Karma? Luck? Shit Happens?
Sunday we went to beautiful Balboa Park to the Old Globe Theater. The Old Globe is a replica of the one in Stratford-on-Avon where Shakespeare staged his plays. Well, not exactly, the original replica was burned down (arson) in 1978 and replaced by a modern version that is much larger.
There are three theaters in this complex, the one we went to was a small “theater in the round.” It was great—you felt like you were in someone’s living room.
JJ and I love the theater, we used to be season ticket holders, but we have not been since we left the Southland for the central coast, 13 years ago. So this was exciting and made us even more anxious to buy a condo in the area.
When we returned to our car, we found it had been “keyed,” from front to back on one side.
Heartbreaking, yes, but it can be repaired. Who would do such a thing. For no apparent reason. The hate that lives in people’s hearts astounds me.
Nonetheless, we soldiered on and went to the Gaslamp District in downtown San Diego. We had an early dinner at Croce’s, a favorite of ours. It’s Jim Croce’s wife’s place and consistently creative and exquisite.
We shared the Baked brie with honey-roasted garlic and berries appetizer, which is out of this world.
Outside Croce’s (you can see the reflection). Sorry this is a crappy photo but I took it with my phone, which I am not very good at. A dog is driving the car unassisted. Only in California.
The next day JJ spent most of the day on the phone dealing with the insurance company about repairing the car while I played a game on the computer. A knock came at our motorhome door and a very nice man said he saw the For Sale sign in the window and was interested to buy it. We invited him in and showed him around, and he took pictures to show his wife. He made us an offer very near our asking price, and said he’d meet us at our bank to make the deal when we got the pink slip. We shook hands and he left. JJ said he didn’t think we’d ever see him again—something didn’t smell right. About three minutes later I remembered I had left my rings in the little dish by the sink in the bathroom. Of course they were gone. I was with him when he looked in the bathroom, but I didn’t see him take my rings.
Here is a picture of the thief and his accomplice when he was caught on the surveillance camera entering the campground. It was a Monday afternoon and very quiet around the park—most people were probably at the races or Legoland. The receptionist was very helpful, he had noticed the truck and and helped us make a description to the police. He told us we were lucky—much worse things have happened to unsuspecting people selling motorhomes. We filed a police report, but I doubt I’ll ever see my wedding rings again. It was hard to feel sad because I felt so stupid.
I have removed the For Sale sign from the window and we are both much wiser. Much. Well, I hope so, anyway.