On the Fence about Train

In the epic debate of Train versus Maroon 5, I am firmly on the side of Train.  I have already documented Maroon 5's history of disturbing, misogynistic lyrics.  And I've liked Train since their early "Meet Virginia" days.  It's a fun, quirky song.  And then they had "Drops of Jupiter" -- still quirky, but possibly with more meaning to it.  And we can't forget "Soul Sister."  It literally has a refrain of Leonard's uncle's band -- what's not to like?  And "Save Me, San Francisco"?  Fantastic.  Hell, Train has even put out wines with names that complement their songs, and even my mother-in-law enjoys them.

But sometimes,....sometimes Pat Monaghan and the gang really test my loyalty.  I have to wonder if the Train boys sometimes think, "Hey, I wonder what would happen if we took X and added Z, but then did Y?"  Like, they purposely set out to riff off of another song, but not quite.  Music isn't algebra, friends.  And just because you can do something doesn't mean you should.  Case in point:  Train's "50 Ways to Say Goodbye."

The title clearly indicates that this is their "version" of Paul Simon's "50 Ways to Leave Your Lover" (or "love your lever," as the Muppets prefer it); however, while Simon's song is about leaving/breaking up, Train's song takes a darker turn (despite an attempt at levity) by documenting all the different way to say said ex-lover died:

She went down in an airplane
Fried getting suntan
Fell in a cement mixer full of quicksand
Help me, help me, I'm no good at goodbyes!
She met a shark under water
Fell and no one caught her

So, not exactly a family-friendly interpretation of Paul Simon's classic, I guess.  But it gets worse because now we have to talk about the actual music.

Using our algebra problem from before, it goes something like this:  "Let's take 'Phantom of the Opera,' add a mariachi band, and then 'pay homage' to Paul Simon's song!"  If you don't believe me, here is the actual sheet music for comparison:

Up first, Andrew Lloyd Webber's "Phantom of the Opera" from my "Easy Piano" book from high school (stop judging me!):

I know it's a little hard to read, but I did highlight the notes for you.  In the key of D minor (one flat), we have:

• A
• D
• A
• C
• B flat
• B flat

And now the Train music (most of which is previews because I wasn't willing to buy an entire song just for the exercise of this blog post):

We definitely nailed the mariachi part as it's even noted here (marked inred). Again, I highlighted the notes for you, in the key of Eb Minor:

• B
• E
• B
• B
• C
• C
• A
• D
• A
• A
• B
• B

The music theory scholars among you (which I am absolutely note) will probably already notice the similarities.  But we can transpose the music (thanks again, MusicNotes.com!) and get, well, the exact same listing at the ALW song:

And it really gets going when ALW gets to the lyrics "And do I dream again? For now I find" and Pat sings "You said it's meant to be / That it's not you, it's me / You're leaving now for my own good."  

Okay, fine, it's not the exact same notes as there are some minor differences¹ (pun intended), but if you don't listen to the Train song and not want to singing "The Phaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaantom OfTheOperaIsHeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeere," I don't know what to do with you.

But that's not all.  Then Train came out with another pop-y song that had a distinct 1960s bubble-gum sound to it.  And I couldn't quite place it...

Oh fuck me, it's "Heart & Soul"!!!  We all learned to play it fairly soon in our (however short-lived) piano-playing careers, especially after this scene came out in 1988:

C'mon, Train!  That just seems like you were out of fucks to give and again decided to play musical algebra.  And I might be willing to forgive if the lyrics were interesting or clever.  But:

Play that song
The one that makes me go all night long
The one that makes me think of you
That's all you gotta do

Hey, mister DJ when you gonna spin it
My baby's favorite record she been waiting for a minute
She invited all her friends and I'm buying all the rounds
And they're all dolled up

DJ please don't let me down
When you gonna play that song, now
When you gonna earn that pay
When you gonna play that song and make my day

I'm gonna go ahead and ignore the sexual connotations of "makes me go all night long" for now and move on to the horrible position he's putting the DJ in.  It's cool to request songs, but when you start badgering the DJ to play the song(s) you want, they will put you at the bottom of the list real quick (if not ignore you altogether).

It's not his/her fault you apparently are trying to impress your girlfriend and her friends with...what?  Your relationship with the DJ?  If you really want to impress her, you could try playing (actual) music yourself, rather than relying on a DJ to do your dirty work.  Y'know, especially since "they're all dolled up" (read:  "What the fuck does their appearance have to do with anything in the context of this song?!?")

And since you took "Heart & Soul" to write this song, does this mean your "baby's favorite record" is..."Heart & Soul"?  If so, you may want to reevaluate some things, including this particular romantic relationship.

And it's shit like this, Train, that makes me look foolish for continuing to pick you over Maroon 5.  Next up:  Why Matchbox 20 is better than both of you².

¹ I could go further into the music analysis, but frankly, even I'm bored already.
² Not really.  I mean I love their music, too, but I don't have a compelling argument to make.  I just wanted an excuse to include the Saturday Night Live sketch "Maroon 5 versus Train," but I can't find it online :-(

Whole Foods: A Christmas Story

On Saturday, December 23^rd, I had to brave Whole Foods in order to pick up our order for Christmas Eve dinner with the family.  You should know that, in no particular order:

• I dislike shopping
• I dislike new and/or unfamiliar places
• I dislike Whole Foods and the sensory overload it provides
• I dislike crowds
• I dislike people
• I dislike crowds of people when I'm forced to go shopping

Last year's run to Whole Foods around the same time for the same stuff ended up like this (per my FB feed):

 rain, traffic, Whole Foods and trying to keep my panic attack at least until I reach the car (complete with white knuckles, fingering my paper list to self-soothe, and talking to myself like the mentally ill person that I am), waiting, more traffic, more rain, getting lost/turned around, canceling my hair appointment last minute because I was still stuck on the highway with a trunk full of Christmas groceries and there was no way I'd make it on time (or close to on time), crying the rest of the way home (hello, panic attack), unpacking groceries and toys amidst dogs and cats.

So I knew what was in store (pun intended) for me.  Unlike last year, I knew better than to attempt to plan more than this shopping trip in one day.  Even when I used to have to go grocery shopping (is no longer my job), I would attempt to do nothing else so that I wasn't in any sort of hurry.

I remembered the way to Whole Foods, and the parking lot wasn't crazy.  I walked inside, and it wasn't crazy either.

Okay, this might not be so bad.

I had my list in hand to remind me what to get.  Even if I'm only going to Walgreens I have to have a list; otherwise, I'll end up tunnel-visioned, wandering up and down aisles, often forgetting what I came in for (and ending up with a bunch of other random shit).

I picked up the crab legs we ordered ✔
I wandered a bit looking for wine ✔

And what is that delicious smell tickling my nostrils?  It's the bakery.  I held off on heading that direction, knowing that our cake would be the last item I got before hitting the check-out.

I wandered several more aisles, often repeating myself, looking for various snacks and household items.

Finally, the bakery again.  I could still smell fresh bread baking and my stomach was growling.  I looked at the fresh breads available for purchase, wondering which one was making the smell I was smelling.  For a brief moment, I considered sniffing every type of loaf available...

I decided on a "French round" loaf.  Then I went search for something creamy and spreadable on this decadent bread.  I ended up with a creamy Gorgonzola (sold to me by the lady behind the counter wearing a Star Wars shirt, so I knew I was in good company).
I then picked up our cake ✔

And I headed to the check-out lines.

Oh, here's where all the people are!

No wonder the store didn't seem too crowded or crazy; everyone was waiting with their carts to check out.  I found a spot in the nearest line and proceeded to wait.  Back before the days of smartphones (and when I still had to do the grocery shopping), I would usually amuse myself with People Magazine or a tabloid or something (anything!) to read while waiting in line, soothing myself in my head that I was fine because I had no other place to be.

I took a deep breath and tried that plan for today, using my phone to amuse myself instead.  The Express line was moving along alright, but I am not one of those assholes who goes into that line with more than the listed number of allowed items.

And other lines picked up the pace a bit.
But not mine.

And the woman in front of me kept trying to make eye contact with me while she huffed or harrumphed -- y'know, like you do when trying for that "We're all in this together" attitude or "It's us versus them; aren't they the worst!" thing that happens sometimes in public.  "Mutual misery."
But I wasn't having it.

Yes, this particular checker was incredibly slow; there was no doubt about it.  But I was not in a hurry; I had nowhere else to be.  So I would either ignore her (the woman, not the checker) or smile blandly at her and then go back to my phone.

Harrumphing and rolling eyes isn't going to make the line move any faster.  And for that matter, the woman in front of me could have changed lines at any time.  I didn't.  I stayed, mentally patting myself on the back for leaving the other, faster lines for people who clearly had more important things to do.

At about the fourth or fifth harrumph, she did catch the eye of the older man behind me whose response was, "I just want to be home in time for Christmas" (it was the 23^rd).  Whatever.  I ignored them all (and probably spent 25-30 minutes just standing line).

After I checked out, I headed back out to the bright parking lot -- and could not remember at all where I had parked my car.

While I was wandering down the first aisle of cars, I heard, "Excuse me?  Can I ask you something?"  And I turned to find a young woman who had clearly been crying recently standing there.
"Sure," I say.

"Umm, we're from [a nearby small town] and we're living in a Wal-Mart parking lot and I'm just trying to get some food to eat and it's not going so well..."

Several thoughts occurred to me, almost simultaneously:

• Some of my friends prepare "care packs" for just this very thing (I haven't)
• Some friends know the names and numbers of shelters and outreaches and are prepared (I wasn't)
• Wow, begging in this area of town is very unusual
• I rarely carry cash
• I happen to be carrying cash right now, pure coincidence

I don't even know if she got to the part about asking for money, but I said, "Sure" and took the small wad of cash I (very coincidentally) had in my wallet, maybe $7 or $8, I honestly don't know and I didn't look.  I just handed it to her and she said, "Thank you" and "have a good rest of your day."

And then I was stuck still trying to find my car.  In the 5-10 minutes it took me to finally find my vehicle (Wow, I found a much better parking spot than I remembered!), I thought some other things like

• Maybe she was lying?
• Maybe I just gave her money for drugs?
• Should I have bought her a sandwich instead?
• Why was I not prepared?
• Maybe she's a just a good actress?
• I don't care.

And I didn't care about any of the above; it seemed like the right and convenient thing to do, so I did it.  And I eventually found my car.

And while putting the groceries into the trunk, the handle of one bag broke right off!

I caught the bottom of the bag with my cat-like reflexes before it hit the pavement -- it was the bag with 2 of my 4 bottles of wine it.  Thank you little baby Jesus!  It's a Christmas miracle.

After that, I made it home without incident and managed to unload groceries, also without incident.  After all of the above excitement, though, I decided I was going to do nothing but eat cheese and bread and wine for the rest of the day.

And I did.

I regret nothing.

P.S.  There is no moral to this story, no heartfelt holiday message.  It simply is what happened on December 23^rd, 2017.

The Good Ol' Days...of Parental Abandonment

And now an excerpt from my mom's holiday email:

Bet you didn't know I bought and then returned and got something else for you. Maybe even three times. Because I thought THAT thing would be the best thing. Once I even drove over to [a store] from [our duplex in a completely different area] to get in on the best price and while they still had one (whatever it was). Did I say it was 12:00 at night? This was the year stores started to be open 24 hours.  Fortunately, you were still sleeping when I got home.

Ahh, the good ol' days of the 1980s.  Sometimes I'm amazed my siblings and I survived at all.  But she was right; I did not know that.

Arachnophobia

In the old house, pre-Treepocalypse, this once happened.

My Unit: "...and there was a big fucking spider under the fridge that was alive. It may have been -- what's the kind with the fiddle on its back?"
Me: "A brown recluse. Was it a brown recluse?"
My Unit: "I don't think it was brown enough. I just saw something red on it before I sprayed it [with vinegar]."
Me: "That would be a black widow."
My Unit: "I don't know..."
Me: "Did it look like this?" Bringing up spider images on the computer.
My Unit: "I don't know! I already sprayed it."
Me: "Did it....look like Scarlett Johansson?"

Brown Bag, Indeed

When I was still teaching, I used to insist on having some kind of adorable lunch box to take with me.  And when my Unit was home, she would sometimes put together a lunch for me while I got ready for the day.

"Hey, I put some snacks together for you for today."
"Thank you!"
"But I had to throw away that kiwi you had in there."
"...kiwi?"
"Yeah." 

Eyes widening with realization.

"That wasn't a kiwi.  That was," {gulp} "the artist formerly known as an orange."

Unit immediately throws everything -- snacks, lunchbox, everything -- into the trash can.

"You need to buy a new lunch box."

The Joys of Working from Home

So sometimes you're loading dishes into the dishwasher (while on your "lunch break"), and Dogzilla comes to "help" (she likes to lick the dirty plates and silverware). And then WHOOSH! Suddenly the bottom rack is yanked right out of the dishwasher!
...because something is snagged on Dogzilla's collar, and then she's freaking out because an entire rack of dishes is following her, and you're trying to get her to be still to un-snag the offensive item from her collar. But she manages to violently wrangle herself free, breaking one of your nice(r) wine glasses in the process. So then you have to keep everyone calm and sitting still and DON'T WALK THERE! while you clean up broken glass from the kitchen floor.

Good thing I go back to the office tomorrow.

The Miracle of Laundry (and Tiny Games)

One Christmas, we decided to go to the West Coast for the holiday.  And by "we," I mean my Unit and her family.  Five adults (me, my Unit, Unit's sister and brother-in-law, Unit's mother) and two small children (Unit's niece and nephew, aged 2 and 6 at the time) all sharing a small beach house on the Oregon coast.  If you're thinking "That sounds like a disaster," you're right; we now refer to it as "the worst Christmas ever" (and by "we" I really mean "me").

There were a lot of things that went wrong during that week, but this is not that story.  And there were a lot of things that stressed me out when all I wanted to do was sleep, eat, knit, and relax (having just closed my sixth show of the year literally days earlier and my first year and a half of grad school), but this is only partially that story.

During our week-long holiday/vacation/forced interactions, my sister-in-law kept doing laundry (among other things).  We were staying in a house, not a hotel, so we had laundry facilities and a full kitchen and other regular house-type things that we all had to share.  And it seemed like she was constantly doing laundry, particularly for her two children.

Now I know kids can through a lot of clothes during the day, especially infants.  But these weren't infants, so why was she constantly doing laundry?  And my stressed-out-on-vacation self was all, Who the fuck does laundry on vacation?  Did you not pack enough clothing for all six days?  Did you just bring dirty clothes with you?  Hey, I did that a time or two in college when going home for a holiday or break.

I did not and could not understand the rationale, especially as it seemed to be one of the many things stressing her out, which in turn, stressed everyone else out.

Now let's fast-forward to six years later -- to August, 2016, to be exact.  My Unit and I are just barely recovering from Treepocalypse 2016.  On August 2^nd, we moved into an actual house ("temporary housing" from our insurance company), after spending weeks in both her mom's one-bedroom house and a hotel room.  We walked into a new, larger house, completely furnished -- but none of the furniture (or linens or dishes or housewares or ANYTHING) was ours.  A week or so after that, we were able to get the first portion of our items from the storage company, including clothes and MY SHOES.

And somewhere in there, somewhere between moving into the house with my bags and suitcases from the hotel and getting boxes of items from the storage company, I started doing laundry.  The "temporary" house included a washer and dryer, on the main level no less!  No more walking up and down stairs into a possibly creepy basement for clean things.  So I washed nearly everything I could.  And dried it.  And I happily folded things and stored them neatly in our new (to us) temporary dressers and closets and drawers.

And it dawned on me:  I know why* she was doing laundry!  I finally understood.

Because when things are chaos, laundry is one thing I can control.  When things are chaos, if I can at least get my clothes clean and put away, that will make me feel grounded and at home, at little less "all over the place" and a whole lot less like I'm living out of a suitcase.  That one small thing is done and clean and fresh and "ready to start the day" (or week or month or whatever).  The entire house (literally or metaphorically) might be a mess, but my clothes are clean and in their proper place.
I could have agency over this one part of my life.

And I've come to realize it's also why I often play tiny stupid games on the computer (in the "time management" genre):  because it's one small thing I can control -- a thing I can control and often complete.  They provide a wee sense of accomplishment (as does clean laundry), even if the tiny game is ultimately useless. 

It only took six years, but I finally understood the miracle of laundry.

*Either that, or she really did not bring enough clothes for her kids -- fuck if I know.