’t sure how to frame in the windows we’d replaced, and then one day we just tried something and it worked.  Mostly.

We’d been estimating and planning and buying stuff in a waterfall way, meaning we’d take one experience and extrapolate it out to the others, and we’d assume that we could do all of one thing all at once for efficiency (painting, trim, demolition).  If this window took six hours and that many materials, five windows would take five times that, right?  If I paint the trim in one room, I’ll just do every room.

Two problems: 1) we didn’t have perfect knowledge, and 2) 35% complete on everything feels like crap.

Because we didn’t have perfect knowledge, we’d apply the same wrong technique or material or plan to five windows… and then be wrong five times more.  Theoretically we should have been more efficient, but in reality, where we were learning with every attempt, we just did a bunch of stuff that had to be undone.  Or returned, but of course we never got around to it, so I don’t even want to know how much we’ve spent on materials we haven’t used… never mind the ones that got lost and had to be purchased again.

Shoot me.

And the difference between 25% and 50% finished still feels UNFINISHED.  If we had to sell it in a week, we’d have a helluva lot of work to do, none of which is optional.  At one point, we might have skipped the decorative trim on the windows, but once it’s on half the windows, you have to either trim out the other half or remove the first half.

You still with me?

The waterfall method of project management – the one focused on efficiency gained from the benefits of expertise and practice and careful attention to detail – doesn’t work if you don’t have perfect knowledge from the beginning.  It doesn’t work when you’re DIY’ing, building software, or working on a relationship.

We need Agile.  I’m delving back into geekdom, I know, but I promise it’s applicable to life.  In Agile development, we don’t attempt to convince ourselves that we know everything at the beginning, or ever, really.  We figure out what we do know and want, prioritize the most important stuff, and commit to a short period of time.  Instead of laying out a schedule for the next six months, we accept that we’ll know more soon – and knowing more almost always leads to more work – so we’ll deal with it when we do.  For now, knowing what we do, we can do X, Y, and Z within a two-week period, then we’ll reassess.

Because we assume we don’t know everything, we only estimate relatively.  (This is bigger than that, this is smaller than that, this is the biggest.)  We check our estimates when we’re finished and start to measure our success in terms of improvement and velocity rather than efficiency.  (We did three mediums and a small last week.  We did four mediums and two smalls this week.)  The longer our teams work together, the greater our velocity, because we know each other better so less time is spent debating and communicating and more is spent on doing.

Tell me this isn’t like the first time you embark on a DIY anything with your sweetheart.  I dare you.

Thinking this way has been mind-blowing to me.  Remember, I think about efficiency in the shower.  I want meetings to be quick and to the point, which was great when I was a project manager and the goal was status, but not so great now that I’m a leader expected to create collaboration.  You can’t have efficiency AND a good relationship.  Maybe someday way in the future, but at the beginning, you have one or the other, and I was choosing the wrong one.

Which brings me back to Twister.  I’d been focusing on being efficient.  How quickly can we get through the game so we can get back to other things?  (Note: “other things” weren’t even that great, things like surfing the web and reading the news and wishing I was doing something interesting.)

What if, instead, I stopped trying to rush through the day to get to… what, leisure time?… and instead just did the next thing, then reassessed?  When I found the fastest way to shower, I spent the extra time doing nothing.  Efficiency got me time I then wasted: a metaphor for my life.

Slower is better if you get it right.  My husband thinks (and assesses and looks and thinks some more) when he does anything DIY.  Drives me nuts.  Start at one end and keep going, baby.  Those five minutes of staring between two minutes of working adds up, you know. 

It’s appropriate, but only sometimes.  I like to paint because it’s methodical and gives me thinking time.  I divide my brain time between doing it better (the efficiency mindset is pretty ingrained) and pondering other things.  I write blog posts in my head, think through work challenges, figure out how exactly to hold the brush so I get the most paint on the wall quickly.

But if it’s not painting, and we don’t know what we’re doing, endless conversations at the beginning aren’t as beneficial as doing a bit of planning, trying, and reassessing.

It’s like if my way and my husband’s had a baby: it would be a perfect balance of doing and thinking, planning and trying.

So I’m trying not to think too far ahead, seeing the benefits to just trying something, and only buying supplies to do one thing at a time.  And we’re having more fun playing Twister.

{Speaking of Agile: Jilian, what did you decide about the new job?}

~~~~~

I’m making a baby quilt.  I’ve never made a quilt before – never wanted to – but then I saw a fabulous modern quilt on Etsy and decided to try it myself.  Instead of country-ish patterns, mine has only horizontal strips of bright prints.  I’ll “quilt” vertical lines and call it good.

Also, my horoscope (which I read after I got all fired up about making a quilt) said this: “If you really want to be different, why not put your credit cards and your checkbook away, and breathe new life into a garment or accessory you already own? You’re always in the mood to shop — but are you ever in the mood to create something new? Instead of making more debt, why not explore ways to stabilize your financial future. Invest in some raw materials. You might end up with a profitable part-time business.”

Wanna see?  I started last night.  I’m making two, one for each of the baby boys in our neighborhood.  The fabric is soft flannel and I love the bright colors.  I’m hoping it’s “boy” enough even with the flowers in the middle.  Boys can like flowers!  They’re nature!

Remember to imagine stitching going in the opposite direction of the strips of fabric (with this image’s orientation, the stitching would be horizontal).

This the back/ underside… so soft (and such a pain to work with because it gets static-y fuzz everywhere)!

I haven’t decided if I’ll use the fuzzy green stuff as the edging or if I’ll actually use this blanket binding.  Opinions?

The materials will end up costing me about $20 for each one and will take about two hours to finish.  I’m thinking that if this goes well, I’ll make quilts for everyone for Christmas (don’t worry, little bro, yours will be more manly… and you can take it on picnics and use it to get girls).  If I get crazy with the follow-through, I might try to find a way to make labels with each person’s name and the year.

I just need to find a source for modern prints.  Let the web surfing begin!

Do you know about “willing suspension of disbelief”?  It’s how we watch movies and TV shows: we choose to ignore our disbelief that the actors are the characters, that the characters exist, that their existence is made available for our viewing.

I got to thinking about willing suspension of disbelief a few weeks ago while at a customer site.  A colleague remarked on the team’s ability to set aside “parking lot” issues (those not the point of the current discussion) in order to continue training.  I replied that they made full use of willing suspension of disbelief; it allowed them to compartmentalize enough to make progress.

Last week, that comment fueled my “a, ha!” moment.

My husband, well, he loves Twister.  Loves.  He will set aside virtually anything to have a go.  Quick, lengthy, sweet, direct – doesn’t matter.  He’s (almost) always willing, even when it’s clear that my intention is to get it over with (sorry, I’m human… and sometimes a little bitchy).  If I say I’m willing, he believes me.

I, on the other hand, pay entirely too much attention to his perceived intent.  If I don’t think he’s genuine in his attempts to woo me, I don’t wanna.  He’s wooing, but I don’t really believe it’s because he loves me, but because he wants me.

Hi, I’m a nutcase.  But I do think that worrying about intent (versus taking someone at face value) is a female indulgence.  He may be doing and saying what I want, but if I don’t think it’s what he really means – what he really thinks – well, then, it’s not good enough.

I’m not willingly suspending my disbelief so I’m not able to compartmentalize my thoughts enough to enjoy a good game o’ Twister.  And really, who am I to pretend to be able to read someone’s mind?

So this weekend, I compartmentalized.  When he was sweet, I ignored the voice in my head that said he was hugging me just because I asked him to (he was).  When he was kind, I ignored the voice that said he was playing me (he was, kinda).  When he offered a backrub, rather than try not to enjoy it because then I’d be suckered in, I relaxed… and enjoyed it, and got suckered in.

But we had fun.  He got what he wanted and so did I. And isn’t that the point?

Twister Tuesday has been a little bit harder* than Bright Side Blogging, perhaps because the goal is less clear.  I mean, THE GOAL** is clear, but the goal of focusing on the whole thing isn’t.  What is success, exactly?  Is success doing it (ahem, playing**) more often?  Is success enjoying the game more?  Or is success merely starting an online dialogue about something we don’t talk about too often?

I’m not sure.

What I do know is that breaking down our game strategy and figuring out what does (and doesn’t) need improvement has been helpful to me.  So many of my frustrations are self-invoked, so thinking through them in a focused way is good.

Here’s what I know so far: warming up is good, necessary and fun; blogging while drinking wine leads to very long and meandering posts; my mind doesn’t empty easily. 

The universe has conspired to send me a few very obvious clues, one of which is that change happens at the micro level.  I’m an ops person by nature, always looking for the big solution to problems, the brilliant new idea or clear and consistent process by which all the ills of the world (my world, anyway) will miraculously disappear.  Essentially, I believe in magic.  But between reading “Blink” and swooping in and out of a week-long Agile/ Scrum training, I’m learning something new.

What I’m learning is that I’m already doing things differently in the right direction: I’m making small changes that affect my life in a big way.  I’m looking for the bright side, smiling more and sniping less, having faith that listening to the signs and appreciating my life will get me where I need to be.  I’m choosing to hope. 

So instead of looking for a fix for this Twister thing, I’m just doing one thing at a time.  I wasn’t sure how to calm my mind, but when I really thought about it, I only had a few options: 1) ask my husband for help by talking to me; 2) find some music; 3) play music in my head.  The goal, as you can see, was to replace the pragmatic narrator in my head with a more sexy and appropriate one.

But then I focused on warming up – and my illogical reticence – and the voice took care of itself.  I don’t remember being annoyed by the voice, so it must not have been distracting.  The voice was a symptom of the bigger issue, which was that my whole self (not just the voice in my head) wasn’t immersed in the moment, living in the now, involved in the whole Twister situation.  I didn’t have my game face on**.

Today’s lesson, then, is that I have to keep digging to find the real problem.  It wasn’t the voice, it was the brain behind the voice, the brain that was trying to tell me that I needed to respect myself enough to insist on what I needed.

At work we talk about “five why’s.”  When you’re presented with a problem, ask why – five subsequent times.  By the fifth, you are much more likely to get to the REAL problem.

Now I just need to figure out how to fall asleep soon after playing Twister.  My hubby passes right out (is that a man thing?) but my heart rate’s up and I’m wide awake.  For hours. 

Not good.

*No pun intended.

**Pun definitely intended.

This lack of propensity for Twister is my own fault, really.  Well, okay, not entirely my fault.  My husband’s easily reset expectations certainly contribute, as does my inability to shut my mind off (you can read about that here).

But what did we learn from Bright Side Blogging and the debt snowball?  That seemingly small changes in my own outlook make huge differences in our life.  So in keeping with that theory, I’ve been thinking about what I can do to improve our Twister situation.

The most obvious change is to spend more time warming up.  I take full responsibility for not requiring us to do this, often choosing to just hop right on the board so we can get the game over with.  Worse, I’ve been known to endlessly discuss rules ahead of time: who goes first, who gets to be blue, how we handle tie-breakers.  Buzzkill.

Instead, I’m requiring myself to insist on a full warm-up before playing.  Not sure how to broach the subject with my husband, I found it more effective to show him instead.

So when he wanted to move to the board, I suggested that instead we start with our mouths.  (Yes, hi, I’m mixing metaphors.)  And when a half minute he tried it again, I asked that we stick with the kissing again.  And when a minute later he tried again… you get the picture.  I didn’t get annoyed, didn’t whine about rushing to the finish, didn’t do or say anything one teensy bit negative.  I just kept asking if we could keep doing what we were doing because I liked it so much and it was getting me so warmed up.

We had the best Twister session we’d had in a long time.  By the time we finished, I was completely out of breath, completely worn out, and completely relaxed.  And it had almost nothing to do with the actual game and everything to do with the warm up.

Maybe that’s the trick: set my own expectations and then hold myself to them.

Are you not insisting on something that could improve your Twister game?

{Oh, how I hate writing on a deadline.  My brain completely empties, leaving me with nothing but half-finished sentences and glasses of wine.  Okay, so only half of that is a bad thing.  I’m going to force myself to write this post because I owe it to you, but I’m restating the goal as “write something about Twister in some fashion every Tuesday” rather than “write something GOOD about Twister in some fashion every Tuesday.”  Please adjust your expectations accordingly.}

So many things to write about for this first Twister Tuesday: how to empty my mind so I’m not so distracted (maybe I should try to write a blog post!), how to get the endless loop of stupid and unromantic music out of my head, how to define a Twister target that doesn’t make my “get to the point” personality hop on just to get it over with.  {Yes, that was definitely dirty.}

Instead, though, let’s start at the very beginning.  Do I like to play Twister?  I think so.  See, my mind doesn’t empty when I’m turned on, my body doesn’t always enjoy the act, and finishing the game feels good but doesn’t bring me hours of stress reduction, so I have to think about it before answering.

But I can say with absolute certainty that I like the emotional connection and the knowledge that my husband is satiated (if only for a few hours).

The actual playing, for me, is merely the means to the end.  This is the challenge: to enjoy the game rather than just the finish line.  And I have hang-ups (obviously).  While I won’t go into the source of the hang-ups – because it would be boring, not because I’m hiding anything horrible – I will admit their existence and the resulting prudishness. 

Yea, I’m kind of a prude.  I’m easily distracted by smells and sounds and messiness.  It’s not that it bothers me (I don’t think), only that I’m worried it will bother him, a worry that is completely ridiculous because he’s male – you know, everything’s fine as long as it involves two players and a Twister board.  All of the worry and stress make me want to play less, sort of like when the kitchen’s a mess, I don’t really want to cook because then I’d have to clean and I just don’t want to deal with it.

And suddenly I’m reminded why I have to be slightly intoxicated to have fun dancing: I’m horribly self-conscious and I think I lack rhythm.  You don’t actually need to lack rhythm to lack it, by the way; you just have to think you do.  I’m worried that everyone’s watching me.  I’m trying to be graceful and fun-loving and with the beat, but instead, I’m all caught up in my head.  Dancing is fun when you don’t care who’s watching or how you look, when you’re thinking about the song and the rhythm and how good it feels to lose yourself in the beat.  And I don’t dance like that, not usually.

But I do like to country dance.  The steps are laid out for you and all you have to do is follow them – and in the constraint comes a whole lot of room to enjoy.  I don’t have to worry about what comes next or how to move or where to put my foot.  It’s all there, in clearly laid out expectations, so I can sway and rock and throw my head back when it feels good.

Well, if ever there was a phrase that could be applied to Twister, it would be that one. 

“I don’t have to worry about what comes next or how to move or where to put my foot.  It’s all there, in clearly laid out expectations, so I can sway and rock and throw my head back when it feels good.”

I’m married.  I have played Twister with this man many, many times.  If ever there was a situation where a woman should know what to expect, it’s this one.  So for as many times as we play Twister this week, I’m going to remind myself that there is no reason to be nervous, worried, or paying attention. 

And if I can’t shut down that annoyingly distracting voice in my head, I’m going to force it to narrate.  I’ll let you know how it goes. 

{My apologies for this long and rambling post.  As I get more comfy with this Twister Tuesday thing, I’ll find a rhythm.  Promise.}

Yes, yes, against my better judgment, I’m aiming to publish a Twister-related post every Tuesday. This is against my better judgment because I’m not so good at the scheduled stuff. I like to think of myself as super spontaneous, choosing my next action based on my feelings and whims, letting my intuition carry me. In reality that just makes me a procrastinator, but I prefer the other interpretation, so committing to a weekly, scheduled, focused post is, well, a commitment. But I’m a big fan of talking about embarrassing things with you peeps, so I will try.

{Aside: this bolding of sentences thing has gotten a bit old for me, though I can see that it might improve readability. Except I keep bolding the first sentence of every paragraph, and then I realize my paragraphs are either too long or too short, and then I get all nervous when I should be spontaneous and swashbuckling in my blogging. First world problem, I know.}

I wasn’t so sure I wanted to embark on a Twister improvement plan. Unlike focusing on the bright side, dedicating myself to increasing our Twister practice seemed like something I would regret. The last thing I want to do is raise his expectations even further*. Really. Case in point: we played twice in twelve hours last weekend. Twelve hours after that, my husband looked disappointed that we weren’t in play. Twelve hours after that, he was alternating between super sweetness (hoping it would set the stage) and passive aggressive hinting. All this within 24 hours.

Shoot me.

But hey, that’s the challenge: improving our Twister situation without setting unbearably high expectations or (here’s the important part) getting lost in the whole point*. In the past, when I’ve embarked on a strict and frequent Twister practice schedule, it’s been all about doing it and less about enjoying it (pun intended). I’m all too impatient with my own body and needs and all too willing to just get it over with – which sucks*.

Yesterday I spent way too many hours reading Pioneer Woman’s love story then yearning for one of my own, until I remembered, “Hey, that guy in bed next to me is pretty freaking hot, in my completely biased opinion, and when I allow myself to lean on him, does a pretty bang* up job of taking care of me. Even when I suck*. Maybe this challenge – like all the others – is more about outlook and less about action, more about figuring out what’s not working and less about keeping score. Which could lead to more action.”

So, every Tuesday for a while, I’m going to blog about a specific Twister-related issue affecting us and try to write my way into a solution. For the duration, I’m going to be more open to playing, more insistent on stretching, and more willing to get past my own hang-ups. I’ll pay more attention to what does and doesn’t work and less to the to-do list in my head. Sort of like my own dirty happiness project.

Oh, yea, I will not be telling my husband about this. I want to focus on my own head* to improve my own experience, thereby improving his, and (again) I don’t want to raise* his expectations any further.

{Because I’m all about the euphemism here, it’s unlikely I’ll ever get any readers through search engines given the unlikelihood of someone Googling for “Twister” when they’re interested in relationship s.e.x. stuff. This is obviously by design. So, if you like this series, do me a favor and pass it along – Tweet, email, link, whatever. It’s hard* to find real and honest discussions about this outside of pregnancy-related blogs and that’s a shame. Plus, the more of us involved in this discussion, the greater the chances we’ll find solutions from each other!}

*No pun intended.