Heidi Beth and I spent a week in San Diego. We flung Granny Olive's ashes into San Diego Bay, and after Heidi's Sea-Sick Sister Tessa said goodbye in her own voluminous and aromatic way, they were promptly plowed under by a passing aircraft carrier (exactly as I wish to go). We also visited pandas, koalas, baby elephants ("larva"), went to the beach, and went to Disneyland. A pleasant time was had by all (except Olive).
Then we came home to find our house was modestly ruffled. My mountain bike was stolen (Titus Motolite, blue with red accents), my wedding ring, a couple iPods, a couple stacks of DVDs, Playstation 2, and other various odds-and-ends. Apparently they just walked in the back door - I guess I left it unlocked. The dogs were at my parents house, which I suppose is lucky. Lucky for the burglar, that is! They would have ripped him limb from limb!
How's that for a crappy way to end your vacation? We came home Thanksgiving night just before midnight after spending the afternoon with my parents (they had the dogs, remember). We then had a nice policeman and a crime scene investigator at our home until about 3:30 in the morning. They actually dusted for fingerprints and took a few notes - way more than I'd expected to get. Now it's just a matter of talking to our insurance company and tallying up our losses (really it's the Picasso that hurts the most. And my beanbag chair of diamonds).
Damn you Robin Hood!
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