violated

somebody broke into our house on saturday night.  we were all out, to dinner or AYL or whatever, but when we came home, we saw that the back door was wide open and the back window had been wrenched off its track.  the screen was on the floor.  the windowsill plant was in the sink.  a sneaker print was on the counter.

grace's laptop is gone, some valuable jewelry and cash from jen's room is gone, too.  that's about it, as far as we can tell so far.  they didn't take as much as they could have; we continually notice expensive things left out in the open that they didn't touch.  and no, they did not take anything from me.  all they did was pull out the drawers of my mini-dresser and dump its contents on my desk.  probably hoping for some cash or jewelry or something.  all they got was hair clips and thumb tacks.  ha.

but i still get a lingering unpleasantness every now and then.  to have somebody go into your stuff, rummage around, pick and choose what to lift, is kind of violating.  i wonder what else they did while they were here.  did they use my toothbrush?  did they climb into my bed?  maybe they farted on pinky and put her back.  i would never know.  of course it's irrational.  all of this is kind of irrational.  why this house?  why did they take this, and not that?  i half expect to find a message from them, scrawled on a post-it, taunting us.  or a facebook album may pop up with all of grace's photos from her laptop. 

it's like somebody is watching us.  they now know stuff about us that only friends and family should know.  that i shed hair on my carpet.  that grace owns a zillion purses.  that jen is folding lots of tiny paper stars.  they know our magazine subscriptions now, and that we eat oreos, and that we have a big hookah sitting in the kitchen, and we don't do our dishes right away.  it's not fair.  we know nothing about them.

pastor king vs chipmunk

chipmunk burrows into the ground by the garage.  my dad stuffs rocks into the burrow. 

chipmunk pulls the rocks out of the burrow.  my dad pours concrete into the burrow.

chipmunk digs another hole next to the original burrow.  my dad covers the hole with old gutter grating.

chipmunk digs yet another hole, this time next to the old gutter grating.  my dad pours chili sauce into the hole.

chipmunk goes MIA for several days, most likely to the chipmunk ER or WC.

chipmunk shows up in the garage while my dad is there.  bad idea.  my dad smashes chipmunk with something heavy and sharp.  now chipmunk is dead. (in all fairness, my dad was going to use poison before, but decided not to on grounds of honor)

my dad takes various photos of chipmunk.

in this one, he poses the chipmunk next to the crevices where he poured concrete.  posing it by the scene of the crime.

my dad would like to tell everyone that the shirt was torn in the struggle with the chipmunk.  and if he looks smug, it's really just the way his face looks when he is humbly triumphant over the defeat of a worthy foe.

this one i cannot explain.

ok, PETA, i'll be seeing you soon, i guess.

secrets?