Ameliaaaa (like "Emiliooooo!")

I need to go bed but this is very important.

They think they found where Amelia Earhart died... and it's on a deserted island! Just like in the movies! She didn't end in a fiery ocean crash. She emergency landed on an island with her copilot, did who-knows-what (climbed trees? wrote messages in the sand? had volleyball drama?), and then died.

It's a crazy world, poopsies.

Big Decisions

Hey guys, how the heck long am I going to live in Seattle? If the answer is "lots of years", I will do the following:
-Register to vote here instead of Puyallup!
-Switch my area code to 206 instead of 253 when my phone carrier says I can do that!

Ok, that's it. But they are big deals.

Project KRAP continues

I have so much to tell you.

Project KRAP - Week Peperoncini: I learned all the important stuff about peperoncinis, namely that are best used as a delicate accessory. I enjoy them in tuna sandwiches, quesadillas, and Triscuit concoctions. I have also eaten them on pizza. That's always a thrill.

Project KRAP - Week Butternut and Spaghetti Squash: First, it was all squash. Then it was just b'nut. I finally settled on B'nut AND Spaghetti because I was so fascinated by the latter, and you know what? I don't regret it. We all know Butternut squash is da bomb diggity (even when it breaks your food processor... shoot), but the Spag.! What a treat!

Bake that thing, and then take a fork to it like there's no tomorrow. The result is spaghetti-like strands of squash that will make your senses form a boy band. It's exhilarating.

Project KRAP - Week Sweet Potato: It's just starting! My first task was to differentiate between yam and sweet potato. Done. Tomorrow, I make them into fries! Since regular potato bakeage ain't no thang, I'm going to pretend that I've done that, too. Hollaaaa sweet potato!

Ingredients to come:
-Mushroom (the cheap kind... starts with a "ch")
-Fig
-Parsnip (right now, I don't even know what a freaking parsnip is!)
-Venison, if one of my friends takes up hunting and shoots me dinner
-Other stuff you might recommend

There will be no pictures in this post.

A few weeks ago, I was hanging out in my room like the gentlewoman I am when I realized a spider was giving me the stink eye. It was huge (spider, not eye). After 45 minutes of paralysis-because-of-terror, I threw my old shoe and killed it.

Rest in peace, spider.

Then, today, I was flobbed out on my living room floor when I noticed A GIGANTIC SPIDER SPRINTING TOWARD ME. Even though I'm not feeling top notch, I sprung into the air, grabbed my black shoe, and BAM. Dead spider.

Rest in peace, other spider.

The moral of the story is this: if you want to live 45 minutes longer, don't sprint at me.

The Dream (or nightmare, if you're that type)

Scotty Too Hotty and I have been talking, and it's clear what our society is missing: tiny pet whales.

How we came to this magnificent idea isn't important. The image of Tiny Pet Whale is. Visualize this:

You mosey into a friend's house and see a gigangto tank in the living room. Something's swimming around. Fools may glance and say, "Oh, grayish fish," but observant folks like you and I would notice that the six-inch thing is squeaking and morrrrppping.

"What? I have to look closer!" you'd say.

As you approach the morrrrppper, you see it gently floosh up to the surface of the tank and then, "PHOOW!" Steam. Out of a blowhole."

That's not a fish! That's a tiny, tiny whale!"

Your mind is blown and your soul is complete.

Big-deal scientists with lots of funds, please get on this ASAP. Thank you, and I look forward to siding with you in the ethics debates.

I like my job a lot.

My students are cooler than I was at their age. The one category where I was superior to them, though, is the Silly Hat Category. I'm not sure how many of them truly appreciate silly hats.

Silly hats or no silly hats, I like my job and students, even the ones who don't shut up. Nineteen-year-olds are waaaaay better at cutting off conversation than fourteen-year-olds, though. Goofy fourteen-year-olds.

GET LIVES, FOURTEEN-YEAR-OLDS.

Continue being my students, nineteen-year-olds.

(Note: I acknowledge the cruel irony of my talkativeness. I can't shut up, either. I acknowledge it. Even in teacher school, I was having conversations while my professor was talking. It wasn't even about important stuff. Mainly, we tried to use Britney Spears song titles in every sentence, like, "Isn't this assignment toxic?" "Oh yeah, I feel like I'm a slave 4 you. I mean, slave 2 the professor's syllabus.")

Your Site Is Below Average

MyLifeIsAverage used to be awesome. Now it accepts posts about things that aren't average. Stupid. YSIBA.

Project KRAP - Week 1

I'm adultish now, and adult(ish)s should be able to cook like whoa. Both my parents are adults, and they are master chefs. My mom makes fantastic salmon, produces delicious soup from scratch, and can make any part of a cow taste fabulous. My dad can cook mac'n'cheese without even looking at the directions on the box. See? They're real adults.

I have a plan to rise to their adult-cook status, and it has a name: Project Kelly's Really Awesome Provisions, a.k.a. Project KRAP.

Here's how it works: every week, I choose to cook with an ingredient I have never used before. Then... nothing! That's it! Project KRAP is simple to accommodate my tendency to half-ass new hobbies.

So that's it. I'm going to try stuff other than ground turkey and black beans. In ten years, I should be comfortable with 520 new ingredients starting with PEPPERONCINI. I even made up my first recipe!

Here it is:
-Cut up a pepperoncini
-Put the pieces on Triscuits

So far, Project KRAP is a huge success.

Edit from later
Please suggest ingredients! Here are the qualities I'm looking for:
-Somewhat affordable to cheapcheapcheap
-Something I'm probably not comfortable cooking yet
-Awesome
-Fruits and veggies in season

"You are being shagged by a rare parrot."

KJW - fallible.

Last night, Reynolds and I got into a bitter argument about whether "w" can be a vowel.

I said, "No! 'W' is never, ever a vowel! I know I'm right. I'm an English teacher."

Now he's sending me links like this and this and this. Guys, I think I'm wrongish, and I'm afraid. And of all the letters I could be wrong about, "W"? It hurts. I'm a Walden. I live in Washington. I attended Western Washington University and the University of Washington. I love the West Wing. I love Whoopi Goldberg. Once, I watched a few minutes of Wimbledon on TV.
R.I.P. strictly-consonanty thoughts about "w." You won't really be missed, but it was hard losing you.

My evenings

Life is so great right now. I am productive at work, and when possible I finish it there so I can come home and live the relaxy life.

Here are some of my evening activities:

-Dinner with the neighbors. First, Scotty Too Hotty made meatloaf. Then, Reynolds cooked pot roast. Tuesday, Shannon and Reynolds are preparing something Adventisty. The week after, it's my turn! Oh my goodness! STH and I considered something Catholicy, but one needs more than bread and wine.

-SKDay. That's the day where Sara comes over after work and we reminisce about old times and make plans for the new times. ("New times" is not a religious reference, even if it sounds like it.) (UNLESS, Sara and I create a new religion. I will bring this up next SKDay.)

-Accidental bus adventures. I got on the right bus - yeah 128! - but it was going the wrong direction. I ended up in Southcenter. Were you about to cry for me? Don't. STH, Reynolds, and a new friend were in the area anyway. They picked me up, we went to dinner, and I ate a spicy crispy chicken sandwich.

-Starting soon: reading for old folks. Every other Tuesday, I will read to a resident at a nursing home nearby. I hope I can choose the book. If so, I will choose A Clockwork Orange, The Road, or another soothing novel. (That was a literature joke! Because I'm an English teacher!)

-Giving Abe the stink eye. I forgot what a dumb-dumb this cat is. I love him, I really do, but sometimes a girl wants to read a book and not have a cat sit on it. It would also be nice to wake up and not find cupboard doors flung open because ol' Abey Baby needed to explore the pots and pans. "Abe! Abe! You have lived with this kitchenware before! You don't need to sit with it!" is what I'd say if he knew English.

Who needs heat for this wild life? (I admit it. I need heat for this wild life. SHOW UP, GAS MAN.)

PSE: Pajamas & Soup for Eternity

Have you heard? The Gas Man is coming today! He will make it so I can turn on the heat in my house. He will make it so that I don't have to wear sweatshirts even when bundled in my blanket. Give me five, Gas Man!

Give me five when you show up, that is. The Phone Man said, "He should be there anytime between 8 AM and late evening. I'm sorry I can't give you a more specific time than that." Gloom&Doomers might think, "Laaaaame, I have to stay at home all day," but I, NonGloom&Doomer, think, "No big deeeeeeaaaaal, I can wear my pajamas all day."

Here's what I've done so far while wearing my pajamas:
-Thought, "Boy, I'm cold."
-Made tea.
-Made tea again.
-Cleaned the kitty litter box.
-Read.
-Made more tea.
-Exhausted my morning pajama activities.

Here's what I'm going to do the rest of my pajama time:
-Think about what I would paint if I could leave the house to buy art supplies.
-Make another cup of tea.
-Pee frequently because of all the tea.
-Text my boyfriend about different bird suits he could wear since he's not at work and life doesn't have a dress code.

If you are free right now, please join my pajama party. Bring a space heater or rare gem that emits heat and fun.