Recreating the Big Bang?

Kat and the Big Bang: a pajama party with Fermilab physicists. Despite the very misleading B movie feel of the above statement, I did actually party the night away, in my pajamas, with leading physicist from several countries as we interacted via sattelite with CERN, the home of the Large Hadron Collider in Geneva, Switzerland.

I think that secretly I have been influenced enough by the excitement of high tension, high-tech command center movies like Apollo 13, G. I. Jane and War Games, that when I saw the opportunity to be a part of a similar scenario, I jumped. After reading about this grand multi-billion dollar experiment that was attempting to recreate the moments immediately after the Big Bang, I knew that I wanted to throw my vast intellect into the international pool and be a part of this historic event. Fermi Lab, a mere 15 minutes away in Batavia, IL was apparently a sister lab to CERN and was going to be throwing a late night/early morning "pajama party" anticipating the first proton beam to be sent around the collider. It would be receiving satellite feed directly from Geneva and interacting with them in their command center throughout the night. Unfortunately, the party was for Fermilab personnel only, and already closed for registration. Although, a small tag at the bottom of the article gave a number for the press to contact them about documenting the event. "Well," I thought, "I could be press... I could be a "special correspondent" for the Wheaton College Record. So I e-mailed the record with my article idea and then proceeded to get myself and a colleague (1 South RA) on to the press list for the night.

So, at 1:30 a.m., Mackenzie Aiken and I walked into the press room and control center for Fermilab to hob-knob with the physicist running the show while 300 other people waiting outside the glassed-in room watched on a monitor the happenings at the labs. We picked up our very official looking badges that allowed us to stay in the command center, and noticed they were lying next to badges stating things like, NPR, Chicago Tribune, and Popular Science. I felt very cool, but had enough insecurity to put on my 'smart' glasses and carry a clipboard around all night.

At one point, the press coordinator, assured us there would be English speaking scientist, or at least interpreters that we would be able to communicate with over in Geneva. This statement sent me into panic mode and I spent the next 20 minutes trying to write down at least one question that would not make me look like a complete idiot to the international press world.

Mackenzie and I stayed until around four in the morning and a successful beam had been sent completely around the LHC and then went back to dorm where we are we hold no international renown at all.

Thanksgiving nuts

We have some kind of feral squirrel in our backyard who eats entire gourds. I think this particular squirrel has a thyroid problem. If you look closely you can see he has eaten himself into a state of obesity. He discovered my autumn diorama near our backdoor and began eating his way through it with alarming speed. We started out with six large gourds and within days we were down to this one. It was the runt of my gourd litter too, so you can imagine how much he had already packed away. When we tried to run him off, he actually attempted to drag this with him. I have never seen anything like it. I was on top of him shooing him away and calling him a 'bad fat squirrel' and still he had one paw hooked to the gourd sliding it across the patio.
Ironically, my children showed similar behavior with the Thanksgiving mixed nuts. Apparently, children across the globe, black or white, jew or gentile, can't get enough of a nut cracker and a bowl of mixed nuts. It was the epicenter of our kid's Thanksgiving. Unfortunately we had only one nutcracker so the children would press into the sweet spot directly behind the bowl to either crack the nuts or jockey for position to be the next handler. One of the boys is allergic to nuts and although he never actually placed one in his mouth, the sheer amount of touching and nut loving going on caused his little body to begin reacting. So between the squirrel and Eli the nut handler, we had a good picture of how glutteny became one of the seven deadly sins.

Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows

Well, the Haase family was sucked into the furor of the last release party for the Harry Potter series. Wheaton's town center had an entire night dedicated to the midnight release with Barnes and Noble heading up the venture. There was wand making, Butter Beer, the sorting hat and every variety of Potter characters and establishments. The party was a complete success. The entire town center was crowded with children and adults alike dressed in Hogwarts attire. The Haase family's sorting hat experience yielded us two Gryffyndors, one Ravenclaw, and a Huffelpuff...and I am convinced it was the joy, joy, joy, joy down in our hearts that kept us from Slytherin. We were so lucky.

La Vida Loca

After several years of planning, Gigi, Laurel, Denise and I celebrated our 40th birthdays in the Mayan Riviera at the all-inclusive Aventura Spa and Resort. If you want to see the entire collection of mildly aging women cavorting about exotic locales, then by all means click here: http://picasaweb.google.com/khaase/MayanRiviera40th

Family Camp

This is our most recent child, Will. Not really. This is the fruit of collective parenting that happens at family camp every year. It really shouldn't be called Family Camp because the second we arrive our children dash off to be seen intermittently at meals and through the open flaps of the tent changing into wet swimming trunks. It should be called Adult and Youth Camp since the adults sit around the fire together eating while the kids flock together somewhere near water and decaying or rabid animals. All food control in regard to the kids goes out the window as well during "family" camp. I think I saw Ben downing his 10th marshmallow sometime after we finished up a round of sugar coated oil fried tortillas. Maybe we should have a third child, so that when our first two die of malnutrition we will still have someone to bear the family name.

Nature vs. nurture

Ben is our face painter and animal handler. Christopher is our animal lover and tree hugger. During zoo day at the local animal farm, Ben made our entire party stop so that he could get his face painted. He chose a purple butterfly. Chris choose a snake. Hmmm.

Fish-O-Rama 2007

The Haase family has taken the trophy yet again for the annual Wheaton Fish-O-Rama! It's been a banner run for us as we have snagged the 2nd and 1st place trophy for "Most Fished Caught." This year we topped out at 51 fish with Papa and Ben cutting bait and defishing hooks while Kat, Dan, Chris and Gigi caught the same poor fish over and over again from that stocked and glutted lake. We cast, cut, ran and threw until the trophy and brand new fishing pool were properly ours.

Anthrax!

It was a cold, dark night. The month was December. I was happily and vigorously cleaning up the dorm. My new obsession was taking down any event poster whose date had already passed...weirdly satisfying....with a particular added thrill when the posters had expired within the hour. I was in the foyer between the two sets of front doors, posters and salvaged sticky tac filling my hands. As I bent down to remove a low placed poster, my eyes fell upon a small, inconspicuous homemade package sitting on the two inch ledge of metal between the upper and lower planes of glass. On the homemade taped package was written one word..."Toxic"... in black marker with a rough skull drawn amateurishly below it. My first thoughts were of fun-loving, naive students. My second thought was IRAQ!
As fate would have it, one of the public safety officers walked through the door at this exact moment. His name was Brandon. (A student officer who had sold his soul to this elite group of crackerjack operatives years before his time.) "Brandon", I called, "How 'bout YOU dispose of this," I said, holding up my filled hands. He walked over and stared for a second then began to move his right hand toward the object. "Are you sure you want to do that with bare hands?" I asked, setting in motion deeper and more sinister thoughts in his head. "I think I'll go get some plastic gloves" he seconded and headed off to the patrol car.
And that, I thought, was the last of it. I went back to my office and began to talk with one of my RAs, Justin, who was waiting for me with a question. We talked for about 10 to 15 minutes until a police officer came up to my door and asked if Justin had had any physical contact with me while he had been sitting there. (Which I can assure you has never been asked of my RAs before, at least not by a police officer) He answered, "Not unless she drugged me and I don't remember," and without a smile the officer asked him to evacuate the premises. He then asked me if there were any other occupants in the apartment, and that they should move to a secure location. This was all a bit FREAKY for me. The next thing I know I hear two people calling into my office from the lobby. "Ma'am. Can you breathe?" I replied in the affirmative and told them they could come into my office. "Not until we are properly outfitted." they call back. I look out my door and see two people getting into outfits that I had only previously seen on the movie, "Outbreak" with Dustin Hoffman. They continue shouting questions about my wellbeing. "Is your chest feeling constricted?", "Is your skin boiling?"
"Are you kidding me," I think. What do they know that I don't. At this point an alien walks into my office dressed in bright yellow, wearing a head bubble and surgical gloves. He places a finger probe (and, yes, we're all thankful it was a finger probe) on me and tells me that this will register the oxygen intake of my skin. Apparently, he explains, the homemade package was leaking white powder when Brandon had gone to pick it up. From there the Wheaton police were contacted, and then HAZMAT. (The Hazardous Material Team) The disengaged voice behind the space suit asked me if my eyes were burning. Now, being a creative and psychologically influenced human, I began to feel as though my eyes WERE burning. I told him my eyes were burning, but they almost always did by the end of the day with the 20-year-old mascara I still used that ate into my corneas each night. "EYES BURNING" he yelled to his partner in the lobby. She lets him know that the HAZMAT team are about to set up the showers. The SHOWERS! My mind flits between Corrie Ten Boom in the Hiding Place and the contaminated Meryl Streep in Silkwood. My God, I think, (actually talking to God and not using his name in vain) I am about to be scrubbed down naked in the front circle of Smith-Traber by men with long poles and steel bristles while I hunch in the center like a sixth grader in a locker room. At this point the phone rings. "We know what it is," says my trusty ARD, Julie Allen. "The package was made by one of the brother floors for a game they were playing with a sister floor." The "game" was similar to a who-done-it and included a little rope, a little dagger, and said poison packet. One of the girls had set the poison packet down in the foyer when they were reading another clue and then gone off running to the next part of the game, forgetting the packet on the ledge.
It took about 20 minutes for everyone involved to get the correct information that the unknown powder was not anthrax or ricin and then about two more hours for all the authorities to document the incident and to find the poison package artist and the forgetful student. We had an impromptu discipline meeting with the Dean who had been called out in the middle of the night which ended with a slap on the wrist to the students who will NEVER do anything like this again. And I got a cardiovascular workout without having to move from my desk seat. The HAZMAT representative and I became fast friends, and Christopher discovered another costume ensemble that he could wear around the dorm to confirm in people's mind that we are in fact the weird homeschooling parents that they thought we were. So all in all a good night!

Airfare not included

Since we convinced Gigi and Papa to do this, we thought we might be able to convince others in the same manner and make it a profitable venture.
"Are you sick and tired of your temperate Georgia vacation home in the woods? Then have we got a deal for you. Spend 5 days/4 nights in the icy winds of suburbia playing exciting games like Uno and Connect Four with two 5 and 7 year old boys. Forget Chicago (Chicago not included) Wheaton, IL is the new playground of the jetset Boomers and Builders. And speaking of builders, Jenga is not just a game, its also the bottom 1/3 of a log cabin. Don't wait for this great deal to get any better...because it never will. Act now and you will receive 100 percent flame retardant FLANNEL sheets on your queen size air mattress, serving both as your bed and Uno playground. Because it's not what UNO, it who UNO! Offer valid in the contiguous United States."

Ben and the Benevolent Birthday

Benjamin turned 5 on December 3rd. He was greeted by our new pet dog, "Lewis", balloons and a bevy of presents. Lewis is our imaginary real dog because certain higher-ups have deemed pets to be a detriment to dormitory living. When I am queen of the world, RDs WILL be allowed to own a family pet. As some of you know, December 3rd is only partially Ben's birthday. If you put a 2 in front of the 3, that would be a more accurate representation of when he actually entered the world. But we are not cruel literalists. If we were, Ben would be celebrating his birthday every year in the car while driving to some relatives house where he would be receiving his birthday/Christmas gifts on the 23rd of December... no school celebration, no special day, just a blip in the Christmas rush acknowledging his presence. By having it on the 3rd on the other hand, Benjamin will grow up to be a healthy well adjusted adult with friends and a warm feeling towards his parents. I also wonder why generation after generation of families are burdened down with names like John Boobneck or Ashley Longbottom when some benevolent relative along the way could have changed a letter or two and transformed the middle school experience of every subsequent child in the family. At the very least, John Benneck and Ashley Longton would be grateful.