What Do Study Habits Have to Do With Work?

I just figured out what my biggest problem was in college.  I studied too much. 

And how did I come to this revelation, you ask?  Especially now, since I’ve been out of school for quite some time, it seems like an odd thing to be concerned with.  If you look at my transcript – especially from undergrad – one would argue that I didn’t study enough.  Those grades sure don’t look like that of the next Einstein. 

I have to credit being laid-off for giving me the insight to see that I studied too much in college.  Try to follow me on this; I know I’m sounding like I’ve either pulled an all-nighter and need sleep or that I’ve lost my mind.  

When the lay-off hit, I began consulting.  I looked forward to setting my own hours and working from home instead of having to commute to an office each day.  Getting started wasn’t too difficult, and before long I had a few clients.  One thing led to another and my work expanded, including some very fulfilling personal projects.  Then I was offered a job that allowed me to work in the office several days a week, while maintaining one day a week for my personal projects.  It seemed like the best of both worlds.

That was more than a year ago, and now I’m exhausted.  While it is the “best of both worlds”, it’s more than a full schedule.  I’ve got four action-packed days at the office followed by three more work-filled days at home.  Somewhere in there I’m supposed to relax and have fun.  Yes, my work for the company is interesting but it’s also intense.  And while my personal projects are very fulfilling, they are also creative in nature and take more time to complete than I thought.  So it feels like I’m working seven days a week. All.The.Time. 

This is exactly the same thing that happened to me when it came to studying in college.  With demanding classes I felt like I should be studying every waking moment.  Sure I had fun, never missing a football game and working in time for friends, yet deep down it was hard for me to relax, even for a night.  It was the feeling that I had, that I needed to be studying rather than having fun that caused me so much stress. 

It’s the same stress I have now, like there’s so much to do that I can never stop working. With both of these great jobs I find myself unable to break away from work, even for a short time. The fear is that if I take time to have fun or take a day off, I’ll miss self-imposed deadlines or that I’ll never catch up.  I find myself not accepting social invitations because I know that I have work to do. Hmmm…this sounds familiar. Haven’t I seen this movie?

If I had been smart in college I would have learned how to handle this situation by paying attention to one of my friends.  On the surface it appeared that this very smart individual didn’t care about grades – and in some respect that’s true. It seemed as though he didn’t worry about studying and had lots of fun.  His approach? He figured out exactly what he needed to do to make the minimum passing grade – and he did that.  Not too smart, huh?  Actually it was brilliant, and I wish I’d followed his lead. He spent his extra time exploring other interests and thinking in a more entrepreneurial way about life after college rather than feeling guilty for not spending all his time studying.   Yes, he graduated. Not with honors but I’m pretty sure he doesn’t care.  Now a successful businessman, he’s flying his personal airplane around the country while I still have to hunt for air fares and fly commercial.

My hunch is that if I had allowed myself the freedom to take time off in college, without worry, that I would have been happier and my grades would have been no worse.  They might actually have been better, since I would have been rested and rejuvenated.   Yet here I am years later, struggling with the same issue again, this time without the threat of a poor GPA.  I simply can’t seem to let myself relax, even for one night.  Poor Hubby; we haven’t had a “date” in ages.  It’s no fun to go to a movie when all I want to do is check my email or scribble notes for one of my projects.  

Hard to believe it’s taken me all these years to figure it out.  Too bad I wasn’t smart enough to adjust my work/study habits while I was still in college.  Imagine the fun I would have had, the memories I would have made and the grades I would have seen at the end of each term.

Even now, I wonder what kind of great work I might accomplish, if I just allowed myself some time off?  It’s worth a try.

© Tami Cannizzaro 2012 All Rights Reserved

You're Not the Boss of Me

Little kids, especially toddlers, are fearless, aren’t they?  Not necessarily in a physical sense, like being unafraid of climbing the highest tree or skating downhill without a plan for stopping.  I’m thinking more about how they approach life.  While they understand a pecking order and that the very tall people (a.k.a. parents, older relatives, teachers) seem to make the rules, kids in general are willing to push limits with the tall people to make their voice heard in an attempt to get what they want. 

You know what I’m talking about.  There’s a phrase that I bet most children have shouted, muttered or pouted at one time or another. It’s usually uttered after a tall person has tried to tell them what to do.   With much foot stomping, tears, little fists held high and as much drama as they can muster, they let out “You’re not the boss of me!”

At this point, tall people – especially those who are not the parents – try to hide their laughter and maintain some sense of hierarchy to calm the one-person mutiny that is underway. 

While I don’t have kids of my own, I know this from my nieces and nephews.  Even my dog says “You’re not the boss of me”, although hers is more of an evil-eye, like “You may have stopped me from chewing the couch now, but I’ll leave you a present someday when you least expect it”. 

As adults, wouldn’t it be nice to have such a phrase to use at work?  I can see it now: sitting in a meeting with other execs, when the boss gives directions that no one wants to follow.  Wouldn’t it be great to say, “No, I’m not going to do that; you’re not the boss of me!”? 

Somehow I don’t think that would go over too well.

We are all used to the pecking order, and when a lay-off hits we find ourselves facing a new hierarchy.  Without a boss, I suddenly found myself in charge, especially since I began consulting.  Some call it self-motivation or being an entrepreneur, but all that really means is that you boss yourself. Great. It’s hard enough to have a boss or be a boss, but double the trouble if you are both employee and boss. Those conversations are pretty funny too.

“No, I’m not interested in working on this project”.  “But you have to; there’s no one else here to do it.”  “I’ll get to it when I feel like it.”  “No, you need to work on it now.”  “Don’t tell me what to do; I am the boss of me!”

These personal tantrums can go on indefinitely, with no one else to mediate.

At times I have felt like I have split personality disorder.  I’m sure the people at the local coffee house have wondered who I am talking to as I sit alone working on my laptop, having a heated discussion with no one about the work I am supposed to be doing.   

Unfortunately I AM the boss of me.  So I have to motivate myself to do work that sometimes I just don’t feel like doing.  How do I motivate myself?  Here are some tricks I use:

-          Set time limits. If I get my work done by X time, then I can go out to lunch vs. eating at home.  Food is always a good motivator for me.

-          Have small treats that feel like huge rewards.  For example, when I complete a certain portion of my work, I treat myself by spending 10 minutes sitting by the pool with the latest magazine.  Doesn’t sound like a lot of time, but even 10 minutes outside does wonders for me.  Besides, with temps in the triple digits, 10 minutes is about all I can take.

-          Sometimes I allow for “reverse motivation” – meaning, I’ll get up earlier than normal so I can read the paper over breakfast at the local coffee house (there’s that food motivator again).  It really doesn’t take much more time than eating at home, yet it feels like a wonderful treat to get motivated for the day. I mean, who doesn’t love a good pastry in the morning?

-          Schedule, schedule, schedule! Including other things during the work day, such as a specific time to go to the gym. The more things I have on my schedule, the more productive I actually become.  With deadlines to meet I know my work must be completed in order to make my gym time.  Of course, since I don’t like to go to the gym this can be counter-productive, although it does allow me to continue with my “morning treat” motivation listed above.    

Are these fool proof? No.  Do they prevent me from dilly-dallying and daydreaming, putting off work that needs to get done?  Sometimes, but not always.  Yet I need them to keep some sense of order, and provide some way to motivate myself to keep moving forward.  

Fun part is that I get to set the rules. After all, I am the boss of me.

© Tami Cannizzaro 2012 All Rights Reserved

Reading Between the Lines

I’m not good at reading between the lines. Vagueness or ambiguity is totally lost on me. That’s probably why I was not too good at dating.  Never understood why guys could not be honest and direct enough to say, “You’re nice but I’d just rather be friends”.  Tough words to hear, but much better than waiting to see if he’s going to call you again. 

This hasn’t changed for me, even in marriage. Hubby learned the hard way that it’s best to just man-up and tell me what’s on his mind.  Otherwise my mind will come up with all sorts of crazy notions about what he wants to say, which are usually wrong, and we’ll end up having a rather loud and lively “discussion” with tears flowing and the dog cowering under the bed.  Definitely not fun.  

When I started my career, business communications were right up my alley: clear, concise and direct.  I was expected to be tough and get the job done. Best to ask questions, recap meetings and lay it all out there so everyone understands the expectations. Doesn’t seem too hard, does it?  My mantra became, “say what you mean and mean what you say”. In a nice way, of course. There’s usually a way to get your point across without being rude. 

Some years ago I noticed a trend away from direct communications, even in business discussions.  Seems like everyone is afraid of offending others by being too direct, and in an attempt to be super nice, we’ve lost our ability to communicate with clarity. 

At work I’ve always said that if you want to ask me to lunch, just ask me.  If you come to my office and say, “I really like pizza”, I think you’re just making a statement – although sort of an odd one at work.  Never would I think that you are trying to tell me “grab your purse so we can head to the cafeteria”.

Why do I have to say “I’m reaching out to someone” instead of “I’m calling him”?  What does “so we’re good, right” mean?  Whatever happened to clearly stating what you need, so the recipient has a good understanding of your expectations?  At least with clear direction, the recipient can ask questions.  Some communications are so vague they are open for interpretation, which is not good for either side.

Recently I’ve noticed that I’m starting to move to “the dark side” in an attempt to fit in with the new corporate culture, using vague communications so as to not offend anyone with my direct-but-polite approach. Yet all this has done is got me in trouble.  A recent email I sent went something like this:

What I said: “Based on yesterday’s discussion, we need to organize and host the upcoming meeting. Would you like to take the lead on this?”  Notice my super-nice phrase, “take the lead” – nothing wrong here, right? After all, I wouldn’t want to insult the recipient by spelling out my expectations, would I?

What I meant: “Will you be the point person to manage this project and all that’s included to see this to completion, such as inviting attendees, developing the agenda, ordering food and preparing the presentation or assigning others to help in the presentation?”     

The response I got: I would love to be there, thanks for inviting me. I’d be happy to show them around the office.

HUH?  This person either totally misunderstood my uber-polite email, which is scary in itself, OR this is an uber-polite-yet-so-subtle-that-I-don’t-get-it way of saying, “No, I’m not able to/interested in taking the lead on this project”.   

I used to think this was mainly an issue with younger people, those who have been brought up never hearing the word “no”, always believing they are “winners”, the ones with parents who coddled them a bit too much.  But I’ve noticed it in older employees too.  Maybe it’s a function of career path – I started out in a traditional, well-established business environment that had structure, and clear communication may have been easier to learn than if my career had begun at a small start-up company where things were done on the fly without much organization. 

However this trend began, I know I’m not a fan.  Seems like we’re either writing fluffy emails or tip-toeing around with our spoken words, fearful that we may come across as negative or hurt someone’s feelings if we use more direct communication. The result is often misunderstanding and confusion and we end up spending more time trying to clarify our meaning than if we had been clear and concise to begin with. Ugh.

Say what you mean and mean what you say. That’s all I’m gonna say.

© Tami Cannizzaro 2012 All Rights Reserved

 

Zombie Spinning

It sounded like a good idea at the time.  Hubby had been doing it for months and suggested I join him at an early morning spin class at the gym.  With class starting before the sun came up, I thought I could get my exercise for the day with plenty of time to get ready for work.  Sounded like a plan to me.

Before I go further, let me state that I have never been a morning person.  I love the morning; it’s just that my body clock seems best suited for staying up late and consequently, sleeping late.  In the evening, when most people are slowing down, I’m getting my second wind.  If I’m not careful, I find myself gaining energy and forgetting about the late hour.   

The challenge, though, is making time for the gym in the evening.  Sometimes it’s hard to put things down, get home, eat dinner, walk the dog and get to the gym before it closes.  Yeah, I know – we should probably join a 24-hour gym.  But ours is convenient and you know that’s a big factor when it comes to working out.

So Hubby’s invitation to get up early was intriguing.  He’s also a late-night person, and I figured if he could get up early for the gym then so could I.  My alarm was set, I’d picked out my clothes for the morning, I was in bed at a decent hour – this should work, I thought. 

As soon as my head hit the pillow the alarm went off.  At least that’s the way it felt to me.  Peeking one eye out from the covers, I noticed it was still night time.  Dang phone alarm – must be broken.  I hit the obnoxious thing and it stopped buzzing.   Yet ten minutes later it went off again.  Looking more closely, I realized that it was time to get up for the gym.  Ugh – why did I agree to this? 

I fumbled around and got ready, splashing cold water on my face, rubbing my eyes, touching my toes – anything to try and wake up.  “Hubby, are you ready?” I asked.  Zzzzzzzzz – was all I heard in the dark bedroom.   “I’m not going this morning,” he said. “I stayed up too late last night.”  Are you kidding me?  Here I am, up, dressed and barely conscious, so we can have a bonding experience at the gym and you’ve decided to sleep-in?  

I decided to go anyway.  It seemed wrong to be at the gym to watch the sun rise, but there were a few cars in the lot.   Most of the spin bikes were already occupied with people peddling away as though being chased by a rabid dog – and the class hadn’t started yet.  In a daze, I found an open bike and sat down, pretending to be awake.  I wondered if they served coffee – now that would be a plus.

“Okay everyone – let’s spin!” the instructor shouted.  “Turn your dials up!  Now jump!  Let’s sprint!”  Sprint?  To where?  While spinning is a great work out, it’s also an exercise in frustration. You pedal for an hour and never get anywhere.   I was pedaling for all I was worth yet still in the gym. 

Sweating profusely yet happy that I was getting my workout done, I was convinced the class was half over. Glancing at my watch I realized we’d only been spinning for 10 minutes.   I closed my eyes and tried to listen to the music; I think I actually fell asleep while pedaling.  My legs were numb and my eyes were only half open. 

Who are these people at the gym in the wee hours of the morning?  And the instructor was way too happy for such an early hour.   She’s the same ultra-bendy person who tries to teach me yoga, and who I had just seen at the gym less than twelve hours earlier.  I’m convinced that she’s a very attractive zombie – zombies don’t ever sleep, do they?

This is why I don’t accept a job that requires me to be at work at an early hour.  I’m not productive early in the morning, even in an exercise class with music blaring.  It’s important to know one’s strengths and weaknesses, and I am fully aware that my body clock doesn’t wake up early.  No amount of caffeine will do; it’s best if I work at a company that allows me to arrive at a decent hour.

No zombie jobs for me; I’m looking for something with a 9:00 start time.  And no spinning involved.

© Tami Cannizzaro 2012 All Rights Reserved

Vacation Brain

Ahhh…vacation!  The time to get away from it all. To refresh and re-energize.  Yep, I’m one of “those” people, the kind who believes in taking a true vacation to get away from everything for a week or so.  No checking email, no calling the office. I tell the people I work with, “If the building burns, save yourself and tell me about it when I get back”.  No sense telling me when I’m not there to do anything about it.

Never have understood the concept of a “working vacation” either – isn’t that an oxymoron?  If I’m going to spend the money for a vacation I want to enjoy it – sans work.

Funny thing is that my family didn’t really take vacations.  A couple times we accompanied dad on a business trip to Florida; along the way we’d wait for him in the car or at a restaurant while he called on clients, eventually ending up at the beach for a couple days.  Every few years Sis and I would go to Grandma’s in Minnesota, but that was it.  No weekends at the lake, no ski vacations, no trips just for fun.  I learned about the beauty of a vacation after business school, when I had friends living in other cities.  Those friends would say, “Come visit sometime” – and whether they meant it or not, I took them up on the offer.  (Note to all of you: if you say “come visit”, know that at some point I will do just that)

It wasn’t always easy for me to take a vacation.  I was (and sometimes still am) plagued by worries: what if something “big” happens while I’m gone? What if someone needs me? What if, what if, what if?   Early on I had a great boss who heard me lamenting the “what ifs” and wisely told me, “there is NOTHING that will happen in your absence that we can’t fix when you get back”.   Logic told me she was right and I’ve tried to remember that ever since.

Last week was it – vacation time!  An entire week of fun at our favorite resort with no work in sight, and it was beyond great.  Vacation Brain kicked in for both Hubby and I as soon as we left for the airport, a definite signal that it was time to relax. We read, talked, swam, lounged and were generally lazy.  Work Brain was nowhere to be seen, as it should be during vacation.  

As with all good things, our trip came to an end far too soon and my Vacation Brain reluctantly started powering down while my Work Brain tried to wake from a nice nap.  At the airport, Work Brain said it would be a good idea to download my emails so I could at least scan them on the plane.  Sounded logical, so I tried to log-on.  Note I said “tried” – for the life of me I couldn’t remember my log-in info.  Vacation Brain clearly was still in command.  After some time, I finally remembered and logged in – a small victory for Work Brain. 

Hubby was having difficulty too.  Wanting to initiate a call with a co-worker, he started to send an email with his cell number – but Vacation Brain forbade him from remembering his own number. Work Brain, unfortunately, reminded him that I had his phone number in my phone. 

Once I was online, Work Brain commanded that I look at my in-box. Yikes – how could one person have that many emails in just a week?  My mind raced as Vacation Brain was desperate to keep me in resort mode.  Looking at the subject lines, I tried to recall what I was working on when I left town.  My mind was sputtering, with a vague memory of some projects but not enough for the emails to make complete sense.  And who ARE all these people, wanting answers from me?  Do I work with them?  I could feel the tension in my head as Work Brain fought to recover information from a week ago, while Vacation Brain attempted to keep all that information hidden.  Back and forth, the battle for control raged in my head as I read the emails, trying to make sense of it all.  Once the plane landed, Work Brain started a victory dance, knowing that as soon as we exited the jet way Vacation Brain was history. 

Sigh. Why is it always like this? Within seconds of returning from vacation, it’s as though we never left at all.  I enjoy my work but I really do cherish the little bit of vacation I take and I would love for the feeling to last longer than a nanosecond. 

Good news is the office didn’t burn.  At least I don’t think it did.

© Tami Cannizzaro 2012 All Rights Reserved

Ponytail Alert

Ever feel like you’re living in a Dilbert cartoon?  I have. The “pointy-haired boss” who is so clueless about his business and employees always makes me laugh.    Over the years there have been many instances where I was convinced that the cartoons were inspired by the company I was working for. 

And of course there’s Michael from the sitcom, The Office.  Unlike Dilbert’s pointy-haired boss, Michael is ‘arrogantly clueless’.  That’s almost worse – he thinks he knows everything but really just makes work harder for all involved.
 
Classic among the females is Meryl Streep’s character in The Devil Wears Prada.  Now this one actually gives me chills.  Reminds me of my first few years in the workforce, working in the high-pressured world of fashion.  I remember one boss in particular.  She was one of the smartest women I’ve ever worked for.  She was also a tad difficult.  A bit of a character, Boss had a habit of playing with her shoulder-length hair while she was working.  She always wore a rubber band on her wrist, and as she became stressed she would use the rubber band to tie her hair back into a ponytail.  The higher the ponytail, the more stressed she was.  And her personality changed with the ponytail, becoming more terse and harder to deal with.  So our department instituted the “ponytail alert”.  If anyone witnessed the ponytail – especially if it was high on her head – that person became like Paul Revere and alerted the rest of the department so we could avoid the wrath that came with the ponytail.
 
I was working with Boss on a project one time, and I had to run to my office for some information. When I came back, not only had she put her hair in a ponytail, but it was straight on top of her head!  I remember trying to remain calm, get my assignment and exit her office as quickly as possible.
 
Had another boss who was so clueless that he had me write my own review. I guess this is not unheard of, except during said review he asked me, in all seriousness, to complete the section with his comments – he was too clueless about my job to even write a comment on my review.  Good news for me though. I wrote rave comments and received a nice raise.
 
My rule as a boss is to help my team as much as possible. I want them to want my job, and if I provide the correct guidance they should become skilled enough to get promoted.  Paramount to being a good boss, in my opinion, is to provide as much open and honest communication as possible.  Confidentiality trumps openness on occasion, but most of the time it works.  Even when it means conveying bad news.  People can handle bad news; they just need to know what it is.  Nothing is worse than not knowing.
 
Over the years I’ve had great bosses, bad bosses and many in between.  Ponytail Boss was not the worst, although she remains a classic.  I’ve tried to come up with my version of “types of bosses” – see what you think. And whatever you do, try to avoid being one of “them”.

Types of Bosses:
 
Mr. Clueless – The guy who somehow got promoted, although it’s hard to figure out why.  Has no understanding of what it actually takes to get his job done, much less yours.  If he realizes his own shortcomings, working for this guy can be good as he’ll step out of the way and let you go.  Of course, he’ll also step out of the way and let you take the fall – after all, he’s clueless.

The Ostrich – This boss buries his head in sand and hopes that things just go away. Always a good approach, if you never want to take responsibility or get things done. Also a good approach if you want your team to be constantly frustrated.

The Constant Visionary – This is the guy who’s always thinking of new ideas yet never realizes that at some point, a decision needs to be made and action has to be taken. Business is suddenly standing still, trapped in a never-ending cycle of hope for action, due to the constant stream of visions that appear to this boss. He calls them "creative ideas".  You call them “roadblocks”.  It's a fine line.

The Smooth Talker – This boss appears to be highly respected by others in the company, and at first you agree.  His presentations are stellar and he exudes just the right amount of poise and confidence.  Others are envious that they are not under his guidance. Everyone leaves his meetings inspired, ready for action.  Once back at the desk, it doesn’t take long for people to realize that he sounded good but he didn’t really say anything. At least anything of substance.

The Withholder of Information – A very difficult boss, he has all the information because he attends meetings (without you) yet consistently fails to share that information when dumping projects on you.  Of course he’s probably fearful that he may lose “power” if he shares his knowledge.  Funny thing is that power is in the mind of the beholder.

The Clairvoyant Leader - Rather than providing direction, this boss uses nice phrases like "I'm open to your suggestions" and "let's see what you come up with", lulling you into a false sense of security that he is truly open to your ideas. When you provide your report, he unleashes all sorts of tirades on you because you could not read his mind and your work is "not at all what he wanted".  This leaves you to review your job description to see if “mind reader” was a pre-requisite for the job. No a magic eight ball won't work either. I’ve tried.

 

© Tami Cannizzaro 2012 All Rights Reserved

Wimbledon Warriors

Sometimes you just have to get outside and see the sun.  Sunday was one of those days.  It was perfect. Sunny and warm with a crystal clear sky lacking the haze that comes when it’s too hot here in Texas – which is almost every day from June through August. These are rare days; days that should not be wasted inside in front of a computer.  According to a friend, there are only “14 perfect days” in a given year where we live and I’m sure this was one of them. Rats, only thirteen good days left this year.

I convinced Hubby that we both could use a break from all the things we “should” be doing: laundry, writing, consulting work, searching job boards.  Let’s spend an hour outside, I said.  We could have fun and get some exercise at the same time.   Tennis, anyone?

First step: search for tennis rackets. Found them exactly where one would expect sports equipment to live, in the craft room.  Did I mention we hadn’t played in a while?

Tennis balls became another issue.  We did find a can of tennis balls, however they had zero bounce.  Lucky for us we have a dog. After rifling through Kylie’s toy baskets and searching the backyard, we had three balls that at least resembled tennis balls.  Not sure that Pet Smart really makes a good tennis ball, but hey, it looked OK.  The pink rubber squeaky nubby ball was included as a back-up.

With rackets, an assortment of tennis-like balls and a jug of water, we were off to the tennis courts at the school.  We were thrilled to see that the courts were vacant and surprised others in the neighborhood were not taking advantage of one of the “fourteen perfect days”.

Hubby and I are pretty equally matched when it comes to sports, except he’s better at softball and I excel at shooting pool.  With both of us at fear-inducing heights of 5’2” and 5’5”, we are not powerhouses at hoops.  So tennis is a good game for us.

Once on the court we decided the goal was simply to keep the ball going for as long as possible, playing for household bragging rights.  Hubby went first, dropping the ball, reaching back and swinging the racket, making contact.  Too bad the ball didn’t understand the goal was to go over the net.  Ha! I could tell bragging rights would be mine. 

Telling him to stand back, I served and the volley was on!  I’m not really sure what happened next, except to say that my eyes saw the ball coming at me to the right, my mind said “move” – but my feet and legs were like lead weights stuck in place.  The ball whizzed past me as Hubby yelled, “Why didn’t you move?” Point: Hubby.

Game on, pal! My competitive edge kicked in. No way was Hubby going to win. It was my idea to go outside, my idea to play tennis.  We started again, and this time I made sure my legs went the same direction as my eyes.   Running towards the ball, I stretched to make the shot.  “Ouch!” I cried out, as my hamstring pulled tight and I began what can only be described as a failed attempt at a one-footed moon walk.   “What is it?” yelled Hubby. “Are you hurt?” 

No, I always do this dance when I’m in the middle of a game.  Duh.

Determined to enjoy this perfect day, I soldiered on.  We both did.  We hit the ball. We tried to run.  At one point we actually had fourteen consecutive “hits” before the ball took a nose-dive into the net.  After thirty minutes we took a water break.  Sweating, heart racing, unable to lift the large jug of water to even get a drink, I looked at Hubby and said “what happened to us?”  Of course we immediately blamed our rusty skills on the lay-offs, new work and the fact that we were not used to such nice weather. 

Back on the court, we continued to try and regain the skills we knew we once had.  We switched sides, each convinced that the other had an advantage solely based on the side of the court.  That’s when I discovered his side of the court held a treasure trove of sunbaked Cheerios, which I’m sure he had been hiding from me.  No wonder he had energy; he was on a Cheerio high. Never mind that they had probably been there for months. 

We never bested our fourteen consecutive hits, working at it for another half an hour before deciding that our poor performance was the direct result of using the dog’s toys as tennis balls.  We decided it was unfair of us, really, to take the dog’s toys and headed home.  

It was great to get out of the house and away from the grind of work and job-search.  Our muscles are still sore and we may never move with ease again, but at least we enjoyed one of the fourteen perfect days.  

© Tami Cannizzaro 2012 All Rights Reserved