2013 in your face

Guess what I'm going to do in 2013.  No guesses?  You're so silent.

I'm going to blog.

Living in the 'burbs

Second, Shoreline boasts Shoreview Park.  So! Many! Shores! Around here!  To be honest, I never saw the view of the shore, but I did see a few mini-waterfalls and a hidden lake aptly named Hidden Lake.  Plus, tennis courts.  Get under my feet on a warmer day, tennis courts.  I'll spend many a spring day fluffing around this place, and perhaps we are more patient next time, we'll see the shockingly boring Kingfisher actually do a little fishing.

We moved to Shoreline, a suburb of Seattle, for these reasons:
1. We could afford a solid house here.
2. We could afford a yard here.
3. It's a delightful little place.

Number three was confirmed during Drew and Kelly Have the Day Off and Drive Around and Discover Many Awesome Parks Day.  Others call it "Sunday, March 4th" or "Today".

First, we accidentally moseyed into the Richmond Beach Saltwater Park.  I want you to imagine a perfect Northwest beach: salty driftwood, miscellaneous waterfowl, dogs.  There you have it.  Of course, similar elements can be found in "the city", but their loveliness is diminished by the crowds of crazies and ban on pups.  Richmond Beach was dogtastic, and our (currently blind in one eye) dog was even able to trot leash-free into the agua.  That's what's up.

Kingfisher Friend

Third... psych, we didn't get to a third because we had to shop for groceries.  But no matter, both parks today rivaled my fav Seattle park, Carkeek, and these were just ones we stumbled across.  Who knew our affordable, new community would also be an awesome, new community?

My History with Live Rodents

Rodent Experience #1:

Until 2006, I believed rodents only lived on farms and in dingy New York apartments. Abey Cat debunked that myth with the thoughtful prezzy of a live mouse.  One lovely summer afternoon, he strutted through our open door, rodent in mouth.  He interpreted my scream as, "Oh, obviously Kelly wants this in her room," and he trotted upstairs to liberate the rodent there.

Who could help me?  My first thought was my favorite lesbian, but she didn't answer the phone.  My next thought was my favorite former-country-dweller, Lynn.  She did answer the phone.  Then she came over and we ransacked my room, to no avail.  (This was our first time hanging out in a non-group setting, and we became great pals.  Almost exactly five years later, she officiated my wedding.)

We never found the mouse.




Rodent Experience #2:

Second verse, same(ish) as the first.  It was July 2010, and this time I didn't have to call Lynn because we were roomies.  In fact, we were in the living room sobering up from a Happy Hour On Alki Beach buzz when we heard a strange noise at the front door.  "Dumb Abe," I thought as I opened the door to let him in.  False.  It was actually "Dumb Kelly." The croak was coming from the terrified mouse in Abe's mouth, not Abe himself.  Just like four years before, Abe ran into my room and freed the mouse.  Egggh.

Once again, Lynn was my hero.  She chased the mouse from room to room, trying to kill it with a Catholic Bible (our heaviest book... don't take it personally, Pope) until it holed up in the heater.  Since Drew was on his way over, he agreed to pick up mouse traps.  Lynn set them, and Drew and I barricaded my bedroom while we slept on the living room futon.  Harper's kennel cough, the lumpy futon mattress, and our deep, deep fear made it the worst night's sleep of our lives.

In the morning, the mouse was dead in the trap.  Lynn dealt with it.



Rodent Experience #3:

Six months later, I was living with Drew, and we had another rodent.  This time Abe had nothing to do with it.  We arrived home after being away for Christmas, and the animals were acting suspicious.  Harper barked in the middle of the night.  Abey skitted around the floor like a useless hunter.  Then, I saw it - a mouse home (sans mouse) in a box of panty liners.

So. Gross.

We set traps around the house.  The rodent has not been found.



Rodent Experience #4:

Last week, I was driving home from work when Drew called.  "Kel, are you almost home?" he asked in an unsettling voice.  I said yes, I was five blocks away, and what was wrong?  I thought someone had died.  He whispered, "There is a noise in the bathroom.  I think we have... a mouse."

I walked in confident that he was being paranoid, but my first step in the bathroom revealed a scratching noise.  We thought it came from a drawer.  Drew set traps, and we dashed off to a Thai restaurant to enjoy spring rolls while we waited for the rodent to be snapped to death.

We arrived home to empty traps.  We dehydrated ourselves so that we would not have to use the restroom.  In the middle of the night, we awoke to noisy scratching and clunking.  Fear. Fear. Fear.

Come morning, the traps were still empty.  Our midnight Fright Conversation resulted in a plan that involved giant garbage bags, the drawer thing, and our backyard.  On my morning run to Safeway for said garbage bags, I used their bathroom.  I returned, we enacted the plan, and we found nothing.

That rodent is probably the same rascal involved in Rodent Experience #5.



Rodent Experience #5:

Three hours ago, I heard a familiar scratching.  I boldly walked into the bathroom and kicked the stupid drawers, but the noise continued.  What was this?  It was coming from INSIDE THE WALLS.   Motherf'er.

Drew was at work and Lynn was in California, so I called the neighbors.  I said, "Za, there is noise in my bathroom, and I need you to hear it."  She strolled on over and gently told me, "Umm... that sounds like a rat building a nest."  Since Za is (a) very brave and (b) vaccinated for rabies due to a raccoon incident last year, she took charge.

First, we locked Abe in the bathroom hoping he'd catch the damn thing.  He was pathetic, so we freed him.  Second, we duct taped the crap out of holes under the kitchen sink in case the bastard tried to escape there.  Third, Za courageously vacuumed near the tiny hole behind the toilet to scare it while I stood behind her with an empty box telling myself that I would be strong enough to trap it if it ran by.  Last, we taped up the "vacuum hole" and listened.  Silence.

I have vacuumed every half hour since then just to freak it out.  Move out, rodent!  You're not welcome!  I have called our landlords and they will come get you if you don't leave on your own!

The rodent is still unaccounted before, but at least it's quiet.


I hope this is where my Rodent History ends forever and ever.  We are moving to Shoreline in a couple weeks.  Mice and rats have a reputation to keep, and I'm pretty sure they would never allow themselves to live in the suburbs.


At least it's not dinosaurs.

Christmas Movies

In December, I watch Love Actually and Sleepless in Seattle two to three times a week.  Once I invest in White Christmas, Home Alone (one AND two, perhaps?), and It's a Wonderful Life, I will only leave the house to replenish my hot chocolate and wrapping paper supply.

Also, we bought a house.  Booyaaaa.

What You Don't See In My Paycheck

I am the teacher, so I can force my students to tell me their favorite baby animal.  Last week, I did.  One of my students, an English Language Learner, asked me, "What's the word for a baby camel?"  I answered, "I don't know.  I think 'baby camel'."

I was wrong.  It's a calf.  He was right.  They're adorable.  Here are pictures:

If the "name your favorite baby animal" game was a contest, that student would have won.  What can I ask them that tops this?

Life Things

You know how I know I'm adult?  I almost went to Fred Meyer to buy files.  Files!  (I also had an ulterior motive to invest in fancy apples.  Drew once harassed me about the cost of my favorite apples [Sweet Tango, Pink Lady, Granny Smith, in that order], but now he's gone and married me and there's nothing he can do about my expensive tastes.)  Instead, I will ransack our stinky office/guest room/cat lair and use old ones.  You could call me Frugal Kelly... Frugal Kelly Except for the Apples.

This file mania stems from three situations, two major and one minor.

Major #1: We are going to leave redfin.com and explore the real world of houses.  Living the American Dream will go well with our love for Settlers of Catan.  OMG capitalism.  Anyway, paperwork like "whoa."

Major #2: I officially changed my name today.  The process was made easier by the social security lady who was also born on good ol' April 16th.  You know how when you share a birthday with a stranger, suddenly you're friends?  Yep, we're getting tattoos together tomorrow and then making a tape to be on the next season of Amazing Race.  Anyway, paperwork like "kind of whoa."

Minor #1: Harper Dog murdered our comforter.  It's a relief that the comforter was filled with down rather than grenades or wolverines or volatile sacks of poison, but it still made a mess.  Dust busting our bedroom (because our vacuum cleaner broke the day we received that dust buster... we were destined to hunch while removing grime) sent us into a cleaning frenzy.  Thus, the tossing out of 3-year-old bills.  Get out of here, 3-year-old bills.  (Do NOT get out of here, 3-year-old Bills.  Most of us can agree that non-crying three-year-olds are adorable, and ones named Bill? The vision is a fluffy dream.)

What's next?  Putting away the rest of the wedding prezzies?  Haaaaa.

A silly bird.

Double-crested Cormorants love Hammersley Inlet, the fjord my parents live above. I watch them waggle their wings like the barely evolved rascals they are.

Drew tells me they hold out their wings like football players saying, "Appreciate my masculinity!" because they never acquired whatever it is that allows most birds to dry off.  He's probably right.  However, I choose to think that they do it to entertain me.  I hold binoculars to my eyes like a weirdo to entertain them.  The Cormorants and I have an unspoken agreement to amuse one another.

Nature is considerate of my need to giggle.

Hamb and I got hitched four weeks ago.

Our wedding was so much fun I puked.

The ceremony with a pal's fancy iPhone touch on it.

A shot of the handsome, married, Hamblecouple.

Happy bride, happy parents.

An owl named Pigwidgeon could have delivered this.

I went to Harry Potter land for my bachelorette party. Oh yeah, I totally outbacheloretted you. There, I received the poem below and several tasks that I failed. (Don't judge me. It's hard to order butterbeer in Parseltongue....)

KJDub, the girl who lived,
Many missions you will be gived.

All these tasks you must complete
Or Harpy Walden, Voldy will eat.

You will be given tasks one at a time.
None involve coronas and lime.

Don't look for owls. Florida is too hot.
Task by text is what you've got.

Blimey! Each task will be hard.
Always be vigilant, be on your guard.

Strange people may approach you.
You must complete those tasks too.

After completing the tasks you'll be ready to wed,
And be ready for hippogriff-style in the marriage bed.

Like Harry Potter, you can rely on your friends.
They'll be with you until the end.

We hope you succeed. We hope you don't flunk.
Because once you succeed, we can get crunk!

Paws Up: A Good Week

1. Lady Gaga's new album comes out tomorrow. I plan to sing "Edge of Glory" all day every day until I die or until I discover an even better Gaga tune, whatever comes first.

2. Thursday, I am hopping on a plane with several of my besties and flying to Orlando, Florida. There, we will enjoy Harry Potter land, vitamin D, and an unheated pool.

And Kindle was its name-o

I'm looking at John Steinbeck. He resembles 20% of the men I'd see on Seattle's trendy Capitol Hill. His hair is lightly floofed, his expression is slightly pompous, and he's mustachioed. Don't ask me on a date, John Steinbeck. Do, however, stay on my Kindle because you're a delightful screensaver.

What? Oh, yeah, I have a Kindle. I'm one of thoooose, and I love it. Here are the books my teensy weensy machine has awaiting:
-Moby Dick
-War and Peace
-Poems by Emily Dickinson
-BOSSYPANTS! Booya!

(I ended with that last one by Ms. TINA FEY! Booya! for two reasons.
1. It makes me sound like less of a d'bag than those first ones did. I have no no problem sharing my appreciation of old, snooty books, but I do have shame about listing books to sound awesome. I listed them because they're big and my Kindle is small. Plus, they were free. So it's cool. And anyway, I have about 15 other books like those, and I didn't even tell you about them. 2. Bossypants will transform you into Peepants. I cannot count the number of times it has made me cackle aloud, and my counting skills are above average. Truth. Ask me to count something.)

I also use my Kindle to lose at chess (it keeps me humble), distract Hamb with the word jumble (it keeps him from interrupting bad TV shows I like), and stay up on the terrible, free books that are released every day (it keeps me from being a productive member of society).

I'm not an electronics nerd, but this thing has made my life wonderful. Owning a Kindle + knowing Tina Fey exists and continues to write = the happiest lady on this couch.

Pileated Pal

It's a good thing gray skies don't stop the Walden, because if they did, I would have never made a new bird friend. Yes internet-users, today I saw my first Pileated Woodpecker. "Ain't no thang," you say? You think it's just a bird? You're silly. Look:

The Pileated Woodpecker is funny! It has a red fan head, a gangly neck, and pecks dead trees like there's no tomorrow... or maybe there will be a tomorrow, but all the dead trees will have vanished by then. Either way, the Pileated Woodpecker is a manic with the beak.

I saw the goober today in Carkeek Park. Harper Dog and I were huffing and puffing up a hill (that, if I were in better shape, would not be huff-and-puff-worthy) when I saw a massive, flying, hunk of feathers zoom in front of me. It soared like this other creature did once right before Hamb said, "That was a Pileated Woodpecker that just flew by! Did you see it?" And I was like, "Hamb, you weirdo, you can't tell what the bird was just by how it flew!" But I was wrong. It was my biannual mistake. He could tell what kind of bird it was.

I know this because today when I thought, "Whatty what what... that flew like that other thing Hamb said was a Pileated Woodpecker. Could it be?" I snuck up the trail because I didn't want to scare it away, but it wouldn't have mattered it anyway. It was a Pileated Woodpecker, and it didn't give a Spotted Owl's hoot that I was watching it like a creeper. That bird flicked sawdust this way and hopped that way and totally owned that tree.

It was a thrill, and it didn't even matter that I hadn't brought my new binoculars (a gift from my future in-laws who tricked me into liking these rascally, winged beasts) because it was only fifteen feet away. If Hamb were there, he could have stretched out his freakishly long arm and poked it.

Way to be in my life, Pileated Woodpecker. Also, thanks for coming along after I had already locked down an awesome man so that it doesn't matter if my excessive nerdiness scares of future mates. I don't need them. Just give me my Hamb, my pup, my park, and more goofy-looking birds.