Ka Lae (Southernmost tip of the United States), Kailua Kona, and the Kai (ocean)

Kailua Kona is the personification of a beachfront/oceanfront community.  With an aura of pure relaxation, inviting restaurants, cantina-like bars, and the rising and falling tide playing a rhythmic jubilant tune, it exudes “Copacabana.”  I’m down with Barry Manilow. 

On the preivous blog I gave context to the city at a given place in time, so my point of view is one sided, but let’s spend more time discussing the weekend from a non-ironman standpoint.  The poor planning and organization (to which I was primarily hands off, with the exception of the car) left us houseless and carless two days prior to flight.  A last minute beach condo came through, however, and the location fell slightly below perfection (there, after all, was no AC; Ha!)  On a scale of 1 being a shack in Death Valley and 10 being my place in Waikiki, I gift this place a 9.1.  A few miles from downtown, hopping, Jack Johnson Kailua Kona (the city reminds me of a Jack Johnson song), it WAS the ideal spot. 

By the time the cab dropped us off and we situated ourselves at the condo, it was already 7pm.  A couple of the guys went to grab alcohol while Whitney, Tiffany, and I stayed back to drink the leftover beer in the fridge.  After Tiffany decided to get ready for the night, I ditched Whitney to make a phone call out on the lanai.  Turning around to make a jibe to her regarding whom I was going to call, I laughed and

THWACK!!! 

Usually when someone feels something press against them while they are walking, they stop.  Oh not this guy.  Turning around after making the comment, I walked face first into the screen door, BUT KEPT GOING.  It was as if my body told me it was there, but my mind couldn’t process the fact that something was physically in my way.  The end result wasn’t pretty, and the screen door didn’t stand a chance.  I knocked it off the track, ripped through the bottom half, and as we slow motioned our way to the floor, beer flew everywhere.  Twisted, tangled with this pliable piece of metal, another thud reverberated throughout the condo; looking around, Whitney fell into an epileptic fit of laughter on the floor.

 Friday night included dinner and drinks at Huggo’s, a spectacular oceanfront restaurant with decent specialty cocktails. Saturday brought on the ironman, but post event included a couple of hours of experiencing the nightlife.  A proper journey back home wouldn’t be proper without liquid courage, so we stopped at Lulu’s.  On the way to the top floor, I saw a man forgo drinking the rest of his full cocktail, and naturally felt inclined to comment on the situation. 

“Hey, what the heck are you doing?” I commented, “Nobody ditches out on the rest of the drink.” 

The guy turned to me, laughed, and tried to pawn it off.  Instead, I simply encouraged him to come with the group and finish the rest of cocktail.  His guest, waiting impatiently at the bottom of the stairs, trudged her feet coming back up to the second floor.   Cocktails, shots, beers, and laughs later, I found out this gentlemen previously ran the ironman in under 10hrs, hailed from South Africa, and helped us enjoy the Kailua Kona nightlife.  Besides the fact that he could barely stand (still debating on whether or not it were due to drunkenness or lactic acid), the highlight of the night was a blend between when co-worker Eddie commented on a cute girl sitting at a table with a friend and other guys and the guy trying to do a vertical jump onto the bar.  Regarding the comment and before even completing the statement, South Africa sprinted over to help Eddie find a lady.  Regarding the standing leap, the guy actually pulled it off!

The rough alarm clock (ocean waves crashing) did little to soothe my pounding headache the next morning, but after a cup of coffee and breakfast, Eddie, Tiffany, Kristina and I jumped into the boat, our special edition Lincoln town car, give me a break-it was all they had left, departing south of the city.  Just outside of Captain Cooke bay (where he was stabbed to death), we decided that it would be more memorable to venture to the southernmost tip of the United States and cliff jump.  Geez, Talk about a brash decision. 

Weaving through hairpin turns with little shoulder room at an elevation over 1,500 feet, we completed the expedition to find windmills.  No, I am not kidding, windmills.  From Blooming Prairie I can trek 15 minutes and find ample windmills thanks in part to McNeilus, but never would I imagine that we would risk life and death to come across (expletive) windmills.  Surprised, I was thankful enough to realize that this was not the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow.  Past the dozens of worn iron paper wheels emerged an interesting, rugged cliff side….and now for the jump. 

I don’t know about any of you, but walking along the elevated cliff, looking at the jagged rocks 100 feet below, I couldn’t help but think that a slip here, a stumble there, and I would fall into a Picasso-like mess of bone and skin only to be washed away by the rising tide.  These are natural thoughts, right?  Well, no need to answer my own rhetorical question, but I am terrified of heights.  The only way to conquer this would be to face the fear head on; for those of you cognitive behavioral theorists, this process is called exposure. 

What heightened the danger of the fear facing mission was the method for returning from the 50 foot jump.  To complete the mission, We would have to climb up an Indian Jones-esque rusted over, swaying ladder.  Not giving my fears but two seconds to run wild, I stripped down (talk about exposure)…

To my swimsuit (just wanted to give you a visual).  Giving myself one last pep talk, “Kraig, if that 6 year old boy can do this, so can you.  Oh, and if you don’t, Kristina will think you are a coward,” my legs jellowed out beneath me and I tripped!

Clinging to the top of the cliff with one hand I couldn’t help but think about the impeding pain below.  Not death, but shear misery from the awkward fall to come.  With blood starting to trickle down from my Stallone style cliffhanger grasp, I managed to swing my other arm onto another rock to pull myself up. 

A blink later, and after the Final Destination glimpse, it was time. 

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!

I two stepped (a local Hawaiian wahine called it two stepping) and threw myself off the cliff screaming the majority of the way down to the ocean.  The cold, salty ocean gave me instant feedback about the quality of my jump; forgetting to execute a perfect pencil, my bum’s soreness could still be felt at work two days later. 

What an exhilarating experience?!  To jump, for the most part, without hesitation and be welcomed by the inviting blue water, sends chills through my arms as I type this.  Sure I am still scared as hell of heights; No, I will not go hang gliding; Yes, I do think about Valleyfair rides crashing every time I am on the top of the Wild Thing roller coaster.  But to go through and meet this goal is overwhelmingly satisfying. 

Ha, and now the funny part.  My co-worker Tiffany, a cute, bubbly, and fantastic person was arguably the most hesitant person in the group to jump.  After nani Kristina jumped, she found a fickle form of courage.  Pause for laughter. 

Clearly instructed to jump like a pencil, Tiffany’s execution ranked last of the four, but in terms of splash, blew the competition out of the water.  Flying through the air, her upper body remained calm, but her legs acted as if they were running a sprint.  The constant movement of her leg’s forced some type of imbalance and she slowly started to lean backwards.  It was almost as if seeing a swan swimming gracefully on top of the water knowing that the legs were moving at full steam; in this case, we could see below the water. 

THWAT!

The impact twisted my stomach and I thought she was going to cry.  Instead, up popped this girl all smiles (sore and shocked) but smiling up a storm.  What a catching attitude!

Already a week later, Tiffany recently told me that bruises cover her upper thigh and butt.  Haha.  Funny stuff. 

That’s it folks.  Another long blog.  Enjoy the weekend and the photos below. 

A hui hou kakou (Until we meet again)

I…..Am…..IronMan…. (or Woman, don’t want to be sexist here)

Last weekend ranks as one of the most memorable weekends of my life; for those of you that know me, I am not one to offer up outlandish comments like this one (ha!). Side Note-Man on Fire is one of Denzel Washington’s best movies, and he IS a solid actor.

Why do I make this comment?

Location, motivation, atmosphere, people.

If you are unfamiliar with what an Ironman competition consists of, here you go; it is a swim of 2.4 miles, 112 mile bike, and a marathon (26.2 miles)! Are you kidding me?! How many of you have actually run 10 miles straight? I know I sure haven’t.

The Kona Ironman, also known as the world championships, puts the best of the best to the test (great rhymes DJ Kraig). If by some chance a person wins the lottery, they are thrown in the recreational division, but for everyone else, they must qualify at another Ironman. I know what you are thinking, and no, these people are not unemployed and single. The majority, from what was visible at the aid station, were seemingly normal, family going individuals. But, what eventually sets them apart from everyone else...mental toughness and pain management.

Great tangent and subtext Kraig, where do you fit in?

A co-worker of mine, ET, put volunteering at the World Championships on our radar from the moment we stepped foot on O’ahu. After a few phone calls, conversations with a volunteer coordinator, and last second logistic planning, four of my co-workers and myself set our course for Hawai’I, the big island. We woke up at a reasonable hour to get ready for the big day, eat breakfast, and take off for the aid station; I personally woke up at 6am due to the sound of crashing waves just outside our ocean front rental property. Hey, don’t judge, sleep is sleep. By the time we arrived at the aid station for mile marker #1 (of the marathon) it was 11am, and after debriefs and set up, we were all set to greet the runners.

To put even more context to this event, the professionals are given a 30 minute start, putting them in the water around 6:30am, followed by the professional women, and then the age qualifiers. With our positioning and timing, the pros were to be showing up any second.

In order to maximize my talents, I thought the lead director was going to place me at the high priority location, something like sponges, ice, water, you name it. But, as a way of staying out of the spotlight, I dodged these spots (way to put the point of volunteering to the test), and headed for the shadows. Yep, spot on…I was the ‘Cola’ man.

Buzzer! Helicopter! Scooter! Police car!

With the leaders closing in on our aid station, the entire group of 25+ volunteers scrambled to their position. After kicking a 3 year old, cursing at his parents for not putting him on a leash, making fun of the porn star volunteer next to me (was that his wife?), I put myself in the Warrior Two position (yoga), closed my eyes, and reached out my cup of cola.

Blink.

The leader was gone.

The guy, on some type of accelerant, went through the aid station quicker than it takes someone to pronounce the state fish of Hawaii…Humumunukunukuapua

Dejected that Coke was not the first choice of the leader, I picked myself up by poking a couple of jibes at my neighbor actor’s fruit display, and waited…and waited…

Buzzer! Helicopter! Scooter! Police car!

5 minutes later, we were at it again, and nothing was going to sop me this time; I was going to do anything to ensure coke was the number one target. Okay, here he comes. Dang, he is cruising.

“COKE!!!!!” I screamed. “COKE!!!!!!” I screamed reaching out my hand with the cup and when he snatched it out of my grasp, my mission was complete; the #2 guy digs coke. But, #3, provided feedback for my buddy ET.

ET, next to me, and in charge of the ice cups, offered it up to numero tres, I think he was European. Anyways, the runner grabbed it, went for a drink, but to no avail, not even get a drop of water. Sure enough, HE SPIKED IT ON THE GROUND! And even worse, he yelled profanities. “Put some Bleepin’ stuff in these cups!” If you ask me, he isn’t going to win a race with THAT attitude.

The next 4 hours were a blur of sponges, ice, garbage duty, coke, smile, Perform! (energy drink), and, of course, a plethora of “Good Jobs, Keep it going!” One particular time while on garbage detail, I mistakenly stopped by the port-a-potty to pick up a sponge….pause for gag…to hear a guy screaming at me. “Hey Mate, hey, hey. Unzip me. Grab the zipper, unzip me.” Taken aback by the boldness of the comment for a split second, I put on my Ironman face and unzipped that gentleman’s…………………………back of his outfit. This volunteer is comfortable with his sexuality.

Aside from the comics above, and to focus on the meaning of ironman, the event’s purpose focuses on individuality with ‘overcoming adversity’ as a close second. From seasoned veterans in their 70’s to a freshmen in college, wives, husbands, veterans, disabled, both the cumulative and individual respect that I have for these people is unfathomable.
After taking a break from volunteering, running to the airport to pick up friend of mine, and cleaning up, we walked back down to the heart of Kailua Kona to see some of the racers and be close to the finish line. Getting closer to the restaurant we picked out, a noticeable individual came into view. Legs amputated from knees down and missing his left arm, one could imagine why this man would stand out. To be perfectly honest, I did not notice him for his unfortunate physical barriers; this guy wore an ear to ear smile that I will never forget.

On that note, on overcoming barriers, and that image, I am bringing this blog post to a close.

Pictures are becoming a recurring theme so below is another photo slideshow of the Ironman portion of our trip to the big island.

I feel like I should say something inspirational right now, but those words tend to escape me; instead, as I find myself unable to sleep at midnight thirty in Chicago, a man to whom I respect dearly always told us every Saturday following a game, “Gentlemen, tell your parents you love them,” so with that in mind, “Parents, I love you.”

Friends…Diddo!

Howlies, Wahines, and Napo'o 'ana o ka las

In Blooming Prairie I was not a minority.  With a dense Caucasian percentage (roughly 95%) relative to total population, I simply did not run into any type of ethnic discrimination on a recurring basis, nor did I ever participate in any discrimination, as a recipient or as a perpetrator. 

In Hawaii, I am a Haole (pronounced how-lee).  To most of the non-Asian tourists that visit the Islands of Hawaii it means foreigner or not a local. After you live on the islands for a while it typically becomes a racial, derogatory word for whites.  Recently, I did some research and found that there are several instances to the origin, such as:

1. Foreigner

2. Breathless

3. Evil White Man; Aka Captain Cook; this can also be misconstrued because when Cook first arrived, he was also thought of as a spirit; Hence, some misinterpretation of the ‘no breath’ comments

Here are a couple of my ‘Haole’ stories. 

Two Monday’s ago (geez it’s been a while since I have written), my coworkers were kind enough to drop me off at the local food pantry a block away from our condo.  Unable to make a decision on what I wanted to eat, I decided to venture around, laptop case in one hand, blackberry in the other.  For a further visual, my Hawaiian business attire included: navy blue dress pants, tan/brownish slip on dress shoes, and a tucked in, light blue, Hawaiian aloha dress shirt.  Yes folks, my hair WAS gelled (love painting pictures).  Finally stopping at a crosswalk (this haole doesn’t J walk), I pulled out my blackberry to check a message.  Sure enough, up walks a middle aged, shirtless, Hawaiian gentlemen wearing a backpack (packed with who knows what), shorts, and running shoes.  Close enough to tell he must have been working out without deodorant on, or drinking, the gentlemen stared at me.  Trying to avoid confrontation, I kept looking at my blackberry.  Sure enough, the gentlemen continued to stare at me, but this time I acknowledged him.  Instantaneously, the local looked down at my blackberry, again, stared at me, hocked a big loogie, launched it inches from my shoes (it was dark brown BTW), and walked away. 

By the time my jaw finished bungee jumping, the same guy walked over to the Haole next to me, who was coincidentally looking at his blackberry and performed the same ritual.  Like most sequels, it was less impressive, BUT I almost gave the guy $5 for the gutsy performance.  Oh yeah, did I mention that he was roughly 5’6”, 145? 

Oh, don’t worry, the story doesn’t end there. 

Finally, the walking sign gave us the go ahead, and, upon establishing our new Haole support group, the gentlemen to my left (we are going to call him Bob) and I started walking across the street.  Feeling left out, our local friend (let’s call him Bill, short for William), decided to follow us.  Sensing the frustration from being kicked out of the support group that he quickly founded, Bill quickened his pace.  Meanwhile, walking directly towards us as we crossed the path was another haole business man, and, much to your surprise, Bill noticed him.  Shifting his red-eyed target from Bob and myself to the new guy, Bill halted him dead in his tracks, undressed the gentlemen with his eyes, and hocked his third loogie in as many minutes.  Where on earth does this guy find all that spit?

There is yet another story, but I promise to keep this one short.  Later in the week, October 1^st to be exact, the gang and I travelled to downtown Chinatown for First Friday.  Missing a majority of the actual First Friday events, we simply made reservations at a restaurant called the Indigo Room.  Prior to our reservation, we grabbed cocktails split up into smaller groups of conversation, and were simply killing time prior to the dinner.  My co-worker, a nice, attractive young lady often confused as a local stood talking to me and another Caucasian co-worker.  Instantly, muscle bound clowns started tossing jibes at Tim (co-worker) and me.

‘Haole! Haole! Haole!’ They continued to chant.  Tim had no idea what that meant, but it was obviously targeted towards us.

The chanting soon subsided, but unfortunately, not their silliness.  The circus was in town for the entire night.  Next, mid conversation, tweedle dum from the pocket full of local homies, bent down behind my co-worker and faked sniffing his butt.  Are you kidding me? He physically sniffed his a$$.  No matter what severity of discrimination, views of another individual, or whether it is warranted or not, this is completely uncalled for.  Heck, regardless, a person’s butt is going to smell; I am pretty sure a Haole’s won’t be any different. 

Despite the minor discrimination hiccups, this remarkable state continues to surprise me.  Perhaps one of the best surprises has been the quality time spent with a particularly beautiful Wahine (woman). 

I am going to keep the suspense running with this one, so if you have any questions, please post a comment and a detailed message as to why you want to know these details. 

Finally, a challenge to all of you…The last phrase I have in the title above means (beautiful sunsets).  Below is a new slide show full of sunsets taken from various spots on the islands of O’ahu or Hawai’i.  The person who views the slideshow and submits the best (according to me) caption to one of the photos, will receive a bag of delicious, ground Kona Coffee.  If you don’t like coffee, get with the program, or perhaps, I will ship you a bag of Macadamia nuts.  We will see. 

Peace Homes.  Miss you all. 

Oh, by the way, future blogs to come include:

1. Kona Ironman

                a. inspirational gentlemen (with a smile)

                b. John, South Africa

                c. Team Bonding and Lincoln Town Car Special Edition

2. Southern Point Heroics

                a. Old Lady Pie Shop

                b. Cliff Jumping

3. Lagoon/Haleiwa (hol-e-ay-va)

Hello, Again...Hello; I am just calling to say, "Hello"

One of my favorite things about this island is waking up (usually around 6am), grabbing breakfast, a cup of coffee, and walking out onto the lanai to enjoy the scenery.  No thoughts, no worries, pure observation. 

For your context, it is currently noon on a beautifully, sunny, yet windy Saturday and I am sitting on Tommy's couch out in Ko'Olina watching the Arkansas-Alabama football game...Ingram knows how to play the game of football.  But, before we continue, don't assume that because I am on my computer right now that I am recovering from a late night (it was, by the way) or fighting off a couple of late night cocktails (me? kocktail kraig?). 

Last night was a special occasion; it is Tommy Nordling's last weekend on O'ahu.  He will be pursing a wonderful career and personal opportunity, seeking managerial responsibilities of his own store and 'hopefully' a future engagement with his stunning, long term girlfiend Kaley.  To continue on, we were invited out to his boss's place for a send off bar-b-que.  With a large Target contingency, John (the boss) instantly huddled everyone together to share favorite stories of Tommy.  From his endearing nature, contagious personality (can be said about this entire core group of individuals), to recurring accounts of sincerity, and of course, wonderful humor, it was special to witness these tears, laughs, and reflections. 

Although the opportunity did not present itself to share a personal story about Tommy, this forum allows endless chances.  Without further adieu, here is the speech that I whipped up while listening to the others last night:

First, I want to thank you for coming to Tommy and my one month anniversary.  It is fantastic to have this crowd of people to share and rejoice in our love.  Most of you do not even know who I am, Hello, my name is Kraig Olson, but that is beside the point.  Some of you have heard the phrase that behind every hard working man is a beautiful woman (to some variation).  Well, in our case, this is basically true, 'behind every hard working man (myself) is an even better looking, harder working, more sincere man (point to Tommy). 

My friend Patrick Riordan (also a Target ETL...if you don't know the acronym, get with the program) would occasionally talk about Tommy and his escapades in Hawaii, but I took that for granted; he said, Tommy is a great guy, an absolute fantastic individual.  For those of you who know Pat or even don't, he isn't one to necessarily talk too much about items like this.  Well, do you know what, Pat couldn't have been further from the truth.  Tommy is not just a fantastic individual; he is the best of individuals. 

That would be an initial kick off speech, but for a specific story about Tommy, perhaps this will give you a glimpse.  After flying back from Minneapolis, Tommy and Jeff encouraged me to stopy by Gordan Biersch (sp) for dinner.  With it's close proximity to a fine family restaurant (cough, cough, Hooters), you can guess where we went after dinner.  Exhausted after the beer and knowing that my birthday was the next day, I called it a night, but that didn't stop these guys.  Long story short, someone, by sheer happenstance, encountered the 24 hr flu. 

Later that weekend, everyone came over to my place in Waikiki and the first thing that Mr. Nordling did was present to me a birthday gift.  Genuinely saddened at the fact he couldn't make the b-day festivities, he bought me a Crown Royal Reserve bottle of whiskey.  I couldn't have asked for more. 

Overall, Tommy is going to be greatly missed, and I only hope and pray to stay in close contact with him over the years to come. 

***

I feel the long windedness and can take a hint.  So, what is happening the rest of the weekend?  Here is the potential plan:
1. Pool in a half an hour at my place
2. Grocery shopping
3. Grilling by the pool
4. Yardhouse-Bar with over 100 beers on tap!
5. Vikings = 7am
6. Sunday fun day (workout/beach/friends)
7. Invited to another gathering Sunday afternoon in Diamondhead

Should be an entertaining weekend and I look forward to enjoying the endless sunshine.

Oh yeah, by the way, I went on two dates this weekend and couldn't have asked for anything more; they were incredible.

You Travel for Work?! Exciting! How often?

The interesting thing about the travel requirements on this project is going through with them.  As I sit on my parents couch in Blooming Prairie, MN at 5:50 am CT, watching repeated chick flicks, (sorry folks, this is all that is on TV right now), I can’t help but think that this is the perfect time to blog.  Knowing of the delirium that consumes me right now, brace yourself for a whirlwind of comments. 

I asked a group of my friends this the other day, “What’s your airplane?”  For those of you that aren’t down with pop culture, or hip hop music to be exact, B.O.B performs a tune titled Airplanes.  The chorus opens the song with this line:

Can we pretend that airplanes in the night sky are like shooting stars? I can really use a wish right now.

At first I was pretty naïve, material in fact at the concept of what I would wish for, but as this idea of looking up at the stars and wishing/hoping for an event to happen lingers on, I abruptly halt materialistic fantasies (wealth, cars, jobs-consider this material) and shift focus.  What lies on the end of the street, just after the skid marks of my own vision, is passion; No, not that kind of passion. 

The truth of the matter is that my airplane, my wish, my passion is to help people; I love teaching, coaching, and pray that I continue to be placed in positions where these talents are maximized.  Sitting on the plane the other day next to an entrepreneur who recently sold his company, the audacity of this gentleman shocked me into a startling realization.  At first the discussion (more of a presentation if you ask me) seemed to fit the mold of basic natter, but abruptly shifted to unexpectedly relatable topics.  The man said that after he sold his company, a piece of himself left, and now as he was getting paid to assist in the transition, he felt like a whore.  I didn’t know how to respond.  Other people around me did; they put on their headphones. 

Avoiding diving into “Life Lessons with Kraig 101,” I found this interesting and will simply leave it at that, cutting off the potential pages of reflection. 

So…How? Why? What on earth am I doing typing this early in the morning? Why am I not in Hawaii?

I was fired. 

JUST KIDDING. 

Once a month for the next three months I have training in Chicago.  Here was the flight schedule:

1. Depart Hawaii at 10:30pm HST (3:30am CST)

2. Connect in San Francisco, CA and depart at 8:30am PST (11:30am CST)

3. Arrive in Minneapolis, MN at 2:20 PM CST

4. Drive to home in New Brighton and stay there until 5:00PM

5. Return to Airport and have conference call.

6. Depart Minneapolis at 7:45 PM CST

7. Arrive in Chicago at 9:00PM

8. Training Friday morning.

9. Depart Chicago at 3:30PM CST

10. Arrive in Minneapolis at 5PM CST

11.  Depart Minnesota at 11:45am CST on Monday

With this instability, my clock, time zone, whatever you want to call it, has absolutely no idea what is happening.  Since Wednesday at 10am CST (5am HST when I woke up), total sleep time is 16 hrs. 

It’s Sunday.

Whoa, end of The Notebook, sad. 

At 6:15am CST (1:15am HST), I am going to force myself to take a nap.  After all, I tee off with Chris Stenzel and the Princess (Dave Albrecht) at 8:30am in Byron.  Watch out world. 

What is it? (The opening month's theme)

9/11-With the intent to write a daily journal entry since my arrival August 16th, it's strange, almost unnerving to find it already September 11th.  Yes, I am not going to just glance over the symbolism or even monumental moment in US History, but this journal, my history, is going to push the nation to the bench.  Is it unpatriotic for me to think/say that?

The four and a half weeks since arrive have been a whirlwind of "what seemed to be" headless chickenesque efforts at work, tiptoeing captain obvious project risks, adjusting to paradise (it IS an adjustment), endless partying, and, leading the marathon events, establishing new friends in this isolated place.  But, first, here is a quick run through of events:

• August 16th-Arrival
• August 17th-20th-Work (Observations, process flows, team meetings, blah)
• August 20-23rd-Party too hard w/ Jeff Barlow (Meet Tommy Nordingling; He is a solid guy)
• Auust 23rd-24th-Work/Project Kick Off/Summit
• August 24th-Red Eye to Portland
• August 25th-Old Client visit
• August 26th-27th-Conference in Portland
• August 28th-Chris Cole's Wedding
• August 29th-Fantasy Draft/Lunch with Family
• August 30th-Flight/Dinner with Tommy, Jeff (Introduced to Ken)
• August 31st-September 3rd-Bday/Work/Team Context/Work
• September 4th-Hang out with Jeff
• September 5th-Jeff at KoO'lina/Lagoons/Tommy (Introduced to Kristina!)
• September 6th-No Jeff; Tommy/Kristina and 'Secret Beach' in KoO'lina (Introduced to LeAnne/Aaron Stinar), Snorkel, Turtles
• September 7th-10th-Work/Invited to Tommy/Kristina's for Vikings game
• September 10th-Invited to Driving Range, Dinner with the Stinars (Meet Josh Stinar, Charlie,Kumi); Other notable attendees include: LeAnne and Kristina
• September 11th-Group Barbeque at the Condo (Stinars, Charlie, Kumi, Ashley A (Co Worker), Tiffany (Co Worker), Jenn (Tiffany's Friend), Kristina)/Coconut Willies/Early Night
• September 12th-Kraig Day

Definitely no shortage of movement nor energy wasted.  Life is a ride that is taking me to places I never dreamed imaginable. 

What subjects am going to write about: 1) Work 2) Friends 3) Girls (what type of Kraig Olson blog wouldn't be complete without this one, right?

Work is going to be interesting here and I am slowly dusting off the cobwebs, itching, ready to sprint as if I am regaining feeling in my legs.  But unfortunately, you can't sprint before you can walk and I am working on progressing to a speedwalk right now.  By Tuesday, I will be sprinting and the work pace/dedication/effort WILL be back to normal.  More to come next blog. 

Perhaps the most intriguing piece about the time I have spent here shifts towards connectors.  Malcom Gladwell wrote about connectors.  Take a second and see if you can already begin to think of what the subject of the following paragraphs will be.

Jeff Barlow is a connector: Contagious personality, positive attitude, never ending smile, wide eyed deer in headlight look, and a genuine love for people (BTW, Jeff might be more fickle than I am folks). 

It's true; Time flies.  Two years passed since I last partied with Jeff and we picked up where we left out...Out of Control.  No details necessary here, but the nights have been a blast.  No, no women, no silly hook ups, no overly unusual antics, but just pure fun. 

Somewhere in the midst of all the fun, however, Jeff is the center point for 12-15 additional, non work, friends that I now have as part of my inner circle.  I listed them above (Tommy, Ken, Kelsi, Kelli, Kristina, Aaron, Josh, Leanne, Charlie, Kumi, Katie, just to name a few).  It's incredible and I only look forward to the days, weeks and months to come. 

It would be one thing to rant and rave about Jeff's ability to connect people to people, but the most important thing to bring up is Jeff's ability to connect Quality People to Quality People.  Each of these people's is unique, varyin backgrounds, life paths, but at the core of each of them is a specific trait...Caring.  Sure there are spin offs of the word: generosity, sincerity, honesty, etc., but it ultimately comes down to the fact that each person, each male, each female appears to care about the individual first. 

That's it, that's some of the moments and recurring items on my daily, weekly plate.  These blogs are going to become more frequent.  Ideally daily, but if I fail to live up to this expectation, well, wait patiently for the next journal entry. 

Love Everyone.

Oh yeah, watched Pay it Forward today; interesting show, neat concept.  Let's start.