2011 in polaroids

In September 2010, my parents' home, which sits on a bluff in Pine Island, Minnesota, was among thousands of homes that suffered from flood damage in southern Minnesota. The basement was submerged and my parents spent the entire winter cleaning carpets and throwing away relics stashed from the past. When visiting in March 2011, an unfamiliar rainbow cube caught my eye in the damp laundry room. Inside the worn, colorful box was my father's Polaroid Super Shooter Land Camera, a $5 purchase from a thrift store in the seventies. I brought that camera back to the Twin Cities with me and it accompanied me for most of the year.

Joshua Tree, California — April 2011

A month after finding the camera, I flew to Los Angeles to visit my boyfriend. We took a vacation to the Mojave Desert and stayed at the famous Joshua Tree Inn & Motel. I brought along color and black and white film, only to find the black and white finicky. It only produced one nice photo at the very end of the pack.

Minneapolis, MN — May 2011

Sanden flew into Minneapolis for the wedding of Molly Bloom and Andy Ducett and little did we know hard winds were following. The day these photos were taken, I had brought Sanden to Art-a-Whirl to see my Artcrank poster. The clouds rolled in menacingly and we decided to head back to Uptown. While we fled Northeast Minneapolis, a violent tornado struck North Minneapolis, separated only by Highway 94. Unaware of the disaster just a few miles away, we played in the rain.

Memorial Day, Minneapolis, MN — May 2011

Memorial Day felt like a regular Monday this year. My savior after a hard holiday spent at work was a barbecue thrown by Jared A. May.

My Birthday — June 2011

I took these photos just before Etta jumped into my face and gave me a fat lip. And that happened just before my roommate ambushed me in our own apartment with a surprise party.

Rock the Garden, Minneapolis, MN — June 2011

I didn't have the stomach to take on Rock the Garden in its entirety this year, especially a rainy one. So we stood outside the fence and tapped our toes to what we could hear of Neko Case's set.

Strawberry Basket, Monticello, MN — June 2011

Strawberries make a popping noise when you pull them off the vine. I picked a pound more than I needed to make strawberry jams because of this discovery.

Gold Rush, Oronoco, MN – August 2011

Etta slipped a disc before the Bark at Art poster show and the next four weeks were spent trying to keep her comfortable while under medical treatment during a incessant heat wave. She did enjoy being carried around Gold Rush.

Casey Quinn's Memorial – August 2011

Casey's tribute was my first experiment with Flash Cubes. Like the goal to launch 34 lanterns for Casey's 34th birthday, the cubes proved to be rather unsuccessful. I ended up sharing the photography of Justin Mueller when I blogged about the event.

Minnesota State Fair – September 2011

These photos were suppose to be a part of a blog post about the Fair that never came intro fruition due to some scanner issues. But the highlights were the heat, the food, the group karaoke, the food and the glitter bombing.

Oktoberfest and Amery, Wisconsin – October 2011

Arlie raced in the St. Paul Dachshund Races and performed well above expectations. He also had the opportunity to meet the Kaiser, himself. After our Oktoberfest adventure we visited my cousin in Amery, Wisconsin, where I spent summers as a child.

new year's resolution: accomplished

At the end and beginning of each year, my twitter feed is twice beaten over by hashtags marking the creation and progress of New Year's Resolutions. As if being trapped inside during the winter wasn't bad enough, now people feel the need to impress upon the world every boring gluten-free calorie they intake and photos of every weather-neglecting, frivolous outfit they appropriated in their quest to look like Zooey Deschanel. You get my drift. By April, most of the design-a-day blogs are abandoned and I have been annoyed by these pursuits of nothing for nothing.

If you google searched every phrase I've ever uttered, "I'm perfect" will deliver "Did you mean: 'well-intentioned'?". I have failed to stay with the time-suck that was flat-track derby. Ten pounds were gained this year, instead of lost (see: quitting derby). My long-distance boyfriend and I are still a year-long blinking contest: who will move first? There were minor goals that failed as well like finding an image for the 100 Most Beautiful Words in the English Language. And my journey to an exclusively plant-based, whole foods diet is resembling more a plight.

At the end of 2010, there were a lot of articles being passed around about the "social reality" in relation to the goals or resolutions we make. We achieve enough satisfaction by informing others of our dreams that we feel less committed to actually finishing them. Derek Sivers talked about it on TED (here's his write up):

Around the same time, I had an idea and I was determined not to tell a single person until it was accomplished. This goal was to play in front of a crowd.

Play what, Jordan? The Sims for an audience? You're going to have to put in a lot more effort than not telling anyone.

Shut up, brain, or I'll stab you with a Q-tip. I know that. And I ignored that until the end of July when I purchased my mandolin. In mid-August, I started picking away at Keep on the Sunnyside and Down in the Valley with Brianna Lane. In October, she sheepishly smiled at me and asked if I wanted to join the Fall Recital being held by Twin Town Guitars. It was being held at the Whiskey Junction and I would be able to enjoy whiskey, children's performances and the ukulele group as well. My secret New Year's Resolution had its opportunity. Yes. I would play a recital despite not having the excuse of being eight years-old should I mess up.

Saturday evening, I arrived at the venue to find that the children I'd be following were very, very adorable and talented. As the youngin's portion of the program ended, they filtered out with their parents to be replaced by genuine Whiskey Junction clientele. Not what I exactly signed up for. Where were the parents who were going to sympathize with me? I'm in my mid-twenties and trying something new here! I need low expectations.

Oh well, Melissa Lo documented my travels through the many stages (get it) of stage fright.

While we were waiting, I showed off how I now have to cut my left hand's nails extremely short to be able to capture the best tone on the mandolin. I am constantly and unnecessarily pointing this detail out to avoid people assuming I'm like Curley of Of Mice and Men. Everyone's mind travels to subversive sexual details mentioned in Steinbeck novels from 1937, right? (I am not missing a digit either, this photo was just caught funny.)

These are the eyes of a woman who is not used to doing this. In this picture, I'm secretly plotting to throw the music stand into the nice man here, jump the four feet from the stage to the ground and then exit without cracking my mandolin on the skull of one of the few remaining children.

The shadow of this stand conveniently hides how I have wet my stretch pants.

Oh no, I'm smiling like a ten year-old who knows someone's taking a photo of them.

The beginning was awful. I don't even know what song I was singing. The words were coming out but probably in a tune closer to Barney's I Love You versus Will the Circle be Unbroken. Brianna looks rightfully afraid.

I found if I closed my eyes firmly, I could only feel the dead pan stare of 150 middle-aged motor cyclists.

It's over! No one boo'd and I was greeted with encouraging praise despite missing most of the chord changes and barely meeting the remedial vocal requirements to perform this little diddy. Will I do it again? Yes. And better.

I would like to thank Jared A. May and Melissa Lo for showing up and taking photos and video of this whole ordeal. The video? That will be sent to no one other than Sanden Totten, another I would like to thank. He's been a great support in helping me accomplish all these crazy dreams of mine, even from a couple thousand miles away. Forest Taylor, Arlie and Etta have tolerated my endless practicing over the last few months like champs. And I'd like to thank Brianna Lane, who is an excellent and creative teacher.

designing my first cross stitch

This will probably come to no reader of my blog as any surprise, but as a child, I was a Girl Scout. And as a Girl Scout, I learned many applicable skills. Cooking food in tin foil on campfire. Playwriting and theatrical performance with sock puppets. Learning how yarn is made and how to take said yarn and crochet it into a lopsided scarf. I also learned how to cross stitch.

For Melissa Lo's birthday, I wanted to revive this skill from the second grade. I started sketching and then translating the sketches to a pattern. It was an unattractive process even with graph paper. And then I said to myself, "you know Illustrator, why the heck aren't you just doing this on the computer, dummy?" Before long, I had laid out an owl with a Missoni a la Target sweater.

I took a trip to JoAnn's Fabric and purchased my supplies: cross stitching fabric, five colors of embroidery floss (dark blue, dark brown, ivory, gold and orange) and a 5" hoop. I found a lot of inspiration on Pinterest and was intrigued by the idea of framing the fabric in the hoop, which has a natural hook.

The Girl with the Pearl Earring, I've Loved You So Long, many episodes of Project Runway, Season 4 and Curb Your Enthusiasm were conquered and along the way, I changed the pattern. But was very satisfied with the results:

I gave Melissa Lo the cross stitch on the Tweed Ride and when I visited her apartment yesterday it was proudly displayed among the posters designed by myself and Jared A. May. I'm already plotting the pattern for my next decorative needle point, special for the Pizza Forest Estate.

oktoberfest and amery, wi

Madcap cooking adventures aside, this weekend I broke out the Polaroid Super Shooter with an aging pack of black and white film. I don't share all of my photos (I had an entire post about the Minnesota State Fair that never came to fruition because I couldn't access a scanner until everyone was sick of hearing about SPAMcurds) and this post doesn't contain a necessary reason, so I'll keep it short.

Arlie met the Kaiser at St. Paul's Oktoberfest. Arlie, Etta and I are a part of a meetup group called Dachshunds Making a Difference (whose proceeds benefit the rescue I adopted Etta from, Coast to Coast Dachshund Rescue) and this month, the gang was participated in this Oktoberfest celebration's dachshund races. As the Kaiser announced prior to the race, Oktoberfest is a 201 year old celebration of a marriage that originally held horse races. Since it's pretty difficult to obtain a license for such an event on Rice Street, they went with racing small German dogs.

As for how Arlie did in the races? We came close, which was an upset for me. Arlie was just happy to get the cheese I held for him at the finish line.

After the races, Arlie's pit crew and cheering section crossed the street to dance polka and enjoy authentic Deutsch cuisine (um, a sausage with kraut and pretzel) prepared in food trucks.

When I was not mourning the meal I created for the trip to Amery, WI, my cousin and I went to visit the home that once was our family cabin. My uncle Ross and aunt Mary sold the cabin a few years before Mary passed away in 2009, but the current owners didn't mind (a.k.a. were not home) that we explored the grounds. It seemed so unfamiliar. All the danger was missing as the deck, dock and stairs have been replaced with modern materials. How are you suppose to get a splinter to go with your horsefly bite? The house is brown instead of rust and the neighboring shack has been demolished to be an empty lot. Oh well, all's fair in love and real estate, but one thing didn't change:

Lake Wapogasset still looks like all my favorite memories from the original Parent Trap. And autumn is a such a funny season when you live in a climate doomed to six solid months of winter. It's a time where people are holding onto summer with their right hand while premeditively bringing along the winter coat in their left. But so is spring. The lake was missing the speed boats and pontoons, but docks still dabbled at the water's edge, hoping tomorrow will be another of these indian summer days. I didn't spend much of autumn in Amery, WI growing up. It was a summer tradition, but it seemed appropriate to say goodbye to the old cabin on a day like this.

One final note: thank you Phineas and William, BBDO's ever trusty receptionists, for scanning my photos.

cirque du sogay

On September 10, Melissa Lo and I participated in our very first alley cat race, Babes in Bikeland. Alongside 252 other female and transgendered cyclists, we took on a roughly 20 mile route through NE, Downtown, Uptown, South and Phillips.

We arrived at Sisters Camelot 1 hour and 53 minutes after we started at the Soap Factory. We took 51st and 52nd place. Our ever supportive boyfriends greeted us at the finish line with a "Great Jorb" sign and Powerade. We were only 20 minutes behind the first place racer, Lee Pen (who also started chemotherapy earlier that month). A girl from Seattle finished the race on a Nice Ride after being hit by a car six blocks into the race. Overall, no one left Babes in Bikeland defeated. Collectively we finished using our strength, wits and teamwork. We were proud.

But we could do better.

With Cirque Du SoGay fast approaching, Melissa and I realized our new challenges. This wasn't a race against women who were of a similar physical set, men would be participating as well. The feminist me who rode in babes in bike land should not have been afraid bit I'm realistic about the difference between my short legs and a six-foot tall man's legs. We had only an hour to prepare our route versus the two hours Babes provided us. Our start and finish point were located in the same vicinity which meant the destinations could lead us to neighborhoods (maybe even in St. Paul) that we were not familiar with.

Our Cirque du SoGay group at the launching point (Minnesota AIDS Project), photo take by a stranger with Stephanie Hengst's camera.

Melissa and I had our eyes on placing in the top 15. Not so much that we would knock down other cyclists or grab onto the sideview mirror of a car for a free ride. We're not that intense/cool. But we took on Babes as a learning experience and kept our eyes on the fifty girls ahead of us. What were they doing that we could be doing? What lessons had we learned?

Route. While one could be the fastest cyclist on the track, not knowing the quickest route from point A to B could be your demise.

In Babes, Melissa and I played it ultra-safe. We avoided busy streets and took trails where we could. In Cirque, we took riskier roads and spent less time on trails.

We also made two large mistakes in Uptown and another big one in South Minneapolis during Babes. We had the benefit in Cirque of having six people helping us plot our manifest. I was comfortable with all of the route except for the U of M portion. Luckily, Melissa and Stephanie are both former graduate students of the campus.

Our Cirque du SoGay route (including our mistakes). The 15-mile course ended up being closer to 19.83 for us. Feel free to comment suggestions on this map here or in the comment section of this blog. Help us learn more! 

Groups. Working as a duo worked very well during Babes in Bikeland.

Other than being a lone wolf, riding as a pair works the very best. If you're unsure of a route, that other person is a second pair of eyes looking for your destination. And there's a car out there, with your name invisibly written on its hood, doesn't even know it, and the trick is to make it to the finish line before that car finds you (yes, I stole this from Firefly). Your partner is your savior again (I owe my life to Melissa Lo).

Only having to look out for one other person keeps the multi-tasking limited to pedaling, the route and traffic. If you have more than that, you might find half you group caught at a red light behind you. You have to keep turning around to see if you've lost somebody.

Communication. Being vocal can save your life and your spirit.

Keep your mouth moving. Let people know your position. Let people around you know the position of cars around them. Remind your team members of your route. When you come across another group of cyclists participating in your alley cat, cheer them on. Cheer your team members on. Sing silly songs to remind everyone that this is suppose to be fun. We caught onto this while on the road during Babes and kept it going strong during Cirque.

Creativity. You're probably not going to be first, so try to win a prize for flare.

Babes in Bikeland handed out prizes for the best costume and the best answers at a stop. Cirque du SoGay was no different. We were a little worn out from making hip bags all week to construct costumes on top of it, but Melissa did receive recognition for one of her answers during a quiz in Cirque. The question was so utterly disgusting, but Melissa's answer of "air biscuit" was as appropriate as one could get without being vulgar.

Luggage. The Chrome messenger bag did not prove efficient during Babes.

We spent far too much time digging in a bag for our manifests (the list of places racers are required to stop at and have signed/stamped to prove they were there). So Melissa and I ditched our heavy packs filled with extra clothing and sunscreen and simplified. We constructed these hip bags and culled what we carried down to our manifests, maps, after party flyers, U-Locks, cell phones, keys, wallets and small tools. I also installed a water bottle holder on my bike.

We made mistakes again in Cirque, but we improved. Greatly. Jared A. May, Melissa and I finished together 13th, 11th and 12th respectively at 1 hour and 57 minutes. We made the Top 15 of the "Virgin" (or 15-mile) route. Two "Harder, Faster" (30-mile) cyclists finished before us and a third rolled in minutes after us. We were awestruck.