In Which Miss Jill And Her Teenage Cousin Accidentally Miss The Hogwarts Express

Since this blog used to be private, many of you probably don’t know that I have magical powers. Please click here to get the background story.

My recent victories include my job (I drew a picture of myself saying, “I work with kids and I love it”), my friend hooking up with a guy with luscious hair, the nineteen-year-old model (NYOM to some of you) going on two dates with NFL players and another friend getting her dream job. Yes, there have been a few failures (where is my true love, Mr. Economist Reader?), but I think that they are just a matter of timing, which is a factor that I have been unable to harness control over.

I would be remiss if I did not mention that I am not the only person in my family who has mystical capabilities-one of my cousins is also blessed with a similar gift. As we were eating dinner one day she announced, “Good news. I know how to read auras.” My interest was piqued because my friend Tiff and I wanted to learn and I practiced the skill on my classmates while I was taking these boring graduate education classes in Utah. I’m sure that they loved my squinting stare in the middle of a lecture. My biggest accomplishment was seeing a shady outline around a third grade teacher from West Jordan, but that may or may not have been because I didn’t wear my glasses that day.

She taught us that when we closed our eyes, the first color that we saw was the color of our aura. Everyone closed their eyes and excitedly shouted out what color they saw. I saw yellow. As she explained what they meant, we were amazed that the descriptions fit each of us so well. Even the middle aged uncles closed their eyes and concentrated on the colors.

I was excited that I finally had a marketable skill, so I called my sister from the dinner table and had her try it. Hers was black, which I took as a dire portent and reflected with more insight on the time that she told me that she was going to poke my eye out and cheerfully watch the oozing goo. Because I believe in repentance, I will not reveal which sister this was.

As I was about to mass text all of my new age friends, I asked my cousin where she had learned this marvelous new skill. “It’s easy,” she replied. “I made it up, but it makes sense, don’t you think?” I was seriously impressed that she had motivated several people in their sixties and even my eighty-four year old grandma to strain to see the colors. Try it yourself and let me know what you think.