I am a Frodo

Being home, I feel kind of like Frodo Baggins upon his return from Mordor.

I've formed lifelong, deep, lasting friendships due to being through hell and back with people.

I've learned what I'm made of.

I've learned the bigger picture.

I've been part of something big and life-changing and hard and beautiful and important and heartbreaking.

And that leaves an unyielding mark.

And just like Frodo, I'm ready to sail on to something that will give me purpose again.

Kanga What?! Kanga Boot!

Aren't they disgusting? I'm just going to give you a minute, dear reader, to revel in their hideous glory.

Now that we've established how hideous they are, can you now appreciate how hilarious and joyful they are?

The first time we met, I was at Ross's. And I think it was love at first sight. Because they made me laugh so hard that I literally was sitting on the floor of the department store, slapping the ground in uncontrollable melee. Carly dared me to try them on. And try them on I did. She tinkled as I hopped down the aisle in my too large kangas.

Half an hour later, as we both waddled to the restroom, we decided that I should buy them. Because anything that brings that much laughter into our lives should be made a permanent resident.

I have never regretted this decision. They have traversed with me through various adventures; I shall now disclose for your enjoyment one such occasion.

One day, I wore them to my AP Spanish class. My friend, Brenden-- quite an academic, I assure you-- bursted out in a fillibuster of exasperated humor, "Laur, I can't even concentrate with you wearing those shoes!" Mission accomplished, Brendy. Do your circumstances not seem all the brighter, young one? I patted him sympathetically on the back and then reached into the pouch attached around my ankle to pull out a miniature-sized snickers bar to placate him with. How do you conjugate: hilarity erupting in a classroom? No one knew, so we all just tried to roll our r's as we chortled in Spanish.

(Previously mentioned pouch in which said candy bar resided.)

Punch!

So, the other day, I got thinking about Satan. You know... that fallen angel who makes your life miserable at times. Anyway, I got to thinking about him, and I thought out loud, "I would happily punch you in the face if I could." And then I thought out loud, "Oh wait... you don't even have a face for me to punch! In your face, loser!" (Speaking out loud to invisible beings makes me feel more whole as a human being at times. Because, really, who's humane if you're not a little crazy?)

Anyway, punching Satan in the face got me to thinking about other intangible beings whom I should very much like to punch in the face:

Voldemort. I would gladly punch you in the face... if I didn't think you would go all avada kedavra on me.

Darth Vader.

Every single character in the book Twilight.

Fernon Mondego.

Robinson Crusoe... no one cares! It's why we voted you onto the island. Also... if you say woe is me one more time, "PUNCH!"

Hamlet and Ophelia.

Also... Romeo and Juliet.

Reverend Arthur Dimmsdale.

Tom Sawyer... a couple of times.

John Smith

Mr. Wickham

Emma Woodhouse

President Snow from The Hunger Games

But most especially, you, Scarlet O'Hara from Gone with the Wind. I salute you in your wretchedness. You take evil to a whole, new, inhumane level. There really is nothing scarier than a woman scorned... no not even you Chuck Norris. Scarlet, I would happily punch you in the face if I could. But alas... I cannot. Blast my wretched luck!

Also... blast my peaceful disposition! I should very much love to punch you all!

...If only my conscience would allow it.

Alarm This, Alarm Clock!

How silly is this: In order to set the alarm clock on my phone, I have to first wade through the "fun and applications" button. I find that alarming. Here is a list of times when it would be fun to wake up to an alarm clock:

Mondays.
....kidding
Morning of a vacation day
The morning of the day I'm going to the temple
Christmas Day
Mother's Day
St. Patrick's Day
National Polka Dot Day
The morning that any Harry Potter book came out
First day of school
The Fourth of July
The morning of the hot air balloon launch
Also... any other rare, but splendid, occasion.


That is it! Because honestly, how "fun and applicable" is it to get out of bed in the morning to that wretched and incessant beeping sound?

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.)