It's a Crime

        Okay, I’ve been thinking about criminals again. They fascinate most of us, which is why there are so many detective movies and TV shows. Who would have the guts to do the things they do, right?

          You might recall this post some time ago, about the various crimes that could have explained what I found in my bathtub.

          But today I’m thinking about how deftly criminals seem to escape the odds.

          For example, in big urban areas where there are muggings, how come a mugger never gets mugged? A pickpocket never loses his latest treasure to another pickpocket, either. How do they beat these odds?

          Let’s say a burglar breaks into your home. I have never once heard of him finding another burglar already there.  “Sorry, Mate,” he says—I’ve made him British—“Didn’t see your name on the calendar.”

          “No worries,” the fellow replies. “Can you help me lift this TV?”

          Crazed killers never run into other crazed killers, either. I imagine it would be a buzz-saw showdown, but no. They somehow manage to skirt around the other lunatic’s territory.

          Which brings me to my theory that this is why it’s called Organized Crime. They have secret calendars (online of course) where they “dibs” certain days, times, and addresses. An old criminal with bad knees coordinates the entire enterprise, and gets a cut of the proceeds.

          And that is how they never overlap. You’re welcome.

You might want to stack a bunch of my books near your TV, for them to get engrossed reading, and then you can catch them.

The Unwelcome Wagon

           There used to be a lovely slice of Americana, where women would drop by the homes of new people moving in, and bring them all kinds of goodies, gifts, and coupons. It was called the Welcome Wagon.  Alas, these in-person visits are no more, though the company still does online marketing, mail, and telemarketing. (Isn’t this a bit like your favorite candy shop turning into a car warranty store and then calling you every day?)

          Anyway, lots of folks choose to do it themselves. In our family, the kids know --and think it’s the law, possibly-- that if someone moves in, they get a plate of cookies. I also like to recommend good local merchants, restaurants, and such. It’s neighborly. It’s nice. Right?

          So I saw a moving van down the street and decided to pop over with a plate of goodies the next day. As I arrived, a man came walking down the driveway, so I hurried to meet him. I introduced myself and said, “I thought I’d bring you some cookies. Welcome to the neighborhood.”

          He took the plate without a word, got into his pickup truck, and drove off. Whaaat?  Why didn’t he go inside and ask his wife and kids to come out and meet the new neighbors? Or at least take the cookies into the house, instead of just driving off with them?

          WHAT IF HE’S A BURGLAR AND DOESN’T LIVE THERE AT ALL?

          It’s mighty suspicious. And what person--myself excluded-- could eat an entire plate of 16 cookies all by himself?  Surely he would take them inside to share, maybe grab a couple of them for the road, and then leave.

          UNLESS HE’S A THIEF ON  THE RUN. OR A CRIMINAL MASTERMIND. 

          It’s mighty creepy. Not sure it’s as creepy as a woman driving by later to check things out, spy, and see if he’s still there. But we’ll find out.

And yes, this incident later appeared in my book, Golden. Sometimes art imitates life.

I Was a Burglar Prodigy

          I’m not Catholic, but if I were (and we’ve all imagined ourselves in those confessionals we see in the movies) I would have to confess to stealing something when I was three.

          Wait—Mormons get baptized when we’re eight—the age of accountability—so anything I did at age three is forgiven.  Whew!  But if I had to repent of theft, this would be the shameful event I would share.

          My parents had decided to buy a swing set for my sister and me—she was eight, I was three.  No, I did not steal a swing set. 

But on the way to the swing sets in a giant department store, we passed the candy counter.  And, lo and behold, the glass case was broken, and chocolates were just sitting there, five inches from my head as I walked by.

 I reached out what was probably a chubby little fist, and grabbed some.  I also realized immediately that this was wrong, and kept my hand clamped shut so no one would know of my dastardly deed.  Of course the one thing I’ve ever stolen had to be chocolate—aaugh!  Some things never change. 

Well, not surprisingly, by the time we got to the swing sets the chocolate had melted and was oozing out my fingers.  “What’s in your hand?” I was asked.  Yikes.  I kept it closed.  Finally it was pried open and my dishonesty was revealed.

          My parents were appalled.  Even I was appalled, and I didn’t even know what appalled meant.  I was severely reprimanded and my hand was cleaned off.  But even worse, my consequence was not getting a swing set.  This meant my sister didn’t get one, either.  In fact, I never  got a swing set.

          This is how I avoided what was surely going to become a life of not-very-organized crime.  I learned never to take what didn’t belong to me, and that our actions often affect others. Too bad it didn’t teach me to give up chocolate.  Oh, well.  Two out of three ain’t bad.

If all this chocolate talk has made you hungry, check out my humorous chick lit novel, Sisters in the Mix, which you can find here.  It’s about a crazy lady with a cooking show, and wait ‘til you see what she does with chocolate.

Yet Another Career I’ll Never Have

          I think we can all agree that some jobs take more than training; they take innate ability.  For example, you could train to be a surgeon, but if you’re squeamish, you’ll faint and bomb out of that career.

          If you like to sing, but you simply don’t have the pipes, you will probably not become a recording artist.  (You might, however, get your 15 minutes of fame on a TV talent show.)

          Hence, someone with ADD should probably reconsider burglary as a profession. 

          Yesterday I read in the news that a burglar was caught after he broke into someone’s house, used their computer to visit his Facebook page, and then forgot to log out.  Ah, yes—no one ever said this was a job for geniuses only.

          I would imagine burglary might require a skill set I do not possess, not least of which is remembering to log out, should I suddenly decide to scroll through social media postings while I am at work (can’t you get fired for that?)  Picking locks and carrying heavy loot are also talents I lack, not to mention being willing to climb through spidery bushes.

         I would also have a tough time briskly walking past a kitchen table with a domed cake plate in the center of it.  What could be under there?  Could it be chocolate? And where do they keep the forks?

          I would also be a terrible police detective.  A stakeout in a parked car after about 10 pm would be out of the question—I’d fall asleep.  And I would no more walk down a dark alley after midnight than hit myself in the head with a hammer.  Criminals hang out in scary places where I have absolutely no interest in going.

          Unless I’m solving a crime in somebody’s home.  And then, of course, I’d check their computer and their cake plate.  Those are magnets for people who can’t stay on task.  Trust me.

Even if you’re “borrowing” someone else’s computer, you can subscribe to this bi-weekly blog of brilliance.  Do it today, and don’t miss a single post!

My Lucy Life

             New neighbors have moved in around the corner, so last week I drag St. Bob with me to take them a plate of cookies.  You move onto my turf and you get goodies, it’s Joni’s Law. 

            And I also take them a flyer about a civic meeting, news of when my own church services are, and a list of fun local attractions, in case they’re from out of state.  

            It’s about 7 p.m., and as we pull over, I notice a man coming down the driveway in the dark, so I jump out and introduce myself.  I find out his name is David, and he has a wife and two teenage boys.  I hand him a plate of my very best cookies (trust me, these are chewy and delicious and there are 16 of them on the plate).

            Bob shakes his hand, and the guy proceeds to climb into a truck, also parked at the curb, and drives off!  With the cookies!

            Okay, something here is amiss, starting with the cookies.  “Why didn’t he go inside and ask his wife and kids to come out and meet the new neighbors?” I ask Bob.  “And why didn’t he at least take the cookies inside, instead of just driving off with them?”

            Bob has no answer to this, but I have an answer: The guy is a burglar!  It’s the only explanation, right?  I mean, technically he wasn’t even in the house.  David—if that’s even his real name-- was probably just casing the joint, and then took off with that family’s cookies!

            Seriously, what person (myself excluded) could eat an entire plate of 16 cookies by himself?  Surely he would take them inside to share, maybe grab a couple of them for the road, and then leave. Right?  And anyone with any manners at all would call his family to come out and get acquainted.  Unless what?  Unless he’s a thief on the run, that’s what.   So now I am aiding and abetting and feeding a criminal.  Possibly even a criminal master mind.

            Bob listens to my theory and then says he’s not coming with me on any more of these deliveries.  I am stunned.  At the very least you’d think he would come along to protect me.  I mean, who knows who else will move in?  The next person could be a kidnapper!

            I’ll tell you, I’m going to drive by from time to time and see if this “David” makes an appearance.  I’m also going to watch for a mom and two teenage boys.  After all, we can’t be too careful in this crazy world.  There are all kinds of people out there—burglars, stalkers—oh, wait a second.

            You might not be able to move next door and get a plate of cookies, but you can certainly subscribe to my Youtube Mom channel here, and get tons of great information-- a new post every weekday!