A letter to the person who broke into my car tonight

Dear Person,

Dude. Really? Okay, I can sort of see if I was hanging out in the hood of, like, Northeast Minneapolis at 3am on a Saturday night. But you've got BALLS to smash my window and swipe my stuff in broad daylight on Grand Avenue in St. Paul behind a well populated patio-open bar in 70 degree weather on a Tuesday evening. While I was doing YOGA for fuck's sake.

Yes, when it first happened I was surprised. And sad. And pissed. And violated. And relieved. And because I am a wordsmith, here is my message from each of those emotions:

Surprise: Is that my car? That's my car. That's my car with the window smashed right the fuck out. Really? Someone actually did this?

Sad: Dude, someone actually did this. And my stuff is gone. My ipod, which I really enjoyed. And my GPS, which told me where to go and how long it would take me to get there. And you're a really mean person. And I'll cry a little for a few reasons--first because it sucks and I don't deserve to be robbed. Second, because you reminded me that though I'm all yogic and happy and good energy these days, people like you--and a lot worse than you-- are still hanging out in the world being mean.

Pissed: You're an asshole. And you'll get what's coming to you. Karma, baby. Enjoy the twenty bucks you're going to get for my stuff. Savor it. Because you're a dick, and I kind of hope you overdose on whatever you buy with it. What gives you the right to not only steal my stuff, but to vandalize the shit out of me while you do so? Fuck off. Try getting a job and earning some fucking money like the rest of us have to in this life. Remember how I just told you to fuck off? Do it twice.

Violated: Okay, so some guy's hands were all up in my car. My diet coke can was upset and my rear view mirror was out of joint and some stranger's germs and ick and ooginess were all up in my grill. Literally. Disgusting. And you took my stuff. And you rifled through my belongings--not with respect or reverence, but with the intent to harm. And you may know where I live. And you have a GPS that will lead you right to me. And you *touched* my *stuff.*

Relieved: Becuase you were after my things and not me. Because I'm in a place in life where I know that an ipod and a GPS are not rights in this world, but niceities. And because when I came home there was no one waiting in my house but Gatsby, wagging his tail. Windows and electronics are replaceable...that's cool. And I cannot tell you how happy I am, in my only child self, that I really couldn't care less about the loss of possessions. They're stuff. And I can buy more. With cash that is also re-earnable. And I bet I'll appreciate them even more than I did the first time around. And I'll be more careful from now on, which, because everything happens for a reason, will probably safe me, ultimately, from a greater harm than you issued.

So, Person, you can see I'm a touch confused. Because I don't know whether to be mad at you (which doesn't do any good), feel sorry for you (for the bad karma that this and no doubt other poor malevolent decisions will garner you), or devote my next yoga practice to you in the hopes that some positive energy will help you in even the tiniest of ways. Or, perhaps, thank you. Becuase you didn't wait in my car for me to see what else you could take. And yeah, I won't sleep well tonight, but I'm surprisingly okay with that. Because I will sleep again--and I'll do yoga again, and I'll drive again (with a bright new shiny driver side window!) and I'll go shopping and buy myself some new electronics and live to enjoy them.

Sincerely yours,
Kelly
Robbery Victim..er...Victor.

Peddling my wares...

It started with a credit card I got when I was 15 to take to France with me for "emergencies." Seventeen years later, I'm in debt. Not frighteningly so, but it's getting pretty close. So, I decided that I needed an intervention. And, the only person who would do that would be me. So, I had a long conversation with myself about where I am now and where I want to be and how I'm going to get there. And I decided that I needed to simplify. I need to simplify my house, my budget, my debt...pretty much my whole existence.

Last week I did clothes. I cut pretty deep, getting rid of some 60 pieces of clothing. I'll probably get the same amount when I do it again for summer clothing. Yeah, it's not hard to see where the debt came from, believe me. Today, I went straight for my own jugular. My bookcases. I'll spare you the gory details. Suffice to say, I removed about 150 books from my stacks.

This is where you come in. I need you to reach into your pockets and buy my books. They make great Christmas gifts, I promise. And I'm not talking crap books, either...there are authors you'll recognize and authors you won't, but I promise you all the books are good. Well, someone likes them. They make bestseller lists and stuff.

Enough talking... here's the link to the ad where my books are listed. The shipping is free. And if you buy more than one I'll probably cut you a pretty good deal. And you can probably write it off on your taxes as a charitable donation, because this girl needs some charity right now. Selling my books off...can you believe it?

Things I saw at Wal-Mart

Due to recent financial duress I've sunk to not only shopping at Wal-mart, a store which I believe is nearly singlehandedly responsible for the downfall of America, but to looking only at the "price per unit" on any item I buy. It's embarrassing. So, to keep myself amused, I keep track of things that happen that could *only* happen at Wal-mart.

So, for your amusement (and mine), I present my second list of the day:
Things I saw at Wal-Mart

1. A woman in pink sweatpants and a cart filled with 25lb bags of cat food walking down the aisles yelling "Connie!"

2. Dale Gribble

3. An Asian man who, walking toward me with his cart, stopped his cart directly in my path, smiled at me, then walked away sans cart halfway down the aisle to get some dish soap

4. Really. Dale Gribble.

5. A teen in a Blink 182 t-shirt who was either jamming out to the music in her head or having some type of seizure near the Pringles

6. Another teen standing in the dairy throwing a temper tantrum for cheese. "Moooooooommmmmmmm.....CHEEEEEEEEEEEEEESSSSSSEEEEEEEEEEUUUHHHHHHHHH"

7. Dale Gribble was not smoking a cigarette. Had he been smoking a cigarette, you'd have had to pick me up off the floor for laughing.

8. Nick the Cashier who said "You look like you're having a rough day, if you don't mind my saying," after explaining why it was he was on cashier tonight instead of on sales where he was supposed to be, not one word of which I understood. But he was still adorable. And he wished me a happy Sunday, which is more than anyone else did today.

9. The "Connie" screamer. I saw her four times. Connie, for the record, did not appear, though I did see a ten year old girl running surreptitiously down the meat section. Probably Connie.