Goals for the Year

So last week, I turned 29. As I mentioned last year, I don't really dig resolutions of the Jan 1st variety--I prefer to let the goals come when it feels right. And right now, it feels right. But first, a recap/update on my goals from last year.

On the whole, this was a bad year, goal-wise. I didn't think that it was possible, but my life seems to have kicked into a new, higher gear this past year. This forced me to re-prioritize a bit, and one needs only look at the state of my kitchen, blog, and waistline to see the effects. But I'm giving away the ending...

First, the shameful:
run/swim/bike a triathlon: This goal did NOT happen. Moreover, it's not going to happen anytime soon. And I'm ok with that. It turns out that I'm just not that interested in triathlons. I like the idea of it. But the reality is totally unappealing--any sport that requires you to practice putting on your shoes is not for me. Besides, if I wanted to work really hard at something I'm naturally bad at, I would learn a new language. Or teach myself to juggle.

bike a century: This also did not happen. Not even close. I did accomplish one of the subgoals of this goal--I fixed my bike's drive train. Good news is, I've already been on my bike several times this spring--which is several times more than I was on my bike last year! Bad news is, my bike partner-in-crime is graduating and moving on to bigger and better things (ok--maybe that's not really bad news--congrats, Ann!), and without a riding partner to spur me on, I doubt I'll be able to motivate myself for a really long distance ride.

climb a 5.10: Again, not so much. Turns out that writing a dissertation is somewhat incompatible with finding time to exercise. But I'm thinking about taking a climbing technique class this summer, so who knows?

show my photos in a gallery in Ann Arbor: I'm terrible at this stuff--self-promotion is really hard for me, and getting a gallery show is all about self-promotion. I made some lame stabs this last year, but nothing substantial. I'm hoping to enter The Shadow Art Fair this year, which would kind of count.


Now the slightly less shameful:

take care of my back: I did ok with this. I didn't make my (perhaps overly optomistic) goal of daily core exercise, but I have had markedly fewer relapses this year, and I've learned much better how to keep myself in alignment.

go on the job market: Um. I went on the job market...I just didn't get a job. That counts, right? Seriously though, my job market process this year went through more pointless twists and turns than a Season 2 episode of Heros. Some of those twists were my fault, others were out of my control. On the plus side, going on the market halfway last year has set me up perfectly for my full on attack this year. I'm calling it Job Market II: Kate's Revenge.

And now, lest you think I'm a total slob, the successes!

take all of my (important) pills: I have been really good this year. I still have an occasional lapse, but nothing to get in a twist about. And I feel good.

finish a second paper: Holy crap! I actually finished this one! And it's good too!

get married: Score!


Also, here's a list of things I didn't list as goals last year, but accomplished anyway:
Set a personal record for distance hiked in one day (~20 miles)
Went to a new country (the Czech Republic)
Adopted a little fuzzy asshole
Planted a successful community garden plot
Presented at a prestigious conference
Taught a short course
Gave an invited talk
Was paid to take photographs
Won a photography contest
Came within a whisker of getting my dream job


When you put it that way, it wasn't such a bad year. However, the disconnect between what I actually accomplished and what my goals were has made me rethink what makes a useful goal. This year, I'm going with broader goals, which have many possible pathes to fufillment. We'll see how that works out.

Get a job or move on: This is the big one this year. I've decided that this is my last year in graduate school. I will get a job that I want in my field, or I will move on and do something else.

Submit one paper for publication: Pretty self-explanatory. The publication process in economics takes forever. I need all the time I can get.

Drafts of two other papers: The two candidate papers at the moment are both coauthored (yay!). One is with my advisor. The other is with my officemate. I'm looking for real paper drafts--not just results!

Prioritize Exercise: One of the things I let slide most this past year was exercise. In the past 2 years, I've gone from Amazon to lump. I've gained a size, my knees hurt, and I have no energy. This is totally unacceptable! I have several strategies for this. I'm planning to take at least one exercise class at the University per semester. I'm back on my bike, and I'm hoping to start riding regularly, even if it's only short distances. I've also started weightlifting again. I need to figure out some way to keep that interesting and learn more. Any other (low/no cost) ideas?

Eliminate anything I don't use from my house: We have way too much stuff. Garage sale this summer, followed by a trip to the recycle center!

Spend less free time staring at a computer screen: Part of the reason I don't have time for things I love is that I spend my down time surfing the web or watching TV. I've already made progress towards doing more away from the computer. I want to do more!

Acheive more balance in my life: This is related to everything else above. If I spend too much time working or thinking about work, then my brain stops working well. And if I spend less time staring at a computer/TV screen, then I should have more time for those things that exercise the non-research parts of my brain--photography, art, music, gardening.

Eat more cake: I figured I needed at least one that I'd be able to acheive.

Adventures in Cooking Part 3: Mayonnaise

Remember way back when I wrote that post about mayonnaise and frosting? Well, spurred on by the 2 dozen hard boiled eggs in my fridge, I finally got up the courage to make mayonnaise, using Alton Brown's recipe. Oh boy is it good.



It is much tarter than store bought mayonnaise, and has more mustard flavor to it. It probably isn't for everyone. But if you/ like a bit more tang in your egg salad, then go for it. It's easier than I would have thought.

A few words of advice:
1) Use your food processor. I don't know about you, but I'm not coordinated enough to whisk with one hand and deposit a carefully-controlled stream of vegetable oil with the other. Nor am I strong enough to whisk that vigorously without stopping to massage my forearms every 15 seconds.
2) Use some kind of pouring device for the oil. Alton Brown uses a very snazzy squeeze bottle. I used a water pitcher. Whatever. You need to add it veeery sloooowly, and I can't be trusted to do that out of a bowl. See above comment about coordination issues.
3) Several other things you might not know (mostly gleaned from watching Alton Brown): fresh eggs make better mayo, mustard powder is in mayonnaise for important structural reasons, and if you use unpasteurized eggs, you should leave you mayo out on the counter, in the jar, for 4-6 hours.

I don't know if I'll last that long. Egg salad, here I come!

Hi all--I'm resurfacing. The last few months have been simultaneously really busy/stressful and really boring. There have been things worth blogging about, but my inner perfectionist won't let me write a half-assed post out of the blue, without "catching up" on all of the other posts I was "supposed" to do. I have at least 5 half-finished elaborate, pictured-filled blog posts in the queue, which I can't seem to find the energy to finish. But why should every post be long and involoved? Wasn't this supposed to be an exercise in informal writing? As in...not stressful?

So here is me, announcing that I'm coming back. I'll post some picture-filled entries when I have the time, but I'm going to start posting short thoughts as well. I figure the combination of the two might be interesting, and...well...more compatible with dissertation writing. I suppose there's always Write or Die.

Happy New Year!

Hi all--it's been a crazy holiday season--hence the lack of posting. I have a number of picture-heavy posts in the works, but those take me about 3 times as long as text-based posts, so I figured I'd write a couple of those in the meantime. I may get around to adding pictures. We'll see.

We had a busy holiday season around here. We had to work basically up to the last minute, so we didn't leave for Chicago (casa del Kate) until Dec 21st. We left for Southern Oregon on the 26th. On Jan 1st, we drove down to San Fransisco, where I had professional obligations in San Fransisco starting Jan 2nd. On Jan 5th, we flew back to Chicago and then immediately drove back to Ann Arbor.

Whew.

Despite the frantic pace, the whole thing was lovely.

Well...actually, scratch that. Once we got to Chicago, it was lovely. The trip from Ann Arbor to Chicago, which normally takes 3-1/2 to 4 hours, took 27 hours total--10 of which were on the road. There was snow and high winds through most of the state, but it wasn't too bad (good road conditions and ok visibility--60 feet or so) until we hit mile marker 55 in Michigan, at which point traffic stopped. We stopped at around 4 pm didn't move an inch for nearly 3 hours. We found out later that the accident ahead of us contained 6 jackknifed semis and at least a dozen cars. Given what we saw on our way through the site, I would be surprised if that figure included all crashes related to that initial accident.

It was 3 degrees outside, and the wind was strong enough to make leaving the car an unpleasant proposition--unfortunate, since I really really had to pee. However, all things considered, it wasn't so bad. We turned off our lights, ran the engine just enough to keep it and the car warm, and listened to NPR podcasts. I eventually admitted to myself that I didn't have the aim to pee in a bottle, and briefly left the car to take care of things. Good news is, I would be surprised if anyone could see my blazing white butt through the blowing snow. Bad news is, I froze my ass off (really--being a woman sucks). We had Roxy in the car (we left Maggie with a friend, but figured that Roxy could use a little adversity in her life), and let her out to wander around the car a bit. We hoped that she'd taken car of her kitty business before we left.

At some point, traffic started moving--we would inch forward 15 feet and then stop for 10-15 minutes. After a few rounds of stop-and-start, we realized that unless we wanted our windshield wipers encased in ice, we would have to run them constantly. Over the next 2 hours, the swish-swish would slowly drive me crazy.

The good thing about our piecemeal mode of travel was that it gave us plenty of time to gawk. First, we started to see cars off the road--presumably people uninvolved in the first accident who simply failed to stop in time. Then we started into the accident zone proper--all flashing lights and guys in uniform looking way cold. One of them cleared off our wiper for us, saving us a 10th trip out in the cold. They were dragging stranded cars across the median, presumably because the other side was more easily accessible. There was a semi tractor with the front smashed in, and several facing the wrong direction. Eventually, we made it to the next exit, where we were routed off the road into small towns. I was following a semi tractor for a while, but he made an ill-advised decision to pass a stranded semi who couldn't make it up a hill. He drifted away, and suddenly I was at the front of a massive, slow-motion parade. I didn't see the trailer again.

By the time we got back on the highway, visibility had fallen to about 20 feet. 4 hours of zero traffic left the roadway encased in snow. We found ourselves at the center of a sphere of snow. 20 feet from the car, the world may as well not have existed. It was impossible to tell where the road ended and the ditch began, so our parade took a firm position at the center of the roadway. A sedan in back of me (who had apparently missed our 3 hour long lesson in why- not- to- drive- like- a- jackass- in- a- blizzard) decided that this was a good time to pass. I saw him come up on my right, and then he slowly drifted off the side of the road. He left my personal bubble of world, and we didn't see him again. Nobody attempted to pass after that.

We spent an amusing interlude at East Bumblefuck Michigan (motto: don't stop here) and decided that we would have to try to make it the 13 miles to Benton Harbor. Although it seemed impossible, the road was even worse when we got back on. We could see as much as 20 feet in front of us, but when the wind shifted, all I could see was windshield, and I would have to stop on the roadway until it cleared. I've never driven in worse conditions. Long story not-so-short, we made it to Benton Harbor, checked into a hotel (best $80 I have ever spent), threw our totally freaked-out cat in the bathroom, and slept like the dead. The next day, it was still snowing, but not as badly. Since it was only 25 miles to get into Indiana, where the snow would probably stop (lake effect), we decided to go for it. It took us another 2 hours to get to my folk's house--a distance of probably 60 miles.

Once we got there, though, we had a lovely time. In addition to our traditional Christmas Eve gift of matching pajamas, the cats and dogs got matching bandanas. Suprisingly, Roxy didn't seem to mind hers and kept it on for the whole time we were there. On the whole, Roxy had a fantastic time at my folks' house. She seemed to enjoy having other animals around--even if she wasn't too fond of the dog at first. We made christmas cookies, wrapped presents, decorated the tree, and prepped the country ham we bought my mom for Christmas. We had an ice storm, and I took some pictures of my mom's winter garden (maybe I'll get to post some later). On a lark, we went to Cabella's, which is like Disneyland for hunters and included a mountain of stuffed game, an animatronic deer exhibit, a fish tank full of enormous fish, a wild-game cafeteria, a gun musem, and an entire section of disgusting bait items (I love looking at disgusting bait items). On our last day, we went to the Brookfield zoo. I love going to the zoo in the winter, and it's long tradition in our family. We saw gibbons singing to each other, a pygmy hippo, and some gorillas playing in the straw. We saw an orangutan going crazy over a giant orange-flavored popsicle. We saw an *enourmous* alligator (>15 feet long), and an owl with a lazy eye. We saw the keepers feeding the tapirs and hippos hamburger buns (hippo can haz cheezburger?) and indulging the elephants with big squirts of water. The best was the polar bear, who was playing with a small red ball. Early on it fell into the moat. He eventually decided to brave the icy steps to get it, but ended up falling into the moat. At that point, we looked in the mirror set up for moat-viewing and realized that all of the bear toys are in the moat. Reminds me of a certain cat I know, who likes to knock her toys down the stairs into the basement.

We seem to have used up all our bad luck on the trip to Chicago, because the trip from O'hare to Portland to Medford, which should have been fraught with trouble the entire way, was ridiculously easy. We headed out to the Oregon Coast to meet up with Caitrin (Ross's sister) the next day. The coast was lovely. We saw lighthouses, wind-bent trees, and crashing waves. We went to a wonderful aquarium with plexiglass tubes that let you walk underwater, and a petting zoo where you could touch anemones, sea cucumbers, sharks, and rays. We went to a garden with a fantastic light show, and a whale-watching center. The whale watching center has a real whale skeleton set up in the building. I also learned that little bits of junk in the ocean sometimes accumulate bits of plant matter in their travels, forming something that looks like a miniature tumbleweed. Later on, I looked for these balls on the beach, but didn't find any. We did find some jellyfish, though, and some blobs of clear stuff that felt a bit like rubber. Ross and I argued about the source of these--I thought they were organic (maybe dried out jellyfish, or whale barf or something), while Ross figured they were man made material (maybe packing material, or a component of a ship). I found a kid's toy--a plastic grenade--which looked pretty old, from the 70s maybe. We found some neat seashells, including one with a gradient from silver to purple, and another that was raspy and brown. We got a great lesson in the power of the pacific, when an extra-large wave caught me by surprise, and forced me to run up the beach to avoid getting wet. Ross's dad, who was taking pictures of me while I scrambled to safety, ended up getting caught too, and executed a neat little roll to get out of the way. The dunes themselves were the best part--covered in a spiky grass, making them look almost furry.

The trip down to San Fransisco was also uneventful. We stayed with Ross's aunt and uncle in Alameda. I had some professional obligations, but we also had some time to just wander around. We hiked up a big hill (though not by any stretch the biggest) and went to a toy store past Chinatown. We walked through a really sketchy neighborhood to a beer store that turned out to be closed. The brewery that we settled for was called the Thirsty Bear, and turned out to have some decent beers. That evening, we got to see some good friends who moved to Oakland a few years ago. We had fantastic sausages, made by a guy who was of Turkish decent, born in Germany, and grew up in Canada. Man knows his sausages! He was really nice, and let us come behind the counter to top our own sausages. He let us eat there while he closed up shop, and even gave us some of all of his french fry dips to try. The next day, Ross's uncle drove us around to see some different neighborhoods in the city. We went to yet another great sausage place, with the best business model ever. The sausage place is next door to a great bar. You can get your sausage for here, to go, or "for next door". We, of course, carried our sausage (wild boar for Ross, duck with figs for me) next door to have a beer. We were shocked to find that we didn't recognize a single beer on the menu! Awesome! We also subjected Ross's uncle to two different toy shops. But the second one was well worth it. We bought three original prints and spent only $48. Totally awesome.

Anyway, this was a long post, but it was a great trip. We were gone for much too long, but we enjoyed ourselves. How was your holiday season?

We hope for better things--like bargins on designer handbags!

Has anyone noticed the recent spate of recession-themed articles in the "lifestyle" sections of the New York Times? I can't stop reading them--they're so adorably out of touch!

A story from the Home and Garden section covers (in great detail) the impact of rich New Yorkers firing their domestic help. On the global economy, that is. One employer expressed concern about her housekeeper's financial obligations, and said that she felt guilty for firing her: "It was really hard."

An article entitled "The Great Sale of ’08," simply gushes over the bargains that local department stores are putting up to entice shoppers. And who could resist such deals--$275 for a pair of Prada shoes! (My heart goes pitta pat!)

And then there are those poor people who can't shop the way they'd like, because they feel like it might be in bad taste. Good thing they've found a way to get around that problem--designer parties!


But my favorite are the "belt tightening" stories. The titles say it all.

Great Meals for Two, Under $100 (It’s Possible!)

Time to Tighten Things Up: Energy Saving Tips for Your Second Home


This is obviously hilarious, but also a little bizarre. The front section of the New York Times is full of news about the recession. Over half a million people lost their jobs in November--the largest job loss since 1974--and though it doesn't seem possible, the actual impact is probably much greater. Meanwhile, the "lifestyle" sections are whinging about the price of bluefin tuna and airline tickets.

(It's especially weird when veiwed from the perspective of suburban Detroit. Detroit used to rank 4th in population, but now hovers around 11th, having lost half of it's population since 1950. It is a city so utterly destroyed, that large parts of it are returning to the prairie* and the half mile area between the Detroit Institute of Art and downtown is known as a "Dead Zone". I mean, Detroit's city motto is "Speramus Meliora; Resurget Cineribus," which is Latin for (I shit you not) "We Hope For Better Things; It Shall Rise From the Ashes.")

On a more personal level, it would be nice to read a "lifestyle" column and find some advice that I could actually use this year. Maybe an article about handmade Christmas gifts? Or kitchen gardens? Or the reuse/renew movement? Or...something?





*If you like the blog entry I linked to, you should click here to see more of Sweet Juniper's lovely photos of Detroit. He's one of my favorite photographers.

The Creeping Terror Part 1--Pumpkin Pie

My good friend paisana posted a request for holiday recipes. So here's my pumpkin pie.

Warning: if you usually double the spices in baking, DON'T DO IT HERE. I already doubled the spices, and I can't be held responsible.

Ginger Pumpkin Pie

(makes one 9" pie)

Ingredients:

• 3 small pie pumpkins
  
• 1-1/4 c brown sugar
  
• 3 eggs
  
• 1/2 pint cream (or half and half if you're a pansy)
  
• 1 tsp salt
  
• 3 tsp cinnamon
  
• 2 tsp ground ginger (or fresh, if you roll that way...our local meijer didn't have it the last time I tried)
  
• 1 tsp ground cloves
  
• 1 tsp grated nutmeg
  
• pinch of black or cayenne pepper
  
• 2 tsp vanilla
  
• candied ginger
  

Directions:

• Cut the pie pumpkins in half, and place face down on a baking sheet covered in foil. Bake in a 400 degree oven until a knife slides in easily
• Mash the pumpkin using a potato masher, and measure out 3 cups of the mixture. Save the rest for pumpkin bread/muffins/cupcakes.
  
• Combine all of the ingredients except for the candied ginger
  
• Lay a pie crust in a 9" pie pan (I won't give you a crust recipe. I find that most people either have a recipe of their own, or wouldn't dream of making a pie crust)
  
• Slice the candied ginger and cover the bottom of the pan with ginger (don't skimp!)
• Pour the pie filling on top of the ginger
• Bake at 425 for 20 minutes, then lower the heat to 275 and bake until the center is firm

Remember--pumpkin is a vegetable, so it is perfectly acceptable to eat leftover pumpkin pie for breakfast. Mmmmm...

PS: the title of this blog post is thanks to my roommate, Matt. If you don't understand it, bother him.

Stories from the polls...

One of the best parts of this election has been how engaged people are in the voting process. I spent most of Nov 4th reading people's stories about voting. And so I decided to ask a group of alums from my college alma mater about their voting experiences...

A poll (in four acts):
1) When did you vote?
2) Where is your polling place?
3) How long did it take?
4) What type of ballot/machine did you use?

And a bonus question: what does your polling place look like?

My answers:
1) 8:30 am
2) down the street (Ann Arbor, MI)
3) 1 hour
4) Scantron baby

Bonus question: The picture at the top of this post is my polling place. Here's another picture


I call it the voting hut. It's built out of cinder blocks and is probably 400 square feet. It's nowhere near as tall as it looks in the picture. The top is all ivy. That thing in the front might be a tree--it's kind of hard to tell. I've always kind of hated the voting hut. It's tiny--barely big enough for two tables and 5 little privacy screens. And it's unheated, meaning that on a typical day in November, it can be a wee bit chilly. But this Nov 4th, I found out that the voting hut is actually kind of unique. According to a random woman walking by as I took these pictures, it is the only single-purpose polling place in the state. Until a few years ago, it was used only one day a year. In 2005, the city council decided to open it up to a wounded bird sanctuary the rest of the year...on the condition that they clean it up for November. So there you go.



87 people answered my poll. About 40% voted before Nov 4th. The rest voted primarily in the morning. The earliest respondent arrived around 5:45 am. I read a lot about long lines in the news, but most people who responded didn't face a wait at the polls--31 people (~35%) waited less than 10 minutes and 64 people (~75%) waited less than an hour. That said, there were a few people who waited 2 hours or more.

Ballot type:
40% scantron bubbles
12% scantron arrows (I didn't know this existed!)
14% electronic touchscreen
5% electronic wheelie thing
23% absentee/vote-by-mail

There were also a few odd voting methods. 4 people faced an old-style manual machine with a big fat lever. 3 people seem to have old paper-in-the-box style ballots. I was surprised at how few electronic machines there were. Ross tells me that many precincts are getting rid of their electronic voting machines. Makes sense--scantron is a tested technology.

What struck me about the responses to the poll was the diversity of people's polling places. Here are a few of the descriptions people wrote...

From Washington DC:
[I voted at] 8AM. Polls opened at 7AM and I got in line at 20 'till 7. The line was already 2 blocks long. The line picked up after an older woman who has been the A through C lady for over 10 years was removed from her post. Sad. [My polling place is a] huge old brick elementary school gymnasium/auditorium. Not many older people. Curiously, I also didn't see any Hispanic voters. My neighborhood is estimated to be about 1/3 Hispanic, 1/3 white, 1/3 African American.

Also in DC:
It's the gym of an elementary school, so lots of posters about good sportsmanship and rules for gym class. Plus! Mats! And basketball hoops!

And nearby, in Arlington VA:
Our voting center is a former school that's been turned into a community center. They still have some after school type programs so lots of inspirational posters in the lobby and what was probably a lunch room where we actually voted.

One person voted in a neighbor's garage:
i thought voting in a garage would be a little weird, but it was actually nice. the poll workers were very friendly and we had plenty of privacy for filling out our ballots. and they gave us chocolate!

Another voted in a local tavern
What does your polling place look like? Like an old lady's house (velvet fleur-de-lis patterned wallpaper, chandeliers, fake white brick paneling)

Another voted at an old-folks home:
[it looked] like an equal-opportunity-housing-for-old-people apartment lobby. with a nice stale smokey smell. a bit cramped. (and yes, I was a bit disturbed by how easy it would've been for me to glance over at the handicapped guy's ballot while waiting in line to receive my own.

In Cincinnati:
I think they hold choir practice in the room we were using-- there were hymns on the chalkboard.

In Brooklyn:
Typical elementary school gymnasium. Extra cute because they were doing a PTA bake sale and a book sale in the lobby and I got to see the kids' artwork in the hallway (they did a project with illuminated letters).

In Kansas City:
The foyer of a squat red brick church. The voting only used the foyer, which left it pretty crowded. If they'd included a class room or other larger room, it could have been much more efficient.

A little difficulty:
Elementary school gym--Ryan wished they had basketballs for people who were waiting in line to play with. They had Chinese, French, and Korean translators, and I think they must have also had Arabic and Spanish, but I didn't see signs for those. We did have sort of a sad experience, which was that they were asking some people (including me) for IDs along with their voting cards (I think it was because a lot of the poll workers didn't speak perfect English and didn't understand when people said their names, but it wasn't cool). Does anyone have ideas about how to report it--there was one guy making trouble over it, which is probably good, although he was being really abrasive about it, which I don't think helped anything.

Not-so-secret ballot:
It's a rentable community center conference room, so nothing fancy - white walls, bluish carpet. Lots of instructional voting posters. Interestingly, none of the touch-screens were particularly hidden from view, so any interested party could see how you voted pretty easily.

From a Chicagoan who waited 2-1/2 hours(!) to vote:
Welles Park looks like an old community gymnasium, and it smells like my elementary school in winter. Not pleasant, but since half the wait was outside and it was a beautiful day, it wasn't too bad.

Elsewhere in Chicago:
Lower level of a church, kinda small, bad/old paint jobs, but nice people, and not a lot of people generally. There was a lady next to me swearing to herself about all the other choices she felt she had to make. I also caught a glimpse of the old Hispanic man next to me and his ballot--for all of the questions regarding whether or not to retain a particular circuit court judge, he marked both "yes" and "no" for every judge. Democratic obligations tell me I should've done something similar, instead of just seeing what the Sun-Times thought I should do.


In Massachusetts:
What does your polling place look like? It's a fire house. Today the fire engine was pulled out so the entire inside garage-area was free. They changed the entrance from the primary so today you had to swing around to the side.
In Chestertown:
It is a pretty dull 1960s brick box fire station.
We voted in the convention hall side (rather than the truck garage side) whose main function is betrayed by the big bingo light board on one wall.

In small-town California:
Scan-able paper ballot in a booth that looked like it was constructed by the high school shop students, with a curtain made from a black trash bag. (yay for small towns!)

In Lewisburg, PA
Blue metal building with one largish room (that smelled like too many sweaty people had been huddled in it) with about 5 offices off of it.

The advantage of absentee voting in St Petersburg:
It was a bar called "The Other Side," that seems to be aimed at foreigners. They had Philly Cheese Steaks (is that right? I've been out of the country too long?!), Grilled Cheeses, and Falafel on the menu, and Newcastle on tap for like 10 bucks. American men sat at the bar with their pretty Russian dates. The consular representative ate something with salsa (rarity in Russia). The bar was filled with mostly Americans, with passports, excitedly filling out their absentee ballots.

And absentee from Irkutsk:
My polling place is quite messy at the moment. It's a small room, full of bed, dresser, desk, chair, bookcase, printer, computer, fax machine, much of which has stuff spread out all over it.

And Paris:
An envelope marked "PAR AVION."

In my dear Iowa:
What does your polling place look like? It's an old house that probably was there before the city built a park around it. The city rents it out for community events. To vote you must walk through the kitchen, get your ballot in the dining room, then vote in the living room, and exit through the kitchen door, making a counter-clockwise circuit through the house.

And Iowa City:
Tears in the eyes of our students this morning when our principal said that today was a historic day and that by tomorrow we would either have our first black president or our first female vice-president. I teared up, and two six grade boys, both black american, swallowed down tears (as boys this age do), one mumbling to himself "it's gonna happen!" I sure hope it does, for me and for you, but really for them.

And Cedar Rapids, IA:
A mini multi-purpose room in a wandering, one-level, 1960's brick jobber.

Issues at a Texas polling place:
The polling place was a small, black baptist church. The line when H. voted at 7:15 was apparently ridiculously long, with the small parking lot in gridlock and people with flyers moving in and out of the line (well inside the minimum distance line). When I got there an hour later I walked right in the door (H. had to deal with the medical center crowd on their way in to work). There was a stray brochure for some Democratic candidates on the sign-in table (WTF? How hard is it to follow some common sense rules?), but I think it had been left by an absent-minded voter rather than set up as an advertisement. There were a bunch of 50- and 60-something ladies trying to help people who probably understood the process better than they did, but it was in a cute old lady sort of way. The voting machines themselves were practically stacked on top of each other with essentially no privacy, and I had a guy next to me helping his dad vote ("OK, now push the button for straight party Democrat . . . no, Democrat, Dad . . . "), but it was no biggie. I suspect that if anybody had audited the polling place they would have had some issues, but given that this is an overwhelmingly Democratic precinct in an overwhelmingly Republican state, I doubt anybody would bother to make a fuss. All in all a pretty smooth experience.

Makes you wonder:
Inside kind of looks like a really small gymnasium with awful fluorescent lighting. It's basically a big room with gray walls and a white-tiled floor. But one of the people working the polls apparently recognized me and said, "HEY! Where do you work? I see you Inside kind of looks like a really small gymnasium with awful fluorescent lighting. It's basically a big room with gray walls and a white-tiled floor. But one of the people working the polls apparently recognized me and said, "HEY! Where do you work? I see you walking to work EVERY MORNING! Your outfits are always so INTERESTING!"

Another Chicagoan:
[My polling place is] the adidam spiritual center... a mysterious temple whose religious practices are completely unknown to me

And another, who voted at the Daley Center:
It was a small room with lots of hallways and twenty or so machines in every available hallway. No natural light, no windows. It was also about 80 degrees.

And yet another:
The inside kind of looks like a preschool. Painted cinderblocks and bulletin boards with pictures of the Special Olympics and, when I was there, little kids carving pumpkins.

Short responses:
Like a boring office building. Like a place you might expect a potluck.
It's one of those church basement multi-purpose rooms, so there were lots of folding chairs, tables, and boring tiles.


Voting in Oregon is by mail: My living room/the mailbox, as Oregon is all vote by mail. However, I actually cast my ballot at the county election office, because I got beet juice on the first ballot and had to trade it in for a clean one.

From Santa Monica:
Brick church with a big steeple, voting area inside the front lobby. Color-coded folding tables for check in, high tables with little plastic privacy thingies for voting.

And Arden, West Virginia Community room of teeny tiny church on the edge of an apple orchard.

And Minneapolis, Minnesota:
It is on the ground floor of some high rise apartments ... nothing too exciting except all of the great neighbohood people that were there.

A church gymnasium:
It was fantastic. The gymnasium was full of bingo stuff and lots of tables all smooshed together. Everyone was waiting in the cold, and excited, and my brother in law (30 years old) voted for the first time in his life. He said never thought he'd vote, but he was really excited about this election.

A county courthouse:
My polling place was a small room, maybe six by ten, with a partitioned table in the middle that made sort of mini-cubicles. I was one of four or five people in the room; two were an elderly couple, of which the woman kept asking in a querulous voice whether Proposition 1 was "that one about the homo-sexuals". (It was.)

An elementary school gym:
Tn an elementary school right around the corner from my building, standing in a sweet cardboard privacy booth with American flags all over it, which was awesome. It ruled to vote in an elementary school gym, although I was sorry to see they still had the damned climbing ropes hanging from the ceiling. Those things were murder. There was a woman in front of me who started to sob as the machine took her ballot. A man-- a stranger to her, I think-- put his arms around her and said "It's a big day. It's a big day."

From an expat in Lesotho:
My office is very bland and full of wonderful printouts about how Jesus is the strongest man ever and how every woman would be lucky to have him for a man. I don't know who put them up or if they are still around. Since I am there about once a week I don't take them down. Otherwise I have a desk with a computer and a big cabinet full of junk that I don't mess with either.

And finally, some drama from elsewhere in Ann Arbor, MI. Just in case you doubted the drama that tends to swirl whenever the undergrads are around.
My polling place was full of college students. Apparently, two of them weren't on the registered voter rolls despite registering, and a large fight had broken out between election judges. They were shouting at each other over the students heads. One bystander was on a cell phone reporting all of the action to an election monitoring hotline. The two unregistered-registered students looked trapped, helpless, and despondent.