Cool, dude!?

Adam is back from Aspen (yay!yay!yay!yaaaaaaaaaaay!YAAAAAAAAY!) Maybe I'll write a little about that later, with some pics. But for now...

Adam works full-time in the summer for the CU Grounds crew. He also works for them part-time during the school year. He has been there over a year now, and I think he is the oldest student worker on the crew. The nearest competitor for that title is probably a Masters student. Anyways, his bosses absolutely love him (besides the fact that he is amazingly awesome, I think the fact that he is older and more mature definitely helps!) and give him leadership over other students.
Yesterday, he was talking to another student. When this student found out that Adam is a doctoral piano student, the following conversation (or something very like it) occurred:

Igor (I don't know what his real name is, silly!): You play the piano??
Adam: Yes
Igor: Have you ever played the piano high??
Adam: Yes. High on life. (hehehe just kidding)
Adam's real response: No.
Igor: Have you ever been high??
Adam: No.
Igor: You totally should try it. It doesn't hurt you, you know.

Later, Igor found out that Adam's wife (that's me, in case you didn't know) is a clarinetist. Then, the following conversation ensued:

Igor: She plays the clarinet??
Adam: Yes
Igor: Has she ever played the clarinet high??
Adam: No.
Igor: Has she ever been high??
Adam: No.
Igor: She totally should try it. It doesn't hurt you, you know.

We're not really sure why this student was so fascinated by the idea of playing a musical instrument while under the influence of illegal drugs, but maybe he should take up a musical instrument so he can find out for himself. Lord knows he'll never get such information out of us...we're, like, totally ignorant on the subject, dude!

And that, folks, is when we realized, then verbally acknowledged, for the 1263rd time, that we are not very cool. I obviously realized this about myself when, as a college student, not a six-year old, I had a basket and rubber squeaky penguin horn installed on my bike. As a married couple, it was difficult to not realize our uncoolness constantly, since we are classically trained musicians and therefore revile nearly all mass-considered "popular music" and instead spend our afternoons debating the phrasing of a particular Scriabin Sonata. Let the ubergeek jokes begin. We were, of course, almost daily reminded of the fact that we are disastrously uncool when we scheduled a trip to Disney World for our 5th anniversary, signing ourselves up for a week of joining the children in line for rides instead of going somewhere like Cabo or the Mediterranean, or New York City. So, really, at this point, we don't mind being uncool. What I mean to say is, we never did mind being uncool. We'll just have our own, ignorant, crazy definition of cool.
In my dictionary, the Complete and Revised Weeter's Dictionary of English, if you look under the word cool, it says, simply: "Adam J. Haas."

Sad. But also true.

I was just playing FarmTown on Facebook (I'm addicted), and I was chatting with this fellow farmer. She is from Indiana.
I told her I had lived in Indiana for two years.
Anyone who knows me also knows that I hated living in Indiana. Hated it. But, of course I didn't really focus on that while I was talking to her. I told her how I had lived in Bloomington, and how I always enjoyed the limestone churches and courthouses. She said her town had cute limestone buildings in it. Then I told her I had gone to the Indiana State Fair, and that I thought it was absolutely awesome (it really was). She told me about her town's blueberry festival. Then I told her that I didn't get to see much of Indiana, and would have liked to see the covered bridges and Amish towns. Then she said, "This is odd." "What?" I asked. "Nobody from out of state EVER says anything nice about Indiana," she answered. That's the sad and true part, in case any of you missed that.
As mentioned above, most of you know that I don't have too much nice stuff to say about Indiana. Those three or four things might truly be the only three or four things I liked about Indiana. Wait, I forgot...I loved the autumn leaves and fertile gardens. There, I think that makes five or six things, maybe. But seriously, so I didn't enjoy Indiana. There were nice things, of course, but not enough nice things to counteract how miserable I was! I am able to recognize that most of my reasons for hating Indiana actually had nothing to do with Indiana (hating my job, car problems, being far from family, tight finances, etc.). The point is, what a nice conversationist I would be if she said, "I'm from Indiana," and I replied, "I HATE INDIANA! IT'S SO AWFUL!" That would have gotten me far, huh?
And though you would think this would be common courtesy/common knowledge/common practice, I can't help but remember the time I told someone (a nameless someone, of course) that I was going to Disney World for my anniversary and they replied with a snooty "I will NEVER go to Disney. OR Florida for that matter."
Niiiiiiiiiiiiiiiice!
Or the time I was taking a transaction for a professor when I worked at the bank. He was quizzing me about my general existence, and when he found out that Adam was earning his masters in music, he famously said to me..."You know you are going to work your whole life since he has majored in that."
Yeah, thanks for that, Jerk. (the conversation went on a bit. He really was a jerk, I'm not just saying that from that one line. I believe I've blogged about this very conversation before! and how discouraging it is. And how many times I've had it said to me. And how you totally shouldn't lecture people (strangers) about this...okay, off the soapbox now)

Look, I'm no saint. I have Donald Duck fits. I'm not the most compassionate person in the universe. I read too much into what people say to me. I can be overly critical. But I can at least say about myself that I at least know how to have courteous conversation with strangers!

Today is Special!

Today I was reminded that it is a special day when Adam called me to say:
"Happy Anniversary, baby!"
Hehehe. I totally knew that! Well, I did! All week I've been thinking about it. Six years. I sure do love that man of mine!
Then, Dara came to visit me, and I got TOTALLY distracted with playing and eating and playing and visiting!
So, when hubby called, I had really, truly forgotten!
Six years ago he was handsome...and he still is!
Six years ago he was funny...and he still is!
Six years ago he was kind to me...and he still is!
Six years ago I loved the sound of his voice...and I still do!
Six years ago I vowed to love him forever...and I would do it all over again in a heartbeat!!

I love you, Adam James!

rodents, gasoline, and classical music

One of the duties I have at my job is to maintain the library van. It's a sad little Ford Aerostar cargo van. I've had LOTS of trouble with it. I've had two popped (and I mean **POP***, not "shhhhhhhhhz") tires, broken rear door stays (wonderful when the back door lands on your cranium while you are hoisting a 35-pound tub of books into the back of the van), and, lastly, but most hIlariously, I've had critter problems. Countless critter problems.
We've got some critter near the library that LOVES the taste of Ford Van wires. I've had critters chew through the brake line, the gas line, the gas line, the break line, the gas line, and the gas line. It's pretty much always a grab bag when you go out to start the van. You absolutely never, ever, ever know what you are going to get. "Hmmm. Today the van won't stop." or "Hmmmm, today I can't breathe because the air is 99.9% gasoline" or "Hmmm, what's this puddle coming out from under the van? Van peee? Oh, silly me! It's gas!" or "Hmmmm, I'm fast approaching that unfortunate pedestrian, and there's nothing I can do because this van is careening out of control."

Here's the fun part:
*Me, dialing the CU Garage*
*Ring* Rinnnnnnnnng*
Garage: "CU Garage"
Dani: "Hi. this is Danielle from the library"
Garage: "what is it this time? A popped tire?"
Dani: "Geez. Hi to you, too. And why do you say popped tire when critters get the van MUCH more often"
Garage: "Oh, only because you popped two tires on that van in one month. Two right front tires."
Dani:" Hey, I didn't do it! It was my students."
Garage:"Uh Huh! .......so, you've got a critter again, huh? Alright, I'll have it towed in"

May I just say that I absolutely adore the CU Garage people? I honestly and truly believe that I am their most frequent customer. They know me by my voice, and they are ALWAYS teasing me about critters and popped tires. We have cooked up many entertaining and effective ways to "rid ourselves" of the break/gasoline-wire-eating pestilence.
As of yesterday, I have to report that I adore the CU Garage people even more than before? Wanna know why? I went to retrieve my fixed-up van. As I left the garage, it occurred to me that there was wonderful music playing for the mechanics....CLASSICAL MUSIC! Classical music mechanics. Love it!

My morning

I bicycled to work today. That doesn't happen very often. Why, you ask? Well, firstly, because I am lazy. Also, because I hate to get sweaty-especially when I have to face a whole workday without showering immediately after getting sweaty. And finally, because there are four separate buses that will happily transport me from practically my front door to practically my office door in less time than it takes me to bike there.
Today, however, I knew I would want to bike home in the afternoon. I have to wait a bit longer in the afternoon for a bus, and in the 90-something degree heat that can make me quite cranky, indeed.
So, this morning I unlocked my bike, loaded up my basket, squeaked my rubber squeaky toy bike horn and set on my way. Not even two minutes into my bike ride I started noticing things. The sky, for example, was so clear and bright and full of promise early in the morning. Then, I bike by the biggest, juiciest, chubbiest bright pink thistle I've seen in a looooooong while. That made me pretty happy. As I turned toward the west, it was impossible not to notice the mountains. The flatirons had that happy glow that only comes from a full night of sleep. Well-rested mountains are very cheeful looking. When I came near Boulder Creek, I could hear it greeting me in its bubbly brook way. A morning symphony, and all within two minutes of leaving my house. I began to wonder why I don't bike to work EVERY morning!!!
I biked along the path, listening to worm-hunting birdies, passing early morning joggers (and may I just mention that true to Boulder fashion, many of them looked like the Bionic Woman or the Hulk or something), and savoring the cool morning breeze.
Finally, I came face to face with the monster that resides at the end of my bike route: a little hill I like to call "Mt. Everest." Mt. Everest, as you might have guessed from the name, is not a small hill. It is steep. So steep that I have to get off my bike and walk it up. And I don't mean a little, jaunty walk with a spring in my step. No sirrreeee. I mean a lean forward at a 45 degree angle, push ALL your weight into your bike handle bars, take one huge breath, and go kind of walk. Then, I get embarassingly out of breath, huffing and puffing, but pretending I'm not, lest someone see me. I'm definitely remembering why I don't bike to work every day now!!!
Today, as I was laboring up this hill, I heard a bike approaching over my left shoulder. Some dude was going to try biking up it. hehehe. This could be fun. I secretly desired his failure. I mean, maybe if he finally fell off his bike, overtaken by the steep grade, I could feel a little less ridiculous walking up. (Oh, and I would like to take this moment to mention that my beloved husband bikes up this hill. But, he is superhuman, so he doesn't really count). Okay, the biker passed the huffing puffing me, started pedaling slower....and slower...........and...................slower... .........Then he started weaving side to side. and....finally....lost........his ......balance because he was going too slow. Doesn't Mt. Everest claim something like 1 in 4 people who climb it? Well, I think the same can be said of this Mt. Everest hill. Oh, and one more thing... when I reached the top of the mountain, I mean hill, I decided it ISN'T named. Mt. Everest. I've found a much more fitting, descriptive name: Mt. DooDooHead.

Taking in the view

Today, during my lunch break, I went on a little walk. Campus is beautiful today. The sun is hot, but there is a delightful breeze to refresh you just as you are beginning to feel like you might wilt. The grass is beautifully manicured, and I just love the trees. Today brings me fresh air, trees, grass, flowers, and cheeks.
And when I say cheeks, I am not referring to the chubby, pink, adorable kiddo cheeks. Nor am I referring to chubby, fuzzy, adorable chipmunk cheeks stuffed with seeds. Unfortunately, I am begrudgingly referencing “southern” cheeks. And by southern, I don’t mean gumbo and magnolias. I mean low. Low cheeks. Anatomically low cheeks. Get it??
Yep, smack dab in the middle of my pleasant walk, which was going to end in a pleasant cookie (but that’s all I’m going to say about that), my eyes were accosted by the sight of a nude sunbather on Norlin Quad. Alright, upon closer inspection, there was a flesh-colored, barely-there G string bikini bottom, but the bikini top was missing.
Why do people think a university campus is Miami Beach? I never saw a “XXX Girls Girls Girls XXX” sign hanging anywhere as a warning! And I would have dearly liked a warning!
Here’s another sad, but amusing thing: the area where she was sunbathing had a mysterious-at-first-but-then-not-really-so-mysterious concentration of guys hanging around. Seriously, there were at least five or six guys sitting around “doing homework” and a group of unnecessarily jubilant male Frisbee players. There weren’t any girls. Funny, that!
Anyhow, I now strangely feel an urge to don Victorian garb. Modest, puritanical, ankle-to-chin Victorian garb.

My gourmet dinner

It's a gourmet three course menu for tonight:

1) Appetizer: fruit and cheese plate. Cherries, strawberries, English Cheddar, Mediterannean Gouda, rye and pumpernickle bread

2) Salad: Cucumber and Tomato salad with Italian vinaigrette

3) Entree: Totinos Triple Pepperoni Pizza Rolls