I’ve recently been knocked down but not out, as I suspect one of my sons stole my laptop which was chock full of what powers my life; both personal and financial. I’ve been blue about it, angry and resentful, looking much like my grandson's expression here, and I almost quit on my blogs once again. Slamming around my house, muttering and furious, it’s taken me eight days to calm down.

I just couldn’t figure if God was trying to tell me something or not, but then I get so many emails telling me that my odd life gives them hope which makes me want to continue writing. Loose translation: when one’s life is cruddy, at least Cindy’s life is cruddier.

I get it and I’m fine with that, apparently many of us are in the same boat.

I’ve filed a police report, one daughter called pawnshops, I’ve questioned siblings, and I’ve paced around the house trying to decide what to do. That laptop had my Quicken, my nerdy budget spreadsheets, and everything I need in order to run our life. I’d not backed up the information in months, but I now believe, many tears later over an inanimate object, that I can recreate some of the info. Much of my journaling is gone though.

As usual around here, all eyes have been on Mama. Will this make her quit? Throw in the towel? I’ve been morose, but am starting to pull myself out of this pit. Spit, don’t quit…whatever dumb phrase that’s run through my head trying to make myself get back up on my old clichés and ride.

And besides my hissy fit meltdowns, so much more has been going on around here lately including a runaway who is still gone, two court dates, an unexpected birth mother meeting with a grown child and I, plus the usual trials and travails we encounter on a daily basis.

This has greatly topped my usual experiences with theft in children who’ve come from deprivation and lack, this one has spilled over into a possible charge and conviction.