The Tetris Song

Last night Andrew and I were talking about "the future" and we got off on a little tangent. We are narrowing down the list of schools Andrew wants to apply for, one of which is Cornell, the school that the character Andy Bernard (from The Office) went to. Earlier that day, Andrew had been listening to 'Wait, Wait, Don't Tell Me," a segment by NPR that invites famous people on for interviews/to answer amazingly random questions, and Ed Helms, who plays Andy Bernard, was on.

Apparently he really does play the banjo and is pretty active on banjo forums and things like that. So he's apparently pretty musical.

One of the questions he was asked was about "The Tetris Song." And that's how we got onto our tangent.

"How does that song go?" Andrew asked me. "I can't think of the tune!"

I sang in the Russian Choir at BYU for a few years, which was a whole lot of fun. Ironically enough, the director of the choir was named David Layton and pretty much the whole choir thought we were married for quite some time. The fact that my maiden name is Layton didn't help quell any rumors nor did the fact that my brother's name is David and we were required to provide a black binder to hold our music and the only one that I could find at home had "DAVID LAYTON" written on the spine with permanent marker.

I didn't know that anyone thought we were married until a girl asked me, "So what are you going to do after David graduates? Are you going to move back to Alaska or head somewhere else?"

I looked at her, utterly confused, and said, "Alaska?"

"Yeah, of course Alaska. That's where your husband is from."

And then I looked at her even more confused and said, "Husband?"

"Oh, David's not your husband?"

Yeah, no. David's not my husband. And I wasn't even married at the time (I finished my degree before Andrew returned home from his mission). That conversation was plain awkward--more for her than for me, I'm sure.

Still, choir was a lot of fun and I still have a lot of the music tucked away in a black binder with "DAVID LAYTON" written on the spine. It's...somewhere. I still sing some songs occasionally because we sang some really fun songs, including "The Tetris Song."

But for some reason, "The Tetris Song" just wasn't coming to me last night. The first song I thought of was Katyusha (English or Russian). I started singing that.

"No, no, no!" Andrew said in agony, "That's not right! I almost had the tune and now it's gone!"

He started humming a tune. Gas Truck Theme Song #1 (also known as Lambada) popped into my head. That definitely wasn't right, either. I didn't start humming that one because I didn't want to throw Andrew off the trail.

Next I thought of Kalinka (English or Russian) but I also knew that one didn't go with Tetris.

"It's about a guy carrying a basket and his shoulders get tired so he sets it down...you know any songs like that?" Andrew would ask before closing his eyes and working through some more music in his head.

And then, after about a half hour of wracking our brains, Andrew spilled out a sequence of notes that finally sounded familiar.

"...Пожалей, моя зазнобушка, Молодецкого плеча!" I finished for him, "Korobushka!"

"That's it!" said Andrew.

I sang the bits that I could remember to him. I haven't sung that song in a long time, so I couldn't sing very much, but it was nice to know that we finally figured out what the song was. (Korobushka in English or Russian).

"You know," Andrew admitted, "I knew all along the song was called Korobushka. Would that have helped you figure out the tune?"

Oi! Polna, polna! D'ya think?!

Of course, my subconscious was on the right track all along. I seemed to be going through songs that start with the letter K: Kalinka, Katyusha...I don't know why Lambada popped in there but...I'm sure I would have thought of Korobushka eventually. I'm just glad we thought of the song before 2 o'clock in the morning.

We're both a little nerdy and once we think of a question need an answer. Wikipedia and Google have solved so many of our "disagreements." We were just about ready to race to our computers so that we could find out the answer. In this case, whoever found the answer first would have "won" because we weren't really disagreeing, we just couldn't think of the answer. That means Andrew would have "won" because his computer boots up way faster than mine.

Usually, though, we look things up because one of us says something and the other says, "No way!" and then we have to look it up to see who's right and who's wrong. It doesn't matter who finds the answer first, necessarily, but that whoever was right in the first place is vindicated.

You'd be surprised how many times we've gotten up out of bed to look things up in the dictionary or on wikipedia. Too many times, really.

We both won last night, though, because Ed Helms didn't know that "The Tetris Song" was Russian, and we both did. So, now we're smarter than Andy Bernard, right? And he went to Cornell, so Andrew could definitely get in, too, right?

Granted, Ed Helms isn't Andy Bernard, has no known ties to Russia, and plays the banjo, not the balalaika (although he did teach himself how to play the sitar, so maybe the balalaika will be next). So how could he be expected to know much about "The Tetris Song?" I don't think he even went to Cornell so this probably isn't going to up our chances of getting in any since they only accept 2 applicants per year. Still, Cornell is on our list of "top 5 schools to apply to."

Moving the wheels of history

Bath time, pyjamaing, scripture reading, and family prayer have become some sort of a drudgery for Rachel. Perhaps drudgery is not the right word because she still enjoys doing those things; she approaches them, however, with a hint of trepidation and is sure to drag her feet all along the way because she knows what comes next.

Bedtime.

She started crying this evening soon after we finished reading the scriptures.

"No, mama! No, mama! Noooo!" she she pleaded and then, when her pleas were effectively ignored, started throwing out random suggestions. We shook our heads at each idea of hers since we had already taken care of everything from potty to snack time, "Nack! *pause* Pa-pa! *pause* Wawa! *pause* Go! *pause* Moo-moo! *pause* Nooooooo!"

"Rachel," I said, "It's mommy's turn to talk. We're going to say prayer. You need to be quiet and listen, okay?"

She's typically pretty obedient so she quieted up and we were able to get through most of the prayer. When I started closing the prayer, however, Rachel started wailing again. She's the only child I know who actually wants the prayer to go longer. Any prayer that happens right before bedtime, that is.

"I'm sorry, Rachel," I said, "The wheels of bedtime are already turning...and...it's just that time again."

Andrew looked at me funny. I did just slaughter a great quote "wheels of bedtime?" What? But, I redeemed myself.

"Bedtime alone moves the wheels of history!" I told Rachel, shaking my fist in the air one minute and pounding it soundly on the couch cushion the next.

Andrew and Carolee (who happened to be over) started laughing. Not only did I quote Mussolini, I also quoted Dwight, who, though far less historic, is much more hilarious. Rachel, tired girl that she was, started giggling. Soon her giggles morphed into uncontrolable laughter, with tears of mirth rolling down her cheeks. And then? Then she started bawling.

I don't know if it was from laughing too hard, from worrying that we had stopped laughing with her and started laughing at her, from realizing she had no idea why she was laughing, from sensing that bedtime was (still) inevitable, or from sheer tiredness, but all happiness dissolved and she ended up a miserable little baby.

So I did what I do best with children who are so tired they can't separate their emotions. I put her to bed. And that's where she is now, sleeping like a baby.

Dwight?

We were heading to the grocery store yesterday: Macey's. We have this strange loyalty to Macey's, even though to get to Macey's we technically pass Albertson's, Smith's, and depending on the way we drive, Harmon's. I suppose it has to do with the fact that both sets of parents typically shop at Macey's. We're familiar with their layout. They have better prices than Albertson's or Smith's or Harmon's.

Do all grocery stores in Utah belong to someone? We also have Allen's and Sam's Club. I can't think of one that doesn't have an apostrophe in it. In Alberta we had IGA (which is now called something else, I don't remember what), The Great Canadian Superstore, Sav-on Foods, and a few others that really didn't belong to anyone. I suppose that's what you get for living in a socialist country. Just kidding.

Anyway, we were heading to Macey's and we were stopped at a red light. I looked out the window and happened to see Dwight, from the Office. Andrew saw him, too. He was ever so carefully spray painted onto a utility box with, get this, a stencil.

This made me have flash backs to Europe where a whole lot of graffiti is done with stencils. They don't do this free-hand stuff. They stencil their gang names, they stencil Disney characters, they stencil...just graffiti. But only in the really uptight countries.

I first noticed this phenomenon when I went on a trip to the Baltics from Russia. Russia was rather dirty. They had street sweepers to clean up trash but no one really cared about keeping the streets clean so there was always plenty of trash abounding (not that Americans should talk. Look at the grossness in the above picture). We stepped out of the train in Latvia. Wow. To us it looked spotless. Well cared for. Pristine. Then we got to Sweden. Now that was a clean, well-organized country.

But we did notice, in both of these places...stenciled graffiti. Now, that's got to make you feel tough, doesn't it?

Gang member #1: What did you do last night?
Gang member #2: I did some wicked graffiti.
GM #1: Oh, let's see!
Both gang members walk to where the heinous crime has taken place. On an otherwise spotless brick wall is a newly stenciled mickey mouse done in bright yellow, with the gang name stenciled beneath it.
GM#1: Oh, isn't that just precious. Nice work. I really like the detail on the ears.
Both gang members emit some evil laughter, but then they hear the sirens...
GM#2: Let's beat it!

Oh, yeah. That's the epitome of rebellion.

I wonder if the person who spray painted Dwight on the utility box got the same kick out of it!

Coincidence? I think not!

Two rather interesting things happened this week, which may have been coincidence, but I think might be a little bit more.

The first was that we found out that the Office is on hiatus for the next little while, which is great because we really like the Office but it has recently become really hard to catch because we have dance practice on Thursdays during the Office. The week the next show comes out (they've been playing reruns) just happens to be the very week after our performance. Now, that might just be a coincidence, but it is kind of really cool.

The second is that on Sunday I was still kind of worried about my baby. Not that I'm done being worried. I don't think I ever will be. My mom still worries about us. Her mom worried about her until the day she died. So, I'm pretty much just going to worry the rest of my life away. I'll be sure to enjoy it, too, but I will certainly worry about things. Anyway, my sister, Abra, told me that if I wanted to talk I could phone her. She has a lot of experience with grieving over babies (even though I really have no reason to grieve, I certainly was gravely concerned). I thought about phoning her, but I didn't.

On Friday night shortly before 10 o'clock my sister called me.

"Hey, Nanny!" she greeted me. After exchanging the regular niceties we both waited for the other to start the conversation. Since she was the one initiating the phone call, I was thinking it would be pragmatically correct for her to also initiate the conversation. She had other ideas. After sitting in silence for a few moments she finally broke the ice,

"So, you called..." she said.

"No," I corrected her, "You called."

"Nan," she said, "You called me first. My phone has your number in my display saying that you called at 9 PM so I hit the button to dial your number and got you, so obviously..."

"Okay, that's really weird because I didn't call."

After covering some more grim topics, we had a great conversation about swimming and lifeguarding. Abra read me these lists (the swimming one is almost the exact one, although I think she edited the content for me) of how to know if you are a swimmer/lifeguard. I simply can't find the lifeguarding one, but they are both so funny because they are so true. Really, the worst is when you sweat chlorine...

I was reading the list to Andrew and he didn't get it until I got to the one about your wardrobe being "held together by knots or torn and see through." He got that one, alright. He made me throw away 7 bathing suits after we got married. What a waste! If only you could have seen them though...they worked if I wore 2-4 at any given time.

Anyway, Abbi helped me relax and think about something other than my baby, which was a really nice change.

So, although the TV show thing might be a mere coincidence, I don't think my sister's phone call was. That was more of a blessing.