Right up there with talking trees

You've done well for yourself, Laurel.

Real well.

Overshot all the forecaster's predictions.

Actually, you've thoroughly embarrassed them. Nostradamus is particularly mortified.

Tell you what, how about next time we not tell everyone you're just going to "chill out"?

You rock,
    The Universe

Don't worry, though, it's only added to your mystique. Now, Laurel, you're right up there with talking trees.