For the past several years, Sky and I have basically been the only house on the street to put up Christmas lights. We're frustrated about this because if you go a block in pretty much any direction it's like you've entered the North Pole.
Our street slopes down into a hill at about the midpoint, which is exactly where our house is. As a result, the east side of our property is about six feet higher than the west side. Because we sit at this spot, our house is very noticeable. So when we erect our lights, they really stand out and represent our neighborhood.
"Why doesn't anyone else get into the spirit?" we lament every November as we line our walkway with ground-level lights and fasten together a rainbow tree that Skylar begs me to leave in the box because "it's hideous."
"It looks like a firework explosion in front of our house!"
I shush him and we move on.
We thought we'd spend another year disappointed to be lone wolves among a pack of neighborhood grinches. We had prepared ourselves emotionally for this.
But then on Friday, as we were setting up our Christmas tree inside, we noticed several neighbors out on their front lawns looking up the street and pointing. It was like that scene from every disaster movie where the protagonist looks out the window and sees people captivated by something not yet pictured so then they walk outside and look up and there's a massive UFO or something at the horizon.
Except in our case it wasn't a massive UFO. We walked outside to look for ourselves. And that's when we saw it.
I have described this to several people now and every time I've said "you really aren't understanding how ridiculous this is from my description." I'm pretty sure a picture won't really do it justice, either. But I'll try both here.
The neighbors up the street in this very small bungalow house have put a GIANT snowman in their front yard. We honestly both screamed a little when we saw it. This this is substantially taller than the house and it takes up basically the entire front yard. I don't even know where you can get something like this.
I took some very sloppy pictures while driving by it yesterday.
It lights up in the evening--the whole thing turns blue and looks like a spaceship has landed in Salt Lake City.
It's honestly terrifying.
Skylar has suggested we start praying to it.
We like to think this neighbor heard us complaining that no one on the street decorates for Christmas and this is really just a superbly wonderful passive-aggressive gesture.
But I'm afraid it's something more extraterrestrial than that.
Anyway, please enjoy some Strangerville:
This time in Strangerville, Eli urges you not to take prescription medications that aren’t for you. Meg agrees, and is disappointed. And a roll down memory lane in Utah’s musty skating rink.
Classic Skating, by Eli McCann (music by Gillicuddy)
Production by Eli McCann, Meg Walter, & The Beehive
~It Just Gets Stranger