Power Songs... and Sneezing...

Do you have songs that make you feel powerful? I do. Right now, my power song is Glosoli by Sigur Ros. Don't ask me why. My sisters call it my foreign crap music. (Abominable.) Me? I'm empowered. Don't know what the flapdoodle they're saying... but I feel empowered. And I think that Sigur Ros would be okay with that... maybe even a little more than okay. If I could, I would say to Sigur Ros, "Hello. This song of yours makes me feel powerful. Not Napoleon Bonaparte powerful, or Sith Lord powerful, but Mother Theresa powerful." And I imagine that would make them smile.

When I hear this song, I meditate. And I imagine who I want to be and what I want to do with myself. And the image that always comes to the forefront of my mind is never specifically conducive to answers I'm seeking in myself, but the answer is beautiful in its own, random way.

I imagine myself stepping out of a crowd, shrouded in a windswept sundress, barefoot, with a sunflower in my hair, and a yellow balloon in my hand. And I splatter the world with happiness. When I sneeze, my inner happiness splatters all over your face, like the tiny kisses of summer bubbles... and infects everyone in the grocery store, elementary school, and mall the next town over. And when I breathe out my carbon dioxide, the trees embrace me back with their oxygen like recycled hugs.

And then the song ends.

And I realize, I would never purposely sneeze in someone's face! Unless, of course, actual inner happiness really came out. Then, I would wake up the world that way! I would knock on your door, hand you your newspaper, and promptly say "Good morning!" by sneezing directly into your face. Because, that's what a good neighbor would do. And I want to be a good neighbor.

So, to whoever reads this, I hope you have a bold and beautiful day.... and I hope you find your power song.

Also... I hope you'll cover your mouth when you sneeze.

King Herald

So, this Christmas I've decided that I'm going to make a King Herod pinata. I told my sister Carly that I was going to make it and she said, "That's right! You try and kill Baby Jesus, and we'll kill you!" And I said, "That's the Christmas spirit we're looking for!"

Because this time of the year is all about finding joy through exacting vengeance.

My BFF was supposed to come down and help me make it because, well, he's an expert in the field of creepy pinatas. Por ejemplo: He once went to the grocery store and took all the expired food that they'll give you for free and stuck it inside a pinata. And when people whacked it open they were greatly astonished to find an old bagel come flying out. Isn't that deliciously creepy?
I thought so, too, America. I thought so, too. But alas! I shall have to attempt this venture on my own. I feel like a Frodo... without a Sam.

Moving onward...
My family got talking about King Herod last night. This is the delicious conversation that ensued:
Ryleigh: Lauren's going to make a pinata of King Herald!

Me: HA! You mean King Herod.

Ryleigh: Yes. King Herod. Whatever.

Brandon: Jesus was no fan of King Herod. I mean he did behead his cousin John.

Ryleigh: Jesus beheaded someone?! That doesn't make sense!

Me: Yup! Thanks for baptizing me! (Whop!)

Ryleigh: Jesus wouldn't hurt a fly! He created flies! I mean... Heavenly Father did... I mean... (promptly leaves the room.)

The laughter that followed cannot be contained within this small blog...
... I don't think the vast expanse of cyberspace could hold the laughter that ensued.

Stick that in your oven, cyberspace!

The Tree Whisperer

This is a picture of me... and my Christmas tree. I named it Scoli (sk-oh-lee) because he and I both have crooked spines. (Precious.) Funny story about Scoli... he comes from The Dixie National Forest. Turns out we didn't realize that until after we were pulling away with him in the back of the truck. Sorry, America.

Last year we had a tree that had five heads. Five trees in one! HOLY.... TANENBAUM! We had our own little Dixie National Forest... right in our convenient living room. That's right, folks. Go big, or go home. Y'all ain't got nothin' on us! Our Christmas spirit could Chuck Noris your Chrismas spirit... in the face!

Ahem. Because... that's what this season is all about... who can out-do the other.

The year before that, we had Bruce the Spruce. (I am the unofficial tree-namer of my humble abode. It just comes to me... in a whiff of forest green inspiration. You could probably call me The Tree Whisperer. Or not. That would be cool, too... as well... also...)

Anyway... Bruce was a fattie. (Yup. I went there.) He was as wide as he was tall. (Eight feet wide to be exact.) And I loved him for it.

The year before that, we had a tree growing in our front yard that was reaching its full potential... clear up into the powerlines. You know that saying, "Reach for the moon; if you miss, you'll still land among the stars"....? Yeah. Tell that to our tree. It got sawed in half, beheaded from the fall, and used as our Christmas tree that year.

Goodbye hopes...

Goodbye dreams...

Goodbye cruel world...

Hello, Christmas! (What a special time of the year.)

Confession

I am secretly (and sometimes-not-so-secretly) an extremely affectionate person. If I find you endearing or adorable, I want to kiss you on the cheek or forehead, pat your back, stroke your hair, shake your hand, high five you, or give you a hug. Sorry for popping your personal bubble, America.... except for the part where I'm sorry.