You're gonna make it after aaaaaaalllllllll!

My in-laws' London home was broken into last night (insert sad and/or crying smiley here). They didn't get too much and at least no one was hurt, but it sucks nonetheless. Oh, but the car was stolen and M-I-L's Dooney and Bourke bag, which she had purchased on a visit to the states, was taken as well.

I was so upset to get this e-mail this morning though...please tell me how the woman is so calm...


Hi Brooke,
We have a bit of a problem here. Last night we had a break-in and amongst a few other things, my mobile phone was stolen - and my Dooney & Bourke bag! :*-(

Oh, and they took J's bunch of keys and stole the car as well! So we've had to have all new locks and I'm currently making a list of what's missing and trying to remember exactly what was in my bag - could you name everything in yours? Show me a woman who can! :-(

The cats - particularly Lyra - woke me at 4.00am but I thought they were just being pests. Lyra was running round and round the bed with her tail like a bottle-brush and scrabbling at the pillow beside my head. And I scolded her and shook her by the scruff of her neck! Poor little guard-cat, doing her best to warn the household and getting told off and 'scruffed' for it! I'll never ignore her trying to get my attention again! :*-((

Anyway, must go now - lots of clearing up to do! Not too much mess thankfully, but clouds of finger and footprint dust!

Keep 'blogging' by the way! I really look forward to reading it every day :-)
Love to you both;

(Lesson learned? LISTEN TO YOUR CATS.)

But um, yeah. My blogging is the real concern here. Must be that stiff British upper lip or something.

Years ago, I was feeling particularly independent for having moved out of husband numero uno's home, "making it on my own" (picture a Mary Tyler Moore-like toss o' the beret), and getting along just fine without anyone's help, thankyouverymuch.

Then I went away for the weekend...only to find that someone had broken in, stolen a few items, left a window open (which thank god my kitty didn't jump out of) and generally made a big, fat, upended mess.

It wasn't until a few days later that I suddenly realized the jewelry box I had kept on my dresser was missing. It was only for jewelry that I hardly ever wore...mostly heirlooms, treasured gifts, and pieces with only real sentimental value to me. IT. WAS. GONE.

I cried and cried and cried over the fact that these people (which turned out to just be a punk 15-year-old kid in need of daddy's attention) had no idea what this stuff meant to me. Of course, he had just probably pawned the lot, and I'm sure it didn't bring much.

The VCR...I got that back for some insane reason. 'Cause heaven knows, THAT was irreplaceable.

But I did learn that you can bounce back from all that crap. OK, I moved out in order to do said bouncing. But I did eventually stop wanting to throttle the punk.

I'll never get to wear my grandmother's opal ring, but I have the memory of having to wait until I was sixteen to have it bestowed upon me. I was so excited and I couldn't wait for that day...I had been trying it on since I was a child. And I did pull it out every so often on special occasions.

But my Gaa, of all people, would have told me to get over it and move on. Maybe she was British.

P.S. Go Bruins!