Shards of Glass

Well, this seals the deal. An “i love it” moment like this cannot go undocumented. And so here goes the blog.

Sometimes after waking up early, driving to Salt Lake and back, and going to five hours of church, you are ready to get home and get some food. You are NOT ready to go out to the church parking lot and find that your window has been shattered, and your purse has been stolen. But sometimes, this happens. Sometimes as in yesterday. So yes, I used to think that Cedar Hills was a safe little haven of Utah—it is, after all, home to the annual Cedar Hills Family Festival every 24th of July—but now, I fear it is a hub of organized crime. Okay, that could possibly be an overstatement. Possibly. The bad news is that my digital camera was inside the stolen purse so there will be ZERO pictures to accompany this story.

The basic run-down of the situation: I have been staying in Cedar Hills with my little sister, Jill, while the parents are in Chile. Went to 9 AM church up in SLC where I live. Hurried back down to meet Jill for stake conference in Cedar Hills at 1 PM. Had the purse in the car so I would have my license with me. Stupidly left the purse on the passenger seat of my locked car as I rushed into church. And you can guess what happened from there. I guess five hours of church doesn’t guarantee immunity from such atrocities. Weird.

I had a blast that afternoon on the phone with the police, the insurance, the bank, the credit card company, and all such customer service phone agent friends of mine. I’m crazy about all of them. Especially Betty. The good news is that later that night a lady in Pleasant Grove called me to tell me she had found my purse thrown on the side of the road. Miracle from heaven is what that is. Everything was there besides my camera. Which devastates me (though I know I’m lucky to get anything back and so I’m extremely grateful), because I have pictures on there that have yet to be downloaded or saved in any manner. So here is a tip: Don’t wait six months to download your pictures. And I hope whoever has my camera enjoys the pics from the ghetto-fabulous twenties party that my crazy family had last Saturday night. Also, I think it is safe to say that it was not seasoned criminals behind this incident. If it would have been they would have realized that the purse itself was worth more than the camera—ya, don’t worry, my styling brother (who only shops at Nordstroms) got me the Coach purse for my birthday last year. He has more style than I ever will. I wouldn’t even know what a Coach purse was. Apparently my window-smashing buddies didn’t either. Worked out good for me.

I could be wrong, but I don’t think it is a good thing when your gear shift is making grinding and crunching noises because shards of glass are wedged into it. I think I will be finding shards of glass in my car until the early 90’s. 2090 that is. And yes, though calling them pieces of glass would also be an accurate description—I prefer to call them shards. It is not often you get to use the word shards and so, you know, seize the opportunity. Seize the freaking day.

So sometimes when you no longer have a passenger side window, the ride to work in the morning is a little chilly. I guess I should look on the bright side. At least it is not the middle of January. And at least I am not picking shards of glass out of my eye.