take a sip

I am writing this post using a keyboard. A real keyboard on a real laptop. My thumbs are a little confused since they are not having to pull the weight and do all the typing. Ahh, it sure does feel good to spread the typing love out to all these fingers. 

But oh dear, I'm getting ahead of myself. Let me explain. 

As I started rounding up all the ideas running free in my head about what angle to use on this post, I noticed that most of my recent posts have been happy posts, or posts trying really hard to be happy and positive and cheery. Because when life gives you lemons you're supposed to make lemonade (the raspberry kind, please and thank you) and all that, right? 

Well the lemonade I have been making lately has been sour. SO sour. Squinchy face and teary eyes sour. Eww! When they (you know, those people) tell you the making lemonade saying, they never tell you there is a chance it will turn out sour. And my most recent batch of life/sour lemonade had a pitch of crime mixed in it.

Dun dun dun! Crime Fighting CSI: Atlanta Blog Post begins now.

Three weeks ago, some person on this Earth, in this state, in the city of Atlanta decided to bust my window and steal my book bag out of my car. I am still unclear as to if they were bored, mean, or if they just really wanted to wear my new purple pants. Or my favorite article of unmentionables. Oh yeah, and use and abuse my Macbook. My precious Ron Swanson covered baby Mac. Whoever it was, the police officer assured me he or she was no professional 13 year old because of the thoughtless way they broke my window. 

Well, SIGH OF RELIEF, I'm glad the amateur 12.5 year olds were the ones that found my car. 

To be honest, I have had/am having a hard time dealing with this and all the other seemingly sour sips of life as of late. I've been through all the mad, sad, furious, scared, more scared, and upset phases. I still can't forget the feeling of complete fear that spread over me as I walked up to my car that morning and noticed half my window hanging on, the rest crumbled in on my driver seat. Or the feeling of dread when I approached the broken window and saw the empty spot where my book bag once sat. The book bag that had a big portion of my little life in it.

To make an extremely long story short, I will sum up with these words/thoughts:

1) Find My Mac app is great...

As long as you are rich and can hire a personal detective and bypass the police stage.

2) Russ Moore = Sherlock Holmes. 

3) Mary Caroline Moore = an angel sent to comfort and to replace make up and shampoo and brushes and toothbrushes and deodorant and clothes and shoes and chargers...

and maybe one day replace my baby Mac. For now, as I type on my dad's old netbook and feel so 2007-y, I feel grateful. Grateful that I wasn't in the car. Grateful that FF and my fam answered my desperate weeping phone calls that morning/following weeks. Grateful that I have the tools to make lemonade, whether is it sour or not. 

Grateful that I can finally write a new blog post! Hello! Did ya miss me??

And while I'm still scared and some days I still think bad guys are everywhere around me (yes, I am 5, so what), I will more than likely still sit here and sip on some lemonade. And type using all my fingers on this swanky keyboard.

And think about that person who is walking around in purple pants using my former Macbook.

What else has been happening?

This guy celebrated a birthday.

This guy also celebrated a birthday. And came home for a visit.

And this guy felt well enough to take his healing leg/hip out for a day on the town!