the carfry

Props to any reading this that have a Twitter account. Many of my friends out west are (finally) starting to sign up. But my friends here in the Midwest are a little slower on the uptake. That’s fine, you can’t rush things like this. I remember when my cousins from LA sent us “Pogs” back in the 90s…

My sister and I opened the package, read their instructions, and looked at each other like “WTF?” - we thought it was just another crazy Californian thing, like the word “like” they sprinkled throughout their sentences, flip flops and capris that eventually breezed into KC. Thinking they might come in handy, we put them in a drawer and continued playing with whatever we were into at the time.

Years later, people at school started talking about Pogs. Turns out, it was a stroke of genius to keep those strange non-toys stashed away in a drawer (thanks, Mom). Overnight, my sister and I had the largest Pog collection this side of the Mississippi. Ok, slight exaggeration…but we - and our pogs - were pretty cool. We had so many slammers we needed carriers just for those. It was nuts, like Vegas in the 70s must have been. Anyhow, thanks to Pogs, I’ve always kept a keen eye on things coming to KC from the West. We may not “get it” immediately here, but after a few years, the trend will make its way over the river and through the woods, and soon become “the next big thing” here in Kansas City. Meanwhile, the newness to us is becoming passe in California. And so the cycle begins.

Back to Twitter. Twitter is like Pogs. Popular in larger cities and with the younger crowds, written up in NY Times, used by Obama’s campaign, referenced in CNN, etc, etc. It does have an application in life - keep your “followers” abreast of your latest happenings through short and pithy 140 character text messages. It’s fun, addictive, and come on, oh-so-trendy. You really can learn about news, events, parties, happy hours, friend gatherings, all that good stuff - from your friends and others in your community or areas of interest. But there is a tactful way to use Twitter. Below is my Guide to Twitter Newcomers on Twitter Etiquette…

Top 3 Ways NOT to use Twitter (read: 3 things that will quickly get you “unfollowed” by carfry):

1. Tell me what you’re eating for dinner. I really don’t care what you’re eating for dinner, unless, of course, you’re at a restaurant on an incredibly awful date or (insert hot actor’s name here) is dining there next to you. In either case, I’ll hustle down to take a look. But if you’re having meatloaf, enjoy your meatloaf and don’t Tweet about the tasty sauce. 

2. Cyber flirt/PDA. Enough cutsie-wootsie goes down in real life. That’s cute. Sharing your cutsie-wootsie with your Twitter network is not necessary; that’s a quick unfollow. Facebook flirting is bad enough - get a room, folks. Your friends may not mind the PDA in public (real life), but there’s no place for it online - unless, of course, it’s via email. That’s like getting a room on the Internet. Don’t send Tweets through your entire network of followers that could and should be sent just to your love; spare us all the deets.

3. Send @(insert Twitter follower name here) with one word responses. The @ in Twitter is used to send a Tweet to your entire network, but one that is directed to the “@” follower. So, if a friend shares a funny video link via Twitter, I may respond to them “@olbessy: great story! have you seen the youtube similar to that about texting for love? http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dX3ws6OnGuE.” See, this is relevant.  And interesting. And funny. My whole Twitter network will receive the message and olbessy will feel special b/c my @ is a nod to them. Whereas, “@olbessy: ha!” - is this relevant? No. Interesting? No. Insightful? No. Funny? No. Then don’t share it. Good litmus test on what qualifies as a reputable Tweet.

Happy Tweeting!

Just a homemade fence, some hay...oh, and wind turbines!

Driving across Kansas today on my way back from Colorado, I actually had the opportunity (er, took the time) to stop and admire one of the cooler things about this state - the wind farm off I-70. Kansas may not be seen as a progressive state…well, in reality, who am I kidding. Evolution was banned from state assessments when I was in high school. Fortunately, some Kansans have evolved (others, however, still don GOP political stickers).

Anyhow…I thought I’d take a page from Michael Robinson Photography and upload some pictures to the carfry. Afterall, sometimes I just don’t have all that much to say. Ok, wait, I retract that. I generally ramble on and on…sometimes speaking as if an ellipse is required at every breath…as a way to tag more on…

It’s hard to really grasp the extent of this wind farm found just west of Salina, KS. For those of you not familiar with the geography, it’s just west of BFE. Set in the middle of rolling hills stand endless turbines…literally, it seems to go on for miles. And heck, it does! My dad calls it Windfarm, KS. The developer’s website claims it’s over 14,000 acres - that nears 22 square miles. 

Here are some (unedited) pictures for your viewing pleasure, taken with my lil’ point ‘n shoot.

Wind technology on the horizon...

Wavin the wheat

Solid. It’s been a solid 4 months since my last post. Needless to say, thanks to an email from my good friend Bryan Goldberg - urging me to update my “damn blog” I figured it was time. His nudge made me think about the other expressions of self I have employed since my last post. And no, mom, don’t freak out, it’s not a tattoo. 

Much has changed in four months. My life has become pleasantly “complicated” - for one, I have decided to stop using my cell phone for phone conversations. And by “stop using” I really mean, heavily screen calls. I’m great about responding to texts and emails. However, the phone and it’s abundant source of radioactive transmissions has made me think twice. Despite “inconclusive evidence”, I don’t want to be a stat when/if conclusive evidence shows that having a signal transmitting device inches from the brain in fact does have some affect on health. That said, I’m taking a stand and trying desperately not to use my cell phone to talk. Instead, I’m finding a friend in Twitter.

Twitter and I go waaay back to the days in Dallas, summer 2007, my friend Jon Mick persuading me to sign up for this Twitter thing that seemed more annoying than beneficial. Though over time, I’ve found that condensing my verbose stories into 140 character pithy blasts to my family and friends is more exhilarating than a long blog post. Yes, exhilarating. Part of the fun is in the challenge of being concise; it’s also fun to browse through old updates just to see what I was up to “back in the day”… even more fun, perhaps, is convincing people in my realm that Twitter is actually worthwhile! If not to send their updates, but at least to keep up with carfry! I promise, I’m more enlightening than “Eating dinner.”   

Making things more complicated than technical details of my life, and moving offline….I’ve started adding more and more to my resume. I’m now officially the unofficial photographer’s assistant of the incredibly talented Michael Robinson. He takes phenomenal photographs of architecture and interiors - poignantly capturing the space of a space. Check out his work on his website Michael Robinson Photography.  One of many things I’ve learned working with him is that lights are HOT and may cause scalding of fingers, knuckles and in general, skin. I don’t know why Starbucks has a disclaimer written on their cups and yet these professional grade lights do not say: “Hey, hottie, these lights are hotter than you. So use some gloves. Or ask that annoying, unassuming guy over there to do it for you” (note: “annoying, unassuming guy” does not infer photographer). 

So that’s life in a nutshell. A nutshell without a voice calls; a nutshell with over 10 new voicemails on any given day; a very hot nutshell with bright lights. It gets complicated, and for that, we thank Facebook for the “It’s complicated” relationship status.

I have to have music playing, pretty much at all times. Working, laying out (duh), driving/riding in the car, getting ready in the morning…there is always some track playing in the background. One of the hardest things for me is coming up with a name for the playlist. I mean, the musicians are pros at creating songs, putting lyrics to tunes. Is there a pro playlist resource I can reference?

Currently my proudest playlist names are “Organic Banana” (for chill tracks) and Newish (for my new music I uploaded before going to Israel). These are accompanied by “On-the-go 1″, “On-the-go 2″ and “Why not” (named after the most boring cat-track on the mountain in Steamboat). Clearly, I struggle with this creative endeavor.

I have “Organic Banana” playing now as I multitask: eating lunch, chatting online, taking in the CO breeze and of course, writing this post. In the back of my mind, I’m still wondering why the hell the *dormant* alarm siren blared on and off from the hours of 2 am to 5 am this morning. I’m going to have some words with the alarm dude when and if he ever shows his face here this afternoon. I’m seriously considering greeting him with an air horn…right in his ear…every 30 seconds. That aside…

So as it seems, “Organic Banana” is going to be the soundtrack of summer 2008 in Steamboat. In the past (and I mean, waaaay back), songs/artists have been: Seal Kissed by a Rose, DMB and Concrete Blond - amongst others. And in the waaay back era, before TVs were embedded into headrests,  we’d always watch the Sound of Music on the epic drives to Colorado. And I’m not talking once in a while folks; this was a tradition (tradition!). Our parents required that “in-flight service” begin with Julie Andrews and the Von Trapps. And we never complained. A captive audience, my sister and I watched (or listened/slept) as the Sound of Music played on the small VHS tv propped on a table in the back of our mini-van, secured with bungee cords. Those bungee cords were scary at times, but this setup is clear evidence that our family was a boot-strapped early adopter of the automobile-television convergence.

The Sound of Music soundtrack was recently brought back as we watched the 40th Anniversary Edition a few nights ago. Boy did it bring back memories.  We didn’t watch the movie, just the interviews with the cast (40 years later, Julie still looks the same). And of course, the sing along at the Hollywood Bowl. What an awesome thing to see - the long lasting affects the musical had on so many people and families. It’s a classic and will always bring back memories (Dan, you picked the right audience!).

Music has that affect on the senses; I guess that’s why I always have it playing. It helps me form new memories, and keeps older ones alive. And yes, even Seal still gets some playing time for “old times sake.”

You know, there are some people in life who you wish would just lighten up. They could be fun 100% of the time if they’d just let it go sometimes. A similar group, most likely members that make up that sweet spot of a Venn diagram, also need to do things in their own right. And by that I mean many things, but in particular, they need to do things for themselves. Not in a selfish way (selfish people suck), but in a self-assurance way. As in: stop doing or not doing things because you are afraid what people may think (emphasis on “may”).

For me, this is big. Life is too short for many things, amongst those is changing your character or behavior because you think someone may be watching; someone may be judging. Well chances are, unless you are an A-list celeb, nobody’s watching (granted those who are watching may be judging, but that’s a risk I’m willing to take). Few if any people will even notice what you are up to, and fewer (again, if any) will even remember it the next minute, hour, day or more presumptuously, week later. People are too busy living their own lives to dwell on the actions of a complete stranger. Live life, it’s more exciting than watching it pass by. And I mean be silly, embrace the child in you, and stop worrying so much about what other people think. You’re just living your life in a square box…push the boundaries.

Of course, there are certain things that are not socially acceptable outside the confines of your own home (mental list running now). And then again, there are certain things that are perfect to conceal behind closed doors. Prime example, my bedroom. Kinky? No. Dirty? Yes.

When I come to Steamboat, for some reason all standards steep to a new low. Like showering on a daily basis. I know what you may be thinking: that’s so gross. Ok, well it is gross out of context. But the context here is that I rarely go into town and when I do, I rarely see anyone I know. And if I do, hell, I don’t really care what they think anyhow. So long as I don’t smell (that is a whole different standard), then I’m fine with waking up and chillin’ at the house, unchanged from yesterday aside from a clean shirt and maybe different shorts. Justification? Perhaps not. Am I going to change this? Doubtful. I also love that I can wear a tank and shorts anywhere I go without thinking twice.

Another “dirty deed” I do behind closed doors is evidenced by the state of my bedroom. In the safe-haven of SBS I don’t feel like I actually have to hide anything. So for days on end, I’ll have to look for that pair of shorts amongst my assortment of clothes littered about my room. To give you greater detail, I thought I’d give a little tour of what my room looks like now. Granted, it is only Day 4, and the worst has yet to come.

Keep in mind, none of the following has been tampered with for the purposes of this post, and it I’m referring to a 4 square foot space in my bedroom. Sitting on my bed, in my immediate line of sight, I see my blue North Face backpack from 1998 rested along the right wall; the clip at the end is touching the top and bottom to my bikini, which are shockingly within inches of each other, right next to my violet wife-beater. Clumped next to the backpack is a neatly folded navy Indiana U hoodie; touching that is a pair of salmon beach shorts. To the left of the backpack disaster area is a chair. I think it’s a comfy chair, but to my knowledge the only purpose it serves is to provide more surface area for me to toss things. It’s also much easier to collect from a chair, rather than having to bend all the way to the ground to retrieve something. On the seat of the chair is my striped blue Patagonia messenger bag with a reflective silver strip, a bright green casual tee is draped over the back - covering a pair of denim bermuda shorts - and a cute H&M brown bag is slung over the side. On the floor in front of the chair and slightly to the left is a wadded up gray t-shirt, adjoined to the Puma pants I wore on the drive out here on Thursday, which lead to a navy t-shirt overlapping a light blue pair of Adidas soccer shorts. Two feet to the left of this string of clothing is a black Nike sports bra, laying on top of a bright blue wife-beater from 2001, which are both 6 inches from a pair of navy Barca soccer shorts.

In sum, there is a ton of shit in the right quadrant of my room. But you know what, it doesn’t really bother me. At home, it would drive me nuts. But Steamboat is a place I’ve always loved because here I can kick back, relax, and let the worries of the “real world” fall by the wayside.

I guess what I’m saying is that everybody has their way of letting go, not taking things too seriously, and diverging from social norms. Life can become a repetitive pattern, and unless you add ways to keep it real, it’s gonna get boring. Don’t let it get boring. Don’t be square.

It’s always difficult getting back into the swing of things after a nice, long vacation. For instance, my fingers have lost touch with QWERTY, thus it’s taking me nearly twice as long to do anything online. Not like we didn’t have internet access in the desert (we did), but I consciously tried to stay away from it all. Admittedly, it was nice - and surprise surprise, the world still goes on.

Touring a country the size of New Jersey brought a lot of things into perspective; I learned so much about myself, my people and my life moving forward. There is so much swirling around in my head, I don’t know where to start. Oh wait, how about a Top 10 list! 

Top 10 Learnings from Israel

1. Schwarma and falafel are staples in the tourists diet; locals rarely indulge
2. Hummus is the equivalent of salt/ketchup in the US - served at every meal
3. Exploding cows are the best kind of chocolate (pop rocks in a milk chocolate candy bar)
4. Loaded AK-47s are as common as messenger bags amongst 18-21 year olds
5. Said guns have customized straps that accommodate a cell phone carrier
6. Peepee levan is a good thing. Hat, water, camera
7. Camels make hideous crying noises. So do donkeys
8. The Dead Sea helps you learn about cuts you never knew you had
9. It takes less than 45 seconds to sprint across the street to a market to purchase beer - when you know you won’t get any for days
10. Israeli men are gorgeous!!

I made so many awesome friends, memories and most importantly - “learned and experienced.” It’s strange being back stateside. After a 36 hour trip home from Tel Aviv to NYC to Minneapolis to KC, it’s good to be back, yet it feels like something is missing.  I awoke late in the night/early in the morning at home and had no clue where I was. It sure didn’t look like a kibbutz… 

With fond memories at the top of mind, for me it’s back to the real world. Where I have to try hard to find schwarma, my inbox overfloweth and the most challenging thing I’ve faced is trying to find the bottom of my inbox while staying current with new Facebook activity: friend requests, tagging, and inappropriate comments - I love it! It’s as close as I can stay to my new MOT friends at the time, and for the time being, I’ll take it. I just hope they recognize me the next time we see each other - sans dark circles and permanent bags.

There are a lot of funny things about Kansas, some of which I highlighted earlier. But my absence over the past few weeks warrants a post and I thought why not write more about this lovely place I now call home…er, a place have always called home. Like they say: you don’t realize what you had until it’s gone. Well quite frankly, I don’t fully buy that. Sometimes you realize what you have, then it is gone/leaves/disappears/whatever….but that doesn’t mean you didn’t recognize how fortunate you were to have “it” in the first place.

This has been ever relevant to me lately, especially in transition from spring to summer back here in KC. In California, rain would cripple the city. Even just some dark clouds and sprinkles falling from the sky (not the cupcakes - that would be a treat)…drivers would slam on their brakes and drive 15 mph down the 101, ignoring the fact that cars were actually designed to drive in the rain. No, the sky was not falling, and no, that was not a storm chaser flying by at 55 mph in a Ford Explorer (it was me).  

But back in Kansas, I have reconnected with the electric and thunderous lifestyle of summer storms. I’d venture to say that over the past month, the local weathermen have gotten more air time than Andy Azula, The Lakers, and the MacBook Air. And rightfully so…the storms have been crazy! Last week I went over to a friend’s house, and the power was out for over 5 hours. Luckily, this provided ample opportunity to drink beer, play Go Fish (with varying rules) and watch lightning streak across and light up the sky. Oh how I missed Kansas - phenomenal shows. 

The one thing that truly astounds (and humbles) me is that after going to bed during a tornado and flash flood warning, the black sky dotted with bolts and flashes of yellow, and thunder that literally shakes the house (all grown up now, I no longer seek shelter with my head under the covers), I wake up the next morning to blue skies and birds chirping - and the occasional downed tree or power line. It’s like I’m Dorothy, having only dreamt of the storm and waking up to peace, beauty and 100% humidity. 

Then Dorothy goes out to her car. The car she parked on the lawn the night before, under the shelter of 100 year old cedar trees in her front yard.  It’s completely strategic and in a sober state - veering 2-4 feet off the driveway to park the Acura under the long branches of the trees. I’m confident that this maneuver has saved me from hundreds of pings from hail, not to mention thousands of dollars of damage.

Yet in the morning, I see my car parked with maybe 2 wheels staked on the driveway, the front end only inches from “hitting” the trunk of a tree, and without fail I still ask myself: What happened to me last night? I can only imagine what non-Kansans think when they drive by (in my imagination, there are buses of tourists with cameras and plastic visors, pointing and gawking): “Look at that drunk! Well at least the poor fool made it somewhat onto their driveway last night.” 

It’s a good thing I have the sanity and support of my neighbors. Oh wait, few people know me back here! After 8 years of absence (and I thought it was a long time since my last post), I’m back like NKOTB.

What do you think of when you hear the term “rollerblading”? What comes to mind for me is neon clothes, tight short spandex and wrap-around sunglasses. However, this imagery has changed since I recently took up the seemingly archaic hobby of rollerblading. 

Lately (and inadvertently) I’ve been embracing my youth; I’ve had a lot of time to reflect on my life the past week. Granted, this is partially in part due to my “baby” sister graduating from college - a clear indication to the family that “we aren’t so young anymore.” Yet I’ve had quite the time, space and setting to reflect: Steamboat. For those who know me, Steamboat may seem like that redundant factor often heard in a sentence like: “Seriously, you should come hang out in Steamboat.” Wait, is it a boat? Is it on the Missisppi? For those who know their Colorado geography or me, more personally, they know it’s the untouched paradise in the Rockies - Steamboat Springs, Colorado. My family has been coming here since I was 12….13 years ago.

This most recently hit me as I decided to take up an old hobby and rollerblade the river path earlier this week, much like I did throughout my teenage years here. So I decided to dust off my rollerblades, and for the first time, acknowledge that claiming to have bigger feet that I actually do was uncomfortable. The last time I strapped those babies on was circa 1997 - when it was seemingly cool to have big feet. Yesterday, I realized it was much cooler to rock a size 8 - a size that actually fit me well. As I cruised down the river path solo yesterday, enjoying the warm Colorado sun (and natural sounds sans iPod shuffle), I gained a new appreciation for life. Truly. Life passed before my very eyes, and it was much more pleasant than the ignorant guys carrying a white-water raft mocking me with a “go rollerblade girl” as I passed them on the path. No, it was much more than that. 

Fourteen years of Steamboat passed before me. Flashes of when my sister and I ditched some two suckers while rollerblading  with the classic line of: we don’t have a telephone…to reminiscence of losing the car key in the shallow Yampa River  and thus my family electing me - in a bikini - to solicit a ride from a complete stranger (man) back to the top of the river. Point being, this place is magical for me. Years of memories, stories, bear sightings, recollective music, sun burns, hair dyes, etc…it’s all part of my childhood.

I can’t imagine what it would be like without a place like Steamboat.  A place where furs are mocked, old school is embraced, and everybody knows your name. A great place to embrace life, family and friends. From the Observatory to the Sanctuary, life couldn’t be better. 

I can imagine at this moment, my parents are breathing not just a sigh - but sighs of relief. As of this weekend,  their two girls graduated in four years from college and have promising careers. No more tuition bills, no more rent checks, no more long commencement ceremonies. And to their credit, with no debt. Three cheers for college graduates! 

My sister’s graduation this weekend from CSU reminded me of the days in college: no responsibility, and the toughest decision of the day was whether to attend class (and where to go out at night). Similar to my graduation, my parents hosted an awesome party. Contrary to most college graduation parties, ours was in the great outdoors - lakeside at Horsetooth Resevoir. Our family trekked in from Kansas City, St. Louis, Denver and Atlanta to celebrate with my sister.  

With plenty of homemade sangria (voted the best yet by the Fried-Moser family), smoked meats and side dishes (all made by the Fry clan), we had ourselves a rockin’ good time. Set lakeside with the mountains surrounding us, the party of 14 was soon joined by my sister’s friends as we all reminisced the college days and soaked up the sun. We played frisbee, dodged cactus, listened to music…all affirmations of why (in my humble opinion) our family is the very best.  

Not only do we know how to have a good time (shots all around last night), but we also know each other on a more personal level and are able to lend support when needed. From advising others not to use the outhouses to providing a shield for those using the great outdoors instead (thanks Cindy!), we are always there for each other. My advice for the day was: when going to the outhouse, make sure you are all “undone” before entering. 

Other advice was dispersed throughout the weekend. My immediate family of four went to the New Belgium brewery for a brew tour. Every day, they have a new “expression” - in short, this is a question which each patron answers as a means to identify their selected brews to taste. The four of us nestled up at the bar and placed our orders for four samplers accordingly. Our server came by and announced the expression of the day was (in light of graduation): what advice would you give to someone for the future? I will leave you with the parting advice from my family, as per our tasting sheet at the brewery: 

  

Laura (graduate): Smile!   

Mom: Be smart - don’t do dope.

Dad: Don’t wait until you’re dead.

Me: Don’t fuck up.

From this, I think we can all easily see that Laura is meant for a profession in teaching. She is positive, to the point and optimistic. The rest of us are imparting our wisdom of what what not to do - perhaps from personal experience. While this is all good advice, Laura seems to have it right. Smile and the world smiles with you.  

My mom and dad smile because they will never have to write another check to CSU or IU again. Laura smiles because she has a job! And I smile because, well, why not. 

In Juno, as with many others in real life, Bleeker’s favorite meal is breakfast for dinner. Well, in our family, it has been a long-standing tradition to eat dessert for breakfast whenever possible. Today was one of those days.

We had an office BBQ last Friday, which provided the entire office with leftovers for lunch today (since we are the closest thing to BFE, and farthest from civilization / restaurants, it was well received).  Amongst a delicious spread of BBQ meats and side dishes, there was a meal in and of itself - desserts. We have our very own dessert extraordinaire - Cindy. She brought two homemade chocolate pies (a la french silk, only my favorite), angel food cake with fresh strawberries, and brownies. Not only was it all delicious on Friday (I had to sample all of them to effectively announce my favorite), but it hit the spot this morning. 

I was having a weird morning this morning…something is definitely off with me today. I woke up, hair was looking crazy because I fell asleep with it wet, yet I didn’t feel like doing anything to mask the mess (wet it down or put on a hat). Nor did I particularly feel like wearing normal clothes for a workday, like jeans.  Instead, I rolled into the office in soccer shorts and a hoodie, with my hair pulled back. Hot, I know. 

But my day was saved when I strolled into the kitchen for my morning graze (at 10:45) only to find none other than the leftover desserts! And the perfect amount for me. So I made myself a nice little breakfast: small remnants of the brownie (clearly my mom beat me to the punch), a slice of chocolate pie, all covered in strawberries. Yummm. Who ever said that breakfast had to be nutritious? All I ever hear is the breakfast is most important meal of the day. I totally agree - especially when it’s dessert for breakfast.