I have had a grueling week, but I am counting my blessings one by one and counting doubly the fact that the creeps who robbed my home, will not, did not, and can not dampen my spirit for very long!
I am blessed that the creeps did not do harm to my dog, Jazz. Although I am certain that Jazz would have gone right up to the creeps with a toy in his mouth his body wagging his tail, as if to say “Play with me, ” he appears fine.
Jazz is so cute and playful that often people, jokingly, say: “Oh, please let me steal him!” Everyone loves Jazz.
The robbers ignored him, perhaps. I can’t bear to think that they attempted to harm him or kick him away… They didn’t let him out the door as they exited with my large flat-screen TV set.
If only Jazz could talk.
Were they kids who came through a window I’d inadvertently left open? Were they experienced burglars who cased my home to know what to take?
I may never know, but the police seem to think they were young criminals, not yet reaching the age of maturity to know the worth of things, as they missed things of value laying about in my home.
The police have fingerprints. But, if they are criminals in the infancy of their mean career, then we may never find them.
Because they spirited away my entire jewelry box, I feel robbed from the inside.
In the jewelry box there was nothing of great value – no diamonds to speak of. But, I had trinkets with sentimental value. Things I cherished because so many of the things were colored with memories of people I love.
The jewelry has no value to speak of. Those heartless robbers will find no worth in the things in my jewelry box. The value is mine, not theirs. They will find no value from the single opal earring I’d kept all these years because it was a gift from childhood. The value is not in the trinket, the value is wholly from the memories that swirl and hang invisibly from the air surrounding the thing.
The cross owned originally by my great-grandmother is a very plain-Jane one. It came from years and years past – passed down the ages from my great grandmother to my father to me, his daughter. I wanted to give it to my niece.
And, worst of all, my mothers lovely string of pearls. My mother wore those pearls over fifty years ago with her wedding dress. I cherished those pearls. Cherished them.
These are the things that rob me from the inside and make me so angry, so sad.
The rest are just “things” that can be replaced. I can buy another TV, and Wii, and Ipod, and camera.
The rest is silence.
I would rather have a root canal than move. At least a root canal, though painful, is over and done with within a matter of hours. But a move? It’s a long and arduous operation!
Today and yesterday I unpacked the last of the boxes. Knick knacks. (I left the godforsaken “knick knack” boxes for last.)
I “used” to love knick knacks. Now? Well, I’ve concluded that now I only love other people’s knick knacks. Mine are treasures, sure, but I have too many of them! Even the words “Knick Knack” sound unwieldy and cumbersome……
I am up to my eyeballs in Knick knacks and it’s too much. I think I’ll create a knick knack photo album. I’ll take pictures of all my knick knacks (for the memories) and give the actual knick knacks away to Goodwill. Well, that’s the plan. Whether I can really part with all the treasures is another story all together.
But, I digress.
Although I have had so much help from family and friends helping me pack, unpack, get organized, clean, and remain sane, moving has been a challenge – and a blessing, too.
I am blessed with dear friends and family. One of my dear friends even flew down from NYC to help me. That’s a true blue friend.
But, I am blessed. Let me tell you briefly about the blessings before I get to talking about everything I’ve missed in the Casey Anthony case over the past month (so much to catch up with!).
So, I am one of the millions of Americans who got caught up in the real estate debacle. Well, not just caught up in it, drowning in it is more on point. Drowning in it and by it.
In 2006, while I owned a lovely 2 bedroom, 2 bath condo, which was well within my means, I entered into a contract to purchase/build another more expensive condo. Shortly thereafter, the real estate bubble burst and I could not sell my first condo (I relied on the sale of that condo to afford the second condo), and soon I was paying for two places that I could not begin to afford.
I struggled to keep up the payments on both places. It took every penny I earned.
The second condo I purchased for over $250,000, is barely worth $99,000 today. But, I have a buyer and so I’ve walked away from that condo with high hopes the bank will accept the $99,000 and we can all wash our hands of the mess.
I moved back to my original condo. I thought originally that it would be a step down for me to go back. I felt defeated, in a sense. Not any more. Moving back was the best thing I could have done; and I realize how lucky I am. There are countless millions of Americans who are, if not homeless, are on the verge of it.
So, that is where I’ve been and what I’ve been up to.
And, I have not kept up with the Casey Anthony case. The last post I wrote on the case was exactly one month ago. And, my oh my, have I missed a lot!
I see the news today is that Casey Anthony is in arrears and owes the jail commissary upwards of $40.00.
George Anthony used to commit funds to Casey’s jail-house coffers. Has his generosity all but dried up since the publication of Casey’s allegation that George abused her? I wonder if that is the reason. A more likely scenario is that George and Cindy are probably broke, too.
Recent headlines that I missed include:
- Andrea Lyons stepped down from the case. I was shocked and mad to read this. I haven’t had time to read the details or the reasoning behind it. Who is going to fight against the death penalty now? Cheney Mason? Hah! I don’t think so.
- The defense is investigating George Anthony. Really? This is not so curious when you consider the damning evidence her hapless father reluctantly holds against his only daughter. It was George, after all, who testified, reluctantly, in front of the Grand Jury. It was George, the ex-cop who knows the smell of “decomp” who spoke of the smell of death. It was George, the not-so-doting-father who characterized his daughter as less than truthful. George Anthony could quite unwillingly, if seen as credible, be the nail in his daughter’s coffin. Of course the defense wants to discredit him.
- There are recorded prison calls between Jose Baez and the witness Robin Lunceford? On its face, this sounds juicy and nefarious. It seems that Jose Baez believes that this witness has critical evidence to help the defense case. This is just plain sad. If the defense if resting its hopes on this witness, well….. it’s just sad. There may be a hearing on this matter in the coming days or weeks.
- The 911 calls are coming in. No surprise there. What is surprising was that Cindy Anthony behaved herself and we did not have to suffer through a repeat performance of the Morgan deposition.
- Cindy Anthony believes Caylee is still alive???? I am sorry for her denial. It is terribly sad.
- The defense is backing off of the Texas EquuSearch angle? Good. It’s about time.
I am sure I am missing a few items here. I’ve been away for a month; a lot can happen – and it usually does in this case!
I’ll be busy for a couple of days trying to decide what to do with my knick knack memories, but I will be back soon. That I do promise!