Beachy keen

This is the first Christmas I've spent watching the sunset from the beach. Hope you guys are having a fantastic holiday season. Sending much love your way. :)

Thin Mints, but with a spoon

What is that atop my frozen vegetables? Why yes, it is Edy's Limited Edition Girl Scout Thin Mint Cookie Ice Cream! This photo is dedicated to you guys who billed this as heaven in spoonable form -- and whined when you couldn't find it anymore. You know who you are.

... It better be as good as you say.

Professor 1 – Semester 0

[Note from Kate: Paul said he was feeling all "reflect-y" (his technical term!) and wanted to talk a little about this whole being-a-professor thing. This is as much his forum as mine -- well, maybe not as much, seeing as how my name's in the title and all -- but I wanted to share with you what he had to say.]

Here I am, fresh on the heels of my first semester at The Cit.

In August 2007, I decided I wanted to become a chemistry professor. I probably could have gone into industry and been happy, but I chose to skip the post-doc and shoot for a tenure-track position at an undergraduate institution (4-year college). I chose this road largely for the increased job security and resistance to economic downturns, certainly not the money (but it’s not horrible). I had enjoyed teaching labs and interacting with students at the University of Memphis, but I wasn’t quite sure how I would take to teaching 12 contact hours of lectures and labs at a military school and wearing a S.C.U.M. uniform while teaching.

By early January, I had two job offers -- and I am extremely happy I ended up at The Citadel. The local atmosphere is definitely not as much of a culture shock as what I encountered at the Northeast job interview.

I have an undergrad research student, which is cool; my teaching load is 12 contact hours (which at an undergrad-only institution is awesome); and the state offers kickass benefits (I am totally covered, and it’s a nice feeling). On top of that, I live in a pretty cool coastal town -- which means I get to go swimming in the ocean a lot when the water is warm -- and Charleston isn't so small that Kate's left without job choices (notwithstanding the economy taking a big dump).

So what did I spend my semester doing? A lot of lecture-writing and test/quiz-writing, some grading and a couple of internal grants.

Writing lectures takes a long time – surprisingly long. Generating about 3.5 hours of lecture takes me about 8 hours to prepare and make sure it flows well, etc.

Test-writing: holy crap. I give multiple-choice exams, largely because they are super-easy to grade (Scantron forms rock), but writing a good multiple-choice exam takes a long time -- like a good 20 hours, start to finish, in formulation and proofing.

But quite possibly the hardest part of the semester was assigning final grades and deciding how the points distribution was going to look in the end.

As to The Citadel itself, the adjective used most often (and not just by me) is “interesting.” The cadets are basically 18- to 22-year-olds who wear uniforms but like to do things 18- to 22-year-olds do: avoid studying, party, Youtube and Facebook ... oh, and shine brass and shoes. I don’t blame them – all that sounds much better than “study,” until they bomb my tests then I get to be all faux outraged.

Interacting with the cadets can be pretty hilarious. They answer questions in ways I don’t expect, due largely to their required honesty. [Note from Kate: The Cit takes its honor code very, very seriously, and things students could get away with at most other schools are grounds for expulsion for honor code violations.] Or I'm out walking around in “civilian camo” (read: street clothes) after class and see a couple of students from class and they almost don’t recognize me out of uniform.

This has been an incredibly busy -- but enjoyable -- semester, and I have one more to go before my “knob” year is over. I just have to get through teaching general chemistry 2 and instrumental methods. Christmas break is going to be hectic -- writing lectures and trying to get a little "real research" done -- but just like it is with the cadets, the first year is the hardest.

Eau de Whopper (or should I say 'Eww' de Whopper?)

Have you guys seen this? Burger King has come out with a not-at-all-seductive cologne called Flame. From the official site:

The WHOPPER sandwich is America's Favorite burger. FLAME by BK captures the essence of that love and gives it to you. Behold the scent of seduction, with a hint of flame-broiled meat.

Creepiest. Cosplay. Ever.


You can only buy Flame in NYC. It was for sale online here for $3.99 a vial (about $10 including shipping), but they sold out of stock in less than a day. My favorite review from the site:

I used to work at BK when I was a lot younger. The smell left on me after an 8 hour shift was so yummy delicious that I wouldn't shower until the next day or so.

Thanks ricky's!! Now I can smell like the good ol days even after a shower!!!

Gross, gross, a thousand times gross.

Ho-ho-hollandaise

The holidays are upon us. In my family, that means ovens and stoves are on high alert. One of the eight billion reasons I'm sad I won't be going home for the holidays is that I'll miss out on Mom's stollen and Memaw's very Southern turkey and dressing.

I come from a long line of culinary wizards and was drafted for kitchen duty from the time I was old enough to hold a spoon in one hand and a bowl in the other. (I'm 3 in the picture.) I also grew up in a Southern Baptist household, so I attended more than my share of church potlucks and ate more than my share of "Little Old Lady casseroles." If you're from the South (and maybe elsewhere), you know what I'm talking about. "Little Old Lady casseroles" usually contain lots of love and TLC, matched only in quantity by the amount of butter and cream involved in the recipe.

This is not to say that I didn't learn how to cook healthy meals. Mom usually prepared a healthy dinner; we ate plenty of chicken and seasoned, steamed vegetables. And it really got crazy my first year in college. My parents went vegan for health reasons, so I learned how to substitute soy for everything -- right down to the slice of cheese-flavored tofu on a turkey-flavored soy-product sandwich. (Don't knock it till you try it.)

But all that healthy mumbo-jumbo went out the window during family gatherings -- especially during the holidays. Christmas Eve with Mom's side of the family meant ham, oyster soup, cocktail meatballs in homemade barbecue sauce (I'll tell you about that awesome recipe some other time), and cookies as far as the eye could see. Christmas morning meant a family round-table breakfast with sausage and egg casserole, the aforementioned stollen, and orange juice out of teeny-tiny glasses. Christmas day with my Dad's side of the family meant Glorious Potatoes, more ham, chicken casserole, corn and sour cream, and more cookies. When I married Paul, I found out his mom's meals are legendary, too. I've never tasted better made-from-scratch mac 'n' cheese or mashed potatoes.

The Glorious Potatoes recipe sums up everything that's great about "Little Old Lady casseroles": It's rich and cheesy and usually leaves guests begging for more -- or for the recipe. My cousin, Ashley, participated in a recipe swap and got some pouts from friends who were hoping she'd divulge the recipe. I've been asked many times, but I play dumb. Paul knows the recipe and made the casserole while I was out of town, then proudly sent this huge picture of it to me. (He didn't make the prettiest casserole, but man, it tasted good.)

I really didn't do the Suzy Homemaker thing when Paul and I married. I had a full-time job and he was a grad student. That meant we ate dinner around 9 p.m., which gave me little motivation to cook. Since we've moved, things have changed. I'm not working, which means (1.) I have more time in the kitchen, and (2.) it's less expensive to buy ingredients than it is to eat out.

Fortunately, I brought a wealth of home-cooking knowledge with me. Some of it was ingrained over the years, such as how to make a roux. Other kitchen know-how came in the form of a cookbook of family recipes Mom put together when I got married. It's my go-to guide for comfort food. Grandmother Gowen, my great-grandmother, was a sadist when it came to giving out recipes: She always left out one ingredient. I can proudly say I have her complete chicken casserole recipe. I know what made my grandfather's pie crust so flaky, and I also have a copy of the banana bread recipe he dictated to me when I was about seven. (My recipe here.)

One recipe didn't make it into the book: my Aunt Linda's secret, made-from-scratch red-velvet cake. Instead, she bestowed the recipe on me as a wedding gift. I'm the only one in the family who knows it besides her -- even her son and his family don't know. (D'oh - I hope they don't read this!)

Over the years, I've added my own secret-recipe dishes to family potlucks. I make killer chocolate-chip cookies -- just ask Mattie, who's 700 miles away but received a couple dozen via Express Mail. Paul loves my homemade spaghetti sauce, and I'm usually asked to bring my "cheese thingies" (yes, that's what we call them) to family gatherings.

I feel a teeny-tiny bit sorry for people who didn't grow up around Southern holiday cooking. Sure, those people are probably much, much healthier -- but at what cost? Mattie was going to help me make chocolate-chip cookies when he visited in August, but we abandoned the idea after he said, incredulously, "They have shortening in them? I can honestly say I've never cooked with shortening before." (And he cooks a lot.) Then there's the group of guys I went out with the other night who had never had a hushpuppy before. Are you kidding me? I could go on, but the examples make my inner cook break into non-onion-induced tears.

It's one week till Christmas and I have a lot to do. We're not going home for the holidays, but as long as I have enough bowls, spoons, casserole dishes and oven space, Christmas is going to be right here.

Papier-mâché

Mind is heavy this morning with some sad news -- news that doesn't impact me personally but affects someone I knew for many years. I won't go into any details because I want to respect this person's privacy, but suffice it to say the media hasn't let go of this one yet.

It's easy to sit here and say, "You think you know somebody, and then this ..." but we don't really know each other. We don't know what goes on behind closed doors. In Prufrock, Eliot said, "There will be time, there will be time to prepare a face to meet the faces that you meet."
That's very true.

I won't drag this out; it's painfully vague, which does not make for good blog reading. I just wanted to air my thoughts. If you can spare a little prayer/blessing to heal a family in need, I'm pretty sure the universe will route the message in the right direction.

Taxes are ... taxing

In the six years Paul and I have been married, I have always done our taxes online myself. No muss, no fuss. But I'm seriously considering going to a tax professional next spring to file my '08 taxes because it's going to be much more complicated than in previous years. Here's what we've got going on:

• Income from three employers across two states
• State income tax in S.C. but no state income tax in Tenn.
• Moving expenses (with receipts)
  
• Large donations to charitable organizations before we moved (with receipts)
• At least one 1099-Misc for my freelance editing work
• Write-off for use of home office
• Stock sale at a loss
  

The IRS estimates an individual's tax filing expenses around $48 -- but that includes both simple and complex filings, as well as the use of everything from tax software to a tax professional. In other words, it's a completely useless statistic. My $19.95 fee to use TaxACT the past six years obviously is nowhere close to the cost of using a professional tax preparer each year.

I've consulted H&R Block's tax preparation cost estimator -- it's really quite nice -- and selecting the criteria mentioned above, it estimates my cost for hiring a tax professional is $239.75. That's making me seriously consider whether to stick with the tax software. It might be a lot more effort on my part, but I have no doubt I could pull it off if needed ... and it would save me $220.

Can anyone weigh in either way about how they get their taxes prepared?

On Google Mail Goggles

I enabled Google Mail Goggles today, just for kicks. Mail Goggles is an app that helps you avoid sending late-night, less-than-appropriate e-mails. You select days and times to enable the app (mine is enabled from 11 p.m. to 6 a.m. seven days a week), and Gmail asks you a series of five math questions that you must answer correctly in 60 seconds before you're able to send an e-mail during those times. Wrong answer or too slow? Be prepared to answer five more questions.

Google also allows you to set the problem difficulty, with 1 being easy and 5 being difficult. I chose 5. Why the heck not?! :D

Got my first taste of Mail Goggles when I sent an e-mail to a friend at 3 a.m. I'd already had an Ambien in me for a couple of hours, which makes me goofy and talkative, usually e-mailing or blogging things I normally wouldn't in an uncompromised state. The Ambien made me slow, but I answered the questions with 13 seconds remaining. Here's a sampling of the Mail Goggle Level 5 questions. (Remember, you get 60 seconds.)

I pulled it off ... but just barely. How do you guys think you'd do?

Are you in the ZONE?

This sign is posted in the drive-thru lane of a Chick-Fil-A across the street from my apartment. Man, if I ever get down on myself for being super-lazy and going through the drive-thru instead of walking inside, I can just remind myself that I am totally in the zone.



The sign is actually part of a series, with the second sign asking people to turn off their cell phones in the drive-thru zone. Respect the zone!

The Cit's Christmas Tree

The semester is almost over -- only final exams stand between the cadets and Christmas break!

Paul and I went to the beautiful Candlelight Christmas Service Monday night. The cadet choir and brass ensemble did a fantastic job, and many more cadets were involved as ushers, decorators, etc. Props to the chem cadets who took part in the service. Also, huge thanks to all the people in the Cit family who have made us feel so welcome since we arrived in August. It really is a family, and I'm so glad we're a part of it.

Now quit surfing the Internet and get back to studying for finals. That's an order. ^_^

Write or Die: A writer's best friend (or worst nightmare)

Write or Die is a nifty little app that forces writers to ... write. (Wow. I used the same word three times in one sentence. Thesaurus FTW!) You set a time goal and a word count, and then you better hop to it because the alternative is kind of crappy.

From the site:

Negative Reinforcement "strengthens a behavior because a negative condition is stopped or avoided as a consequence of the behavior."

Consequences:

• Gentle Mode: A certain amount of time after you stop writing, a box will pop up, gently reminding you to continue writing.
• Normal Mode: If you persistently avoid writing, you will be played a most unpleasant sound. The sound will stop if and only if you continue to write.
• Kamikaze Mode: Keep Writing or Your Work Will Unwrite Itself

These consequences will persist until your preset conditions have been met (that is, your time is up or you've written you wordcount goal or both)

Keep writing or your work will unwrite itself? Wish I'd had that as an excuse for a couple of my college term papers. "You gotta understand -- it just kept unwriting itself!"

Finally, a post-Thanksgiving post

I apologize for not blogging since Thanksgiving. But I tweeted a lot. Does that count?

The drive home was blessedly short; I think we cut it to about 11.5 hours (and that's only because Paul drives a wee bit faster than me). We played the same game I've played since I was two or three: looking for letters of the alphabet on signs and billboards. The first half of the alphabet always flies by, but it usually takes at least an hour to find a Q and a couple more to find an X. We made it through the alphabet one and a half times on our way to Memphis and two times on the way home. (Big props to Zaxby's for twice giving me a much-needed Z.) I have never, ever taken a road trip on which I haven't played that game. I made it through the alphabet several times over on each of my two road trips from Memphis to Toronto and back.

Paul and I also passed the time with a lot of new stuff on our iPods, including some 330 songs by The Who and plenty of Coast to Coast.

As I mentioned in my last post, much of my house was deconstructed by the time we arrived in Memphis, but I salvaged a few things we left behind when we moved (the bottom of my cake carrier, cosmetics, a dozen towels, two spoons and a butter knife ...). I also came home with many Thanksgiving leftovers that remind me my cooking will never be as tasty or comforting or blessedly Southern as the dishes produced by Mom, my grandmother and my aunts. Maybe someday.

The sucky thing about coming back to Charleston has been facing facts: Paul and I aren't having much of a Christmas this year. I wasn't expecting to be out of work so long. We're not going to Memphis to see our family and friends (for several reasons, including cost and schedule). We're not buying many gifts, though I am sending out more holiday cards than usual. We don't have space (or money) for a tree or lights or wreaths or what-have-you. Heck, we can't even gather around a warm fire or hang stockings from the mantel because our loveseat blocks the fireplace. None of the furniture moves in our apartment because there's nowhere for it to go. So I'm not expecting Christmas miracles this year.

None of that bothers me as much as knowing there are three people who mean a lot to me that I feel powerless to help this season. It's tearing me up. :(

In lieu of real shopping, I'm dreaming big with some virtual window-shopping. I resurrected my MetaWishlist from 2005. Funny thing: I'm at a point where there aren't many material things I need (hey, I've got shelter, friends, family, kitties, etc.) -- and I've had trouble even coming up with a list of practical things I want. So I'm throwing all that practical nonsense to the wind. My list includes everything from the inane (bacon-flavored dental floss) to geeky (Fruits Basket) to wishful thinking (a three-carat diamond ring from my friend Johnny's new store. But, hey, if you've got $100,000 you want to spend on me, I won't complain.