Accepting (the Boulder) reality

Coming back from my run this morning I saw a guy going out for ride not on his bicycle, but on his unicycle.

It wasn't this guy, but I wouldn't be surprised if this guy lives in Boulder. Pic by Martin Vidner.

And he was pretty ripped (although not quite as ripped as Mr. Soltys).

I went over the awesomeness of my being that buff and momentarily contemplated picking up unicycling as a hobby.

But then I realized that that was never, ever going to happen.

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Life decisions

Yesterday during a morning date at a local breakfastery that shall remain nameless, Mike realized that he (or perhaps the chef) didn’t know the difference between eggs over easy and eggs over medium.

When his “over medium” order came out too runny for his liking, he decided that from now on he’ll opt for “eggs over really difficult.”

Hard, easy, medium, impossible ... who knows. Pic from SanFranAnnie on Flickr.

We’ll keep you posted on how that works out.

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Serenading

The poor lady who’s here in the computer lab with me has had to endure my incessant humming (OK, I’ll admit it … it’s probably closer to singing) along with Colbie Caillat, Amos Lee and Sara Bareilles.

Pic by P_a_h.

Oh well.

I was here first.

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Bagel woes

Why do bagel shops, the supposed bagel experts, put different flavored bagel species together in one, massive “party bag,” when they must know darn well that everything that comes out of the bag will taste of cheddar and onion?

What flavor bagels are these, you ask? Cheddar and onion, cheddar and onion, cheddar and onion. Pic by Ezra.Wolfe on Flickr.

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I know a famous pianist

Went to the Boulder Philharmonic Orchestra last night primarily to see acclaimed concert pianist Hsing-ay Hsu (I know her!) perform a solo during.

The lovely Hsing-ay Hsu.

Mike and I sat riveted during her Bach piece, watching in awe as her fingers alternately sashayed and stomped across the keys of the massive Steinway.

The second half (is that what the part after half-time is called?) was a piece by Mahler*, which wasn’t quite as interesting–although we were able to pick up on at least three glorified nursery rhymes during this part–but it did allow me to concentrate on conductor Michael Butterman’s shiny locks as he whipped his head around animatedly in time with his maestro stick.

I left the concert with a new-found appreciation for classical music and a burning desire to know what kind of conditioner Butterman uses.

*Note, I’m proud of myself for knowing these composer guys’ names, but truth be told, I’m just cutting and pasting them from the press release.

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