Not a poetry blog: two favorites

It's weird to say that I "love" my poems. I worry that it sounds egotistical, and also, honestly, I don't really think of my poems that way. There aren't many that I would say I "love," but there are at least two--a
a couple in one of my manuscripts that I honestly do love dearly. Writing them taught me a lot and reading them still does.

I sent them out for publication for quite some time to a variety of magazines and man oh man did they have it rough--repeatedly rejected, and worst, ignored. (And I started having those fun writerly thoughts like: Are they any good? How come the ones that aren't as dear to me get accepted for publication but the rare poems that I actually love aren't getting any attention? What is going on? Maybe everything I know about poetry is wrong!!! I'm going to quit writing and take up boxing!)

But the good news is that TODAY THEY HAVE A HOME! AND FRIENDS! Finally! In Super Arrow, the journal with probably the best name ever. Not a bad way to close out the year. Thank you, Super Arrow!

Winter fragments

1/ I love my husband with all my heart. Really I do. But sometimes it's nice when he's away for the weekend. There's that sweet, familiar "I miss you" feeling... plus I actually get stuff done.  My relationship with the internet's pretty much like that. It was nice to take a little break from it while visiting family at Christmas, but it sure is great to be together again.


2/ How to start the perfect Christmas: Have your husband, Santa, or anyone else besides you, make delicious Bloody Marys for the whole family.

Here's Mr. K&G's lovingly and meticulously perfected special recipe for spicy Bloodys. (It'll help you start the perfect New Years day too.)

A beverage that comes with snacks--
can't beat it!

Fill a cocktail shaker halfway with ice. Add four shots of V-8 Spicy formula. Add one shot of vodka. It doesn't matter what kind. Then add about four dashes of Tabasco sauce, about two dashes of Worcestershire sauce, a couple shakes of garlic powder, a couple shakes of celery salt, a couple grinds of black pepper, and a little lemon juice. Shake it up, strain it into a highball glass, add a celery stalk and a lemon wedge to garnish, and make your hangover go away.

If you're wondering how to end the perfect Christmas?: Go see The Fighter with a belly full of turnips and pumpkin pie--and with no one else in the theater!


3/ The day after Christmas it snowed in South Carolina. Let me repeat that: Snow in South Carolina! We don't see too much legitimate snow in the South and never this early, so it's especially magical when we do.  I remember as a kid getting so thrilled over the tiniest little 1/4 inch of icy, wet "snow" (that was probably more like sleet) and this time the feeling was no different. Except this snow was real--official, dry, fluffy, snowball fight-ready, crunch-under-your-feet snow.

My mom and I put a sweater on the dog and took him into the back yard. He was scared at first, and then realized how fun pushing a gross old tennis ball around the fresh clean snow with your nose can be. We walked around the yard, played with Simon, and delighted in the puffed-up flashes of scarlet from a handful of cardinals watching us from snow-lined pine branches. It was just us--My mom and me and the snow, our faces turned, mouths open, catching big fat snowflakes on our tongues. It was one of my very favorite moments of the year. Really, it was one of my very favorite moments ever...

Snow is for gettin' goofy. 

A secret is something you tell one person at a time.

I don't know where that's from, but I didn't make it up. Anyway, I don't have a whole lot to say lately, but I do have a secret to share with you.

I've heard it a few times every year for, like, 20 years or so. I may have loved it this whole time and not really known it. But now, as of like 3 days ago, I know.

I love Wham!'s "Last Christmas."

By the way, I am not wearing my American Apparel leotard plus knowing about the latest band before you while updating my Tumblr. In other words, this is true love, people. Not that hipster just-for-show ironic love.



Wham - Last Christmas
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Well, there it is.

Speaking of butter...

I've always liked those Tibetan Buddhists.

1/ Their favorite color is my favorite color:  Orange! 

2/ Their throats do this amazing craziness:




You probably already knew those reasons the Buddhists are cool. Here's the best one, though--

3/ They drink TEA MADE OUT OF BUTTER!

Butter tea, people. Every day. All day long. Did you know about this?!

I kind of want to try it, but the question is do I have the cajones? On one hand, if I do try it, I can be all like, "Hey people, I have real butter cajones! (And the clogged arteries to show for it!)" On the other hand, apparently I could also get hooked. According to this article, "Many non-natives find the taste of this tea a bit rank, but supposedly, once hooked, to go without it causes backaches." (So, it's like drugs...?)

The Best Butter In The World*

So, guess who likes butter?

This guy. 

That means that when I make these--

I have to be extra vigilant of a certain additional unwanted helper using his paw as a beater.


Also, when I make these--

I use this: 

It is the Best Butter In The World. 

We first started using this butter about four years ago, when Mr. K&G picked it up from the local co-op in MA. (You can also find it at Whole Foods, or other similar fancy food places that you can only afford to shop at on pay day or special occasions.) While prepping to make The Joy of Cooking's Rich Rolled Sugar Cookies, my husband unwraps a stick of butter and says, "DUDE. You. Have. To. Smell. This."

What would you say in this situation? Something like "Umm, No thanks--I've smelled butter before?" Well that's what I said. Multiple times. But he kept insisting in a way that I have never, ever heard of someone insisting someone else smell butter before.

So I gave in and smelled the butter.

And that was when I realized I had never, ever smelled butter before. Nearly 30 years with a nose, and I had never smelled butter. I knew then and there that every butter experience I'd previously had had been in black and white. A fake. A fugazi. A matrix projection. A slippery, cream-colored shadow of false truth sliding down Plato's cave wall.

And then came Kate, the little Maine farm girl churner, angel of silky, delicious saturated fat, and bringer of The Best Butter Ever into my life.

Get Kate's butter. Smell it. Bake with it. Eat it. And then be that crazy person at the party who's preaching the gospel of the Best Butter In The World.



*Technically, probably only America. I'm pretty sure the Europeans have the best butter in the actual whole world.

It's the most punderful time of the year

Huge morning!  I drove my husband to school, made a cup of coffee, entered a Paula Deen sweepstakes to win cookies and an iPad, and whipped up some puns. It's amazing what one can accomplish when there's no class to teach. (What will happen next?!)

In response to the #ScienceCarols list on Twitter, here're my contributions. Are you sitting down? Are you ready to be more be-dazzled than an acid washed jean jacket at the Gordo, Alabama Mule Day Chicken Fest? Excellent! Because...

"Ions Dreaming of a White Christmas" 

"Alkaline Is Here" 

"Silent Nitrogen"

"Little Saint Nickel"

"O Tantalum"

"All I Want for Christmas Is Joules"

"Good King Celsius" 

"Proton the Housetop" 

"Jolly Old Saint Osmosis"

"I'll Be Ohm for Christmas"

Does anyone want to record a "Christmas for Science-y Geek Types" album with me? I can play the triangle AND that wooden fish instrument from 4th grade music class.



Bonus: The Red Sox have just snatched up Carl Crawford from Tampa Bay... who will heretofore be known and loved as Carl Crawdad.

Guess who's coming...

Good news--I really think Krampus is working! I feel at least 60% more Christmassy now than before.

And this is absolutely hilarious: 

Merry Krampus, everybody!