All Or Nothing

Oh, Cody

Well, it has been a while since he's graced us with the material for one of these stories.  I guess we were due.

It all started a couple of weeks ago when Cody started a new rotation at a clinic in a town about 30 miles from where we live.  Because he was going to be getting up at least 45 minutes earlier than normal, we attempted to get into SOMEWHAT of a routine at night.  (For past attempts at routine, see this, this or this).

Cody is a night owl, and all attempts to determine what I am (night owl/early bird) have failed.  If I have to get up early, I am most certainly NOT a night owl, but am more of whatever type of species you imagine being horribly snarly and mean.  If I can sleep late, then I am happy to stay up til whenever.  Cody doesn't care if he has to get up early - actually he DOES care, but all attempts for him to override his natural compulsion to stay up late are generally met with failure.  He tries to go to bed, but always finds something more interesting to do, like watching SportsCenter or losing his keys. 

This perfect storm of disorganization results in the evening "routine" Cody and I have developed over the nearly four years we've been married.  Sometime between 7-10pm we eat something, and usually we're watching television while eating and/or after we're done eating.  Either that or we've gone out to eat somewhere, and may or may not even come back home until 10:30-11.  Sometimes we forget about eating until really late, and then Cody tells me that he's hungry.  Those are the nights I feel like a REALLY good wife.

We end up watching things that have backed up on our Tivo until at least midnight, and it's only then that either one of us even thinks about STARTING the true bedtime routine; a complicated dance that involves the following:

• Locating and bringing inside Sophie, the outside cat
• Chasing Jill (the mean cat) out from under the guest-room bed and into the laundry room
• Thawing the raw meat patties to feed Lydah (which is, as Cody puts it, "an up-at-dawn, pride-swallowing siege")
• Taking Lydah out and making her go to the bathroom so that she doesn't wake us up at 3am by standing over us in bed, panting
• Getting into bed 

Of course Cody has to have a movie playing in the bedroom DVD to fall asleep, a habit I HATED when we first got married but have now gotten completely used to and hardly even notice.  It was a good trade for me anyway, because the habit he had to lose out on in the compromise was the one where he set his alarm clock like, over an hour early and HIT THE SNOOZE, EVERY FIVE MINUTES, FOR OVER AN HOUR.  Boy, those were the days.

(The habit I had to lose was listening to soft music as I fell asleep.  I know, who would EVER WANT TO DO THAT?)

Anyway.  By the time we've stopped watching back episodes of It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia and finished the bedtime routine, it's easily 1am.  And I don't care, because I hardly ever have to be up early in the morning but Cody does care, because he has to be up early every day.  And you might think that he would catch on to the fact that every day he has to be up early, and every night he stays up late, and therefore every morning he is miserable, but you would be wrong.  Each night it's like a brand-new misery; he looks at the bedside clock, reads off some permutation of "AM", and gets all upset.

Recently, though, with the new clinic rotation and added insult of a 45 minute drive every morning, Cody decided to make a change.  I fully support all of Cody's "change" decisions (for their entertainment value if nothing else), and so I happily went along.  Plus, I already have my doubts about how I'll ever make it as a mom (see: total disorganization, lack of routine, staying up late, sleeping late, needing my sleep desperately), and I kind of feel like I NEED to get on a good routine as far as normal sleep/wake habits.

11-11:30pm was decided upon as the bedtime goal, and for the past couple of weeks, I'd say that we've hit that goal at least 70% of the time - a success, in my opinion.  It's still hard though, to get up earlier than you're used to, and since Cody's been having to do that, I've been fielding all 3am Lydah bathroom breaks.  She's just so annoying, that dog.  I know it's probably our fault, feeding her so late and then expecting her little system to do a digestive miracle a mere 20 minutes after she's eaten, but geez.  Can't she hold it 8 hours? 

No.  No, she can't.  And when she decides she wants to go, she does this awful thing where she walks around on the bed, stepping on all our limbs, and then finally squeezes herself in between our heads, sitting upright, panting loudly.  Since Cody can sleep through a tornado (and has, actually! another story for another day!) I am ALWAYS the one woken up by hot dog breath on my face.  (Sidenote: foreshadowing for future midnight baby feedings, anyone?)

Normally we fight over who has to take her out, a fight which involves me waking up, Lydah panting heavily, Cody sleeping peacefully, me getting annoyed that he's somehow managing to stay asleep, me kicking Cody and telling him to take Lydah out, and him saying okay and then rolling over and falling back asleep immediately.  Without taking her out.  But for his first week of work, I just decided to forego all the procedure and skip to the part where I take her out.  I mean, that's what happens anyway, 90% of the time.  Oh, and obviously we don't have a fence, or all of this would be totally pointless as we would just open the door, shove Lydah into the backyard, and be done with it.

Earlier this week though, Cody took Lydah out to the bathroom before bed and didn't stick around to make sure she went.  This is a surefire way to make sure I get woken up at 3am, and so when it happened I was annoyed.  I took her out, but as I came back to bed I told Cody that the next 7 times were all going to be his turn.  He mumbled "okay" and rolled over.  Always coming up with something new, that Cody.

Anyway, last night Lydah started up with her whole panting routine and somehow (miracle? karma?) Cody HEARD her, and woke up.  He also remembered the "next 7 times" conversation and dragged himself out of bed to take the dog out, griping all the way.  I rolled over to fall back asleep, relishing in the freedom of covers all to myself and appreciative of Cody for taking the stupid dog out.  I didn't really expect him to do it.

Cue to OVER AN HOUR LATER, I am suddenly awakened by frantic dog barking, coming from outside.  I jump out of bed, blearily looking around for Lydah or Cody, seeing no one, but hearing even louder barking from outside.  I open the french doors from our bedroom and run out onto the screen porch, yelling for Lydah.  At the same time I hear Cody opening the front door and calling for Lydah from the front porch.  About a minute later Lydah comes bounding in the house, full of puppy energy, happy to be back inside.  Cody walks back into our room looking sleepy and I ask him if he just left Lydah outside, roaming the neighborhood, for over an hour.  He confirms that he did.  I ask him why.  He says he fell asleep on the couch after he opened the front door and let her out.  I tell him that I certainly hope he doesn't think this counts as one of his 7 turns.  He says that it should.

So I ask you, Internet:  Should it?

Retail Blues

Recently I was reading a new (to me) blogger's "About" page, and after reading it I absentmindedly clicked on the link above the page, the one that looked like it would take me to the author's most recent post.  I read the post, and oh, I wish I wouldn't have.  I went from somewhat agreeing with the author to completely disagreeing with the author and yet still trying to "have an open mind" to getting supremely annoyed with the author and thinking that I would probably never read that blog again.  Ever.  All in the span of one post!  Blogging - it's so dramatic!

Anyway, as I was reading I kept thinking "ugh, I need to comment. This chick is SO wrong".  And then I would think "no, don't comment, you'll just be one of those annoying naysayers and all her devoted commenting fans will crucify me and wonder why I don't just 'hit the X at the top of the page if I don't like it'".  And then I thought, "this is all so stupid, these unspoken blog commenting policies.  Whatever happened to freedom of opinion?  I'm totally commenting".  And then I realized that the post I had been internally debating commenting on was over two years old, and (of course) comments were closed.  So that was that.

Which, by the way, if you think I am putting on any airs about being "better than that" as far as commenting goes, let me clear that right up.  If I get a mean commenter, I fully expect everyone to totally gang up on that person and make them feel horrible for even having INTERNET ACCESS, much less the nerve to disagree with the likes of me.  I mean, seriously.  This is like high school, with anonymity!  What could be better? </end sarcasm

Okay, so back to the point.  The post that got me all riled up was about the customer service this particular author received in a retail clothing establishment, and said service was not up to par.  So instead of recognizing this as an unfortunate SPECIFIC incident, the author decided to instead rail on ALL retail employees in general; belittling them and saying things like "I mean, who do they think they are?  They HAVE to work," and "I seriously doubt that most of them can even afford to shop in the places they work" and "in my opinion, 'retail clothing clerk' is just one step up from being a Wal-Mart cashier".   Ugh.  I'm sure you can see why I was annoyed; I'm getting aggravated again just paraphrasing the post. 

I even read through the comments (I was having the heated internal debate: to comment or not to comment) and an ASTONISHING amount of them were all like "OMG yes, that girl wuz SOOOO rude, you are totally right and they should send you one million dollars in gift certificates and also they should probably build a shrine to you, in apology.  And if they need a shrine template, I'll send them mine because clearly I worship you, OMG!!!!  Youz is AWESOME!"

And then I threw up a little more. 

However, after a while I got to a comment from someone named Mary, who didn't link to anything (smart, Mary!) and she was like "I am very well-spoken and will now write eloquently about the fact that perhaps YOUR CLERK was not very nice, but in general retail and service industry employees are very kind, and generally make up the 5% of the human population who are able to deal with mean, inconsiderate, and dishonest people day in and day out and still remain cordial and helpful at almost all times". 

And I was like, GO MARY!

Because that is so, so true.  People who have never worked a service industry job have NO IDEA what those of us who do work in this field go through on a daily basis.  Most people wouldn't be able to handle it; wouldn't be able to keep a smile on their face and remain genuinely devoted to helping the person who just got through cussing them out.  It's not easy, and I think people who are good at customer service have a GIFT.  I really, really do.  So it's really not fair to make generalizations about ALL SERVICE INDUSTRY EMPLOYEES by assuming that none of us WANT to do this job; that we all just have to because we are too stupid/poor/uneducated to get a job doing something "actually good".  That is insulting.  We don't fault professional athletes because they are gifted at a sport and then choose to take that gift and make a profession out of it.  We don't fault teachers, who have the gift of teaching and then choose to use that gift to teach our children.  So why would we fault service employees, who have the gift of serving others, if they choose to make a career out of it? 

One of the most annoying misconceptions about service employees is that we are in this industry as a last ditch-effort; because we can't hack it at anything else.  Or that we HAVE to work, and have just failed miserably at "normal" career jobs and so whaddaya know, we're just stuck behind a cash register.  This assumption is ridiculous and wrong.  The woman who owns the boutique next to mine (and waits on customers there nearly every day) was a district judge for over 40 years, until she retired to do (guess!) RETAIL.  Lots of the ladies who work in boutiques are married, have lovely homes and husbands who make very handsome incomes.  And yet (gasp) they ENJOY working retail, and they do it because they WANT to.  I know, I know, how stupid must THEY be?  I mean, to lower themselves to serve the general public?  Plenty of college students work retail jobs part-time, decide they like the retail world and graduate (with degrees!  OMG!) and STAY IN RETAIL.  I know, it's shocking.   Some of them even become managers, and regional VPs, and make (are you sitting down?) a REAL, ACTUAL INCOME.   Maybe even more than their customers make.  I know, it seems like it just COULDN'T be true.  Other service industry employees have merely decided that it is more important for them to work a job they enjoy and have flexible hours than it is to have a "more impressive" job title or an extra 10K per year.  I know, prioritizing your personal enjoyment and family over career?  Unthinkable!

Of course there are the inevitable bad apples; the ones who spoil the bunch.  This is true for ANY industry.  Ever been to the doctor and had a really bad experience, maybe the doc prescribed you the wrong thing or just didn't care and sent you out without really helping?  Yeah.  Me too.  So has everyone.  That doesn't mean every doctor is incompetent and uncaring.  Ever dealt with a shady lawyer?  Do you think all lawyers are scuzzy?  How about a bad banking transaction - do you now want to store all your money under your mattress?  I mean, let's get serious, there are always going to be bad waiters and waitresses, and of course you will, at some point, encounter some rude sales clerk in a shop.  However, in general, service employees are there TO SERVE YOU.  They are going out of their way, running their tails off, to MAKE YOUR EXPERIENCE BETTER.  What could be nicer?  You don't even have to pay them, most of the time - they will wait hand and foot on you and then you can just walk out and say never mind, I don't want anything today.  Or you can stiff them on the tip, if you feel like it.  Doesn't matter, we're still all going to see you the next time and try even harder to make things great for you.  It just blows my mind that when faced with what essentially boils down to a personal assistant, lots and lots of people choose to belittle and insult rather than accept and thank.

And we still come back to work the next day, smiles on our faces, ready to HELP YOU.  So when I read something written about how a service industry employee is somehow less important, less of a PERSON than the rest of the human race, it really gets under my skin.

Okay.  I feel better now.  Next post: Retail Blues II - We Are Not, Actually, Your Babysitters      

The Mix Tape To End All Mix Tapes

Well, a mix tape.

I'd love to just throw the songs up here and say enjoy, oh and also please comment on how awesome the songs are and how even more awesome I am for selecting them, but instead I have to give a short explanation for WHY these songs qualify in the category of Memories Frozen in Time.  I even asked Tiff, who spearheaded this particular Internet mix tape thing, if I really had to give the memory-laden explanation.  What if the song in question reminds me of puking?  Or of the first time I got my period?  I mean, do my readers really want to know about that?  What about my brothers?  But Tiff would not relent; she said I absolutely had to explain why the songs mean something to me, and also that she didn't want to hear any more lip about it.  Luckily, in her infinite grace, Tiff told me that I could use revisionist history if need be (also, if you're easily bored you can just scroll down to the bottom where all the songs are listed). 

So without further ado, allow me to present my mix tape:

Memories Frozen in Time

1. Bob Dylan - Highway 61 Revisited
All I have to hear is the first kazoo whistle in this song and I am immediately transported back to Texas Tech Fashion Design, junior year, Spring semester, Flat Pattern II.  I spent so many hours sprawled out on my (tiny) living room floor in my (tiny) apartment with half-constructed pattern paper, muslin, and various cutting/measuring tools strewn around me, listening to Highway 61 Revisited (the album) over and over.  And over.  And over!

2.  Coldplay - Amsterdam
I dated this one guy for a long time.  He never really liked me as much as I liked him, or vice-versa, always at opposite times.  I used to drive to visit him, and lots of times the route I chose took me through these gorgeous caprock canyons, right in the heart of West Texas.  I would listen to this song as loud as I could crank it, because it was just so beautiful.

3.  Dixie Chicks - Cowboy Take Me Away
My first couple of years in college, I had these two best friends who eventually broke my heart into one million pieces (don't worry, there's a song about that, too!).  Anyway, before all that happened, one of them and I would drive to Waco to watch baseball games, or just to anywhere we felt like, for any reason we could think up.  We listened to this song a lot, and I still can't listen to it without remembering riding shotgun in her black Isuzu Rodeo.

4.  Fiona Apple - Get Gone
Ooh, this is a woman power song.  Well, maybe it isn't actually, but it was for me.  This was my senior year of college, still at Texas Tech, broken up with boy from song #2, and kind of in that bitter/angry/triumphant stage.  Does it go without saying that I would sing along as loudly as possible?  I think so.

5.  Guns N' Roses - Patience
This one has two strong memories for me, and both are good.  The first is from junior high summer camp, where one of the boys who worked in the kitchen played this song for me on the very last night of camp, on his guitar, while we sat under the stars at White Sands, New Mexico.  I think I was 13 years old.  It was very romantical.  The second memory is much more recent, from a night spent karaokeing when I lived in Las Colinas, and our friend Derrick sang this song and BROUGHT THE FREAKING HOUSE DOWN.  Seriously, he was so good it was kind of incredible.  Also, right after that Cody left and got rear-ended by an illegal immigrant outside of a Tejano strip club.  While he was driving my mom's new car.  Yay!

6.  John Mayer - Split Screen Sadness
A breakup.  A long distance breakup, that took too long to happen.  Obviously.

7.  Josh Kelley - Special Company
This barely qualifies as a memory, since it reminds me specifically and strongly of The Rock Boat, which we just went on this past January.  Josh Kelley was one of the artists on board, and although I wasn't surprised at how good he was, having already been a fan, I was surprised at how cool he turned out to be.  And no, Katherine Heigl wasn't on board.  Because I know you'll ask.

8.  Lee Ann Womack - I Know Why The River Runs
Okay, this is the girlfriends-broke-my-heart song.   I won't go into all the details in this short format, but suffice it to say I spent the better part of a semester in my room, alone (because they had moved out - surprise!), listening to this song on repeat.  I know it's about a guy, but in my experience, girls can hurt you SO much worse.  You kind of half-way expect it from a guy, but I never expected it from my girlfriends.  What can I say, I was naive.

9.  Muse - Supermassive Black Hole
Muse is my second favorite band ever and this song reminds me of rocking out.  Yep, that's pretty much it.  Just rocking out, hardcore.  Because that's how I do it.  I dare you to not rock out to this song.  It can't be done.

10.  Radiohead - My Iron Lung
Speaking of favorite bands, Radiohead is my number one favorite for sure.  This song reminds me of lots of things: a 2001 New Year's Eve party in Frankfurt, Germany, my friend Heather Dalton (hi Heather, if you ever read this!) from Texas Tech (specifically a memory of going to watch that Adam Sandler movie 'Punch-Drunk Love'), and meeting my friend Kyle Lent, a rockstar fellow I bonded with almost solely through our mutual adoration for Radiohead and Sigur Ros.  Hi, Kyle!  Wow, was that random enough?  And probably boring?  Yeah.  At least it didn't have anything to do with unrequited love or ex-boyfriends.

11.  Red Hot  Chili Peppers - Snow (Hey Oh)
Have you ever listened to a song and thought "oh my gosh, my whole life is about to change, and somehow I feel this song is directly related"?  Well, I have, and I thought that about this song specifically, in or around June 2006.  I kept waiting for this major life changing event to occur, because I was just certain that this song would be the harbinger.  Alas, nothing huge happened, and although I could cheat now, nearly two years later, and list all the things that have changed between '06 and '08, it wasn't anything earth-shattering.  Doesn't stop me from remembering Summer '06 every time I hear that opening guitar riff, though.

12.  Wyclef Jean - We Trying To Stay Alive
This reminds me of my old friend Paige Smith, pure and simple.  We used to bring her jambox (ahh, high school) and blast this song full volume as we danced around her hot tub in our swimsuits.  She would rap one verse and I would get the next and we would always argue over who got to sing "Johnny's chillin'/ Dirty guy's dealin'/What more can I say, we livin'"

13.  Bjork - Big Time Sensuality
Definitely, definitely my last year at Texas Tech, free of all boyfriend-related encumbrances, driving to the airport to visit my brothers and friends in California.  I felt like the world was my oyster and Bjork captured my thoughts exactly with her "I don't know my future/After this weekend/And I don't want to"

14.  Van Morrison - I'll Be Your Lover Too
This song doesn't really remind me of anything except the movie I originally heard it in, 'Moonlight Mile' - a great flick and one I would definitely recommend if you haven't seen it already.  Anyway, all that I could think when I first heard the song is what a freaking great makeout song it would be, and I have been secretly plotting to use it for my own devices soon.  Feel free to follow suit and do let me know how your makeout session turns out.  If the feel of the song is any indication, it's gonna be AWESOME.

And the compiled list, sans wordiness:

1. Bob Dylan - Highway 61 Revisited

2.  Coldplay - Amsterdam

3.  Dixie Chicks - Cowboy Take Me Away

4.  Fiona Apple - Get Gone

5.  Guns N' Roses - Patience

6.  John Mayer - Split Screen Sadness

7.  Josh Kelley - Special Company

8.  Lee Ann Womack - I Know Why The River Runs

9.  Muse - Supermassive Black Hole

10.  Radiohead - My Iron Lung

11.  Red Hot  Chili Peppers - Snow (Hey Oh)

12.  Wyclef Jean - We Trying To Stay Alive

13.  Bjork - Big Time Sensuality

14.  Van Morrison - I'll Be Your Lover Too

Full-On Randomness

When I notice that something's running out, I get really nervous and turn into Hoarder Girl.  For example, the other day I walked into the bathroom and saw that we had one square of toilet paper left, clinging to the empty cardboard roll.  And my first reaction wasn't "ugh, why won't Cody just put a new roll on when the old one runs out?" or even a light-hearted and less-naggy "hmm, hope I have a extra roll in the cabinet up here".  Rather, my brain immediately turns into some sort of high-tech toilet paper calculator, frantically tabulating every spare roll of toilet paper in the house, where each roll is located at that very moment, and how much longer we can last on that much toilet paper without running out.  I have to have at least a 3 roll comfort zone, so that means subtracting 3 from the total.  If, at the end of these intensive calculations, I am anywhere near ZERO TOILET PAPER, I have a mini-panic attack and vow only to pee until I can make it to the store.  Once I obtain a brand new pack of toilet paper (or whatever it is I was running out of), the countdown begins anew.  And my brain does all of this on its own, without any conscious effort or acknowledgment from me.

Lydah is getting spayed tomorrow.  Cody has been incessantly referring to this as her "vagectomy".  (Oh, the creepy Googlers who will find my site now.)  I am somewhat concerned about this surgery, as we have what you might call a "doggy diva", who yelps and flinches at the slightest thought of pain or discomfort.  Some people have to worry about keeping their pups from running around all crazily and trying to rip their stitches out.  We have to worry about Lydah's precarious mental state, and whether she's about to fall, head over heels, into a full-fledged canine depression.  I've heard they make Doggy Prozac.  If this is true, I may be their next (ridiculous) customer.

My brother and I were chatting online and he said he wanted me to bring him my parents' camping tent the next time I came out to visit.  Because he is my brother, and some things never change, my gut response was to tell him that I was keeping the tent for myself, although I haven't been camping since I was about 9 years old.  I just didn't want him to have it without me being difficult, even though I could easily borrow any number of tents if the urge suddenly struck me to go set up camp in the woods, surround myself with bugs, drink nothing but stale, warm canteen water, eat something scraped out of a can, and eventually degrade myself to the point of using the bathroom behind a tree.  Camping.  Why do people VOLUNTARILY lower their standard of living for vacation?  It's like hey, I live in a HOUSE, with a ROOF, and RUNNING WATER.  And for the privilege of all these things, I work every day so that I can pay my bills.  And now that I have worked hard all week and have some time off, I know what we should do!  We should pack up a tent, take it out to some secluded area, work really hard to set up a campsite, and then sit in the dirt all weekend.   It reminds me of that scene in Office Space where Peter Gibbons is talking to his neighbor, Lawrence.  Peter is considering the question "what would you do if you had a million dollars", and after some thought, he says that what he would like most is to do absolutely nothing. 
"Nothing?" Lawrence asks.  "Hell, you don't need a million dollars to do nothing.  Take a look at my cousin, man - he's broke, don't do sh*t." 
That's how I feel about camping.  If you REALLY like camping, then why are you working anywhere at all?  Why do you have a bank account, or a car, or a mortgage?  Why not just quit everything, buy some supplies, and go live in the woods in a tent?  Wouldn't that be easier?

And with that, I'm out.  Not to go camping though.  No, I'll be taking full advantage of all the modern-day luxuries I have on hand this weekend, like flushing toilets and that big metal box they call the refrigerator.