Noah Thomas Didn't Have to Die to Be in a Better Place

"So long as little children are allowed to suffer, there is no true love in this world."  -Isadora Duncan

The parents of Noah Thomas, the five year old boy from Dublin, VA who was found dead in a septic tank near his parents' rented trailer, were arraigned this Good Friday afternoon. Ashley White, 30, and Paul Thomas, 32, were charged Thursday with two felony counts of abuse and neglect of children.

From this WDBJ package - "Media members were allowed to attend the hearing, but cameras were not allowed inside. White said she did not want media inside of the hearing because this is the worst thing that has ever happened to her and she doesn’t want her life to be the topic of everyone’s dinner conversation."

Excuse me? This is the worst thing that has ever happened to her??? Not her son? Not her boy? Not her child? Not Noah?

And from this Roanoke Times article came this statement by Noah's father, Paul, who also objected to the media present -- “I don’t want my life to be their news story.”

Again, his life? What about his son, his boy,  his child? What about Noah's life? More than likely, it is thanks to the selfish likes of you two, that he no longer has one.

From the same Roanoke Times article, as of today, the parents are charged as follows:

"Thomas was charged under a subsection of the law that relates to “reckless disregard for human life.” His charges are a Class 6 felony and carry with them a minimum of a one-year prison sentence and up to five years for each charge.

White was charged under two different subsections of the law. One charge, like Thomas’, relates to “reckless disregard for human life” and carries with it the same punishment. However, she is also being charged under a more serious subsection that is a Class 4 felony which is punishable by no less than two years and no more than 10 years.

That subsection involves “serious injuries” to a child that were received under an adult’s care. Those injuries, as defined by state code include: “disfigurement, a fracture, a severe burn or laceration, mutilation, maiming, forced ingestion of dangerous substances, or life threatening internal injuries.”

I bet after toxicology reports are completed, additional charges will most likely follow. For this 5 year old boy did not accidentally fall into a shit-filled septic tank. Some sociopath placed him inside. We could only hope Noah met his demise before he wound up inside the tank, and didn't drown in it. Hopefully that, and many other questions, will be answered. Was Noah's little body submerged for all five days as hundreds of concerned folks, traipsed nearby and searched for him? So close, and beyond, yet still in hearing distance of the tank, he never heard his name being called.

And who, or what, could be so evil as to place a 5 year old child in a septic tank? Certainly not a parent! That is what the community hopes. Surely, it had to be an accident. It's hard to admit it wasn't, because to most everyone with a heart, it's an unthinkable situation. But other than falling into in a terrible immediate family, it certainly looks as if Noah did not accidentally fall into anything else. Well, all the evidence is not presented, so we don't know yet if the child fell into someone's stash. If you watch "Shameless," you'll remember that happened to their dysfunctional family. As soon it was realized the child had ingested cocaine, he was brought to the emergency room. He survived, and the older sister went to jail. To their "credit," they didn't wait for him to die and then hide him. We don't know if that happened to Noah. All the public knows is that, according to the mother, he wandered off when she was napping. Let's see how long that story sticks.

These two parents, and I really hate using that word parent, didn't go the Susan Smith route, wailing in public, pointing fingers to fictitious folks. No, these two were silent from the start. What mother, what father, wouldn't be out in the media, begging for help for the return of their son? Probably only ones who knew he wasn't coming back. Every time I heard the sheriff say Noah's parents were cooperating fully I thought of Smith. So did she. Thankfully, the young infant who also lived in the home, was taken to a safer place the night Noah was reported missing. Clearly something was not right in that household.

Was it drugs? Ummmm, again, I don't know for sure, but damn, I'd sure bet it is. Take a look at their mug shots.

Look into those vacant eyes. Those are the eyes of self-absorbed addicts who don't give a shit about anything but themselves. Their drug of choice is more important to them than anything else, even their children.

I am so angry that this beautiful boy was snatched away, even if it was from a hopeless life. To all those people who say over and over again, "He's in a better place now" I say, he didn't have to die to be in a better place. He could have been placed with another family who would have loved him more than anything else. I know of too many parents who have lost a child, and would do anything, anything, to have that child back. I know of too many couples who want a child, more than anything, anything, yet they are unable to conceive. I'm sure they would have welcomed this little boy, yet they, many other loving couples, and especially, young Noah, were never given the opportunity. Tragic.

If any "good" could come from this heart-breaking case, I hope it will help open the eyes of men and women to recognize an abused child, or one living in a dangerous household. Know the signs, and rather than turn a blind eye, make that call to get that child safe before something tragic happens to them too. Never underestimate the power of drugs, and the damage done by them, and poor parenting.

Rest in peace, Noah Thomas...Gone, but you will never be forgotten.

"It's the greatest poverty to decide that a child must die so that you may live as you wish."

- Mother Theresa

Identity Theft - Tricks of the Trade

There was a time when you knew you were the victim of a crime. A broken down door to your home, or a smashed-in windshield to your car could be the first signs. A quick inventory of what's missing and it's off to the police. There's usually a very slim chance of actually recovering anything. Time is of the essence, for every day that ticks away more sets of dirty hands have touched your goods, burying the trail. At least with a burglar's brazen entry, you are able to look around, know what is gone and after the police do nothing about it, report it to your insurance agent.

With the crime of identity theft you're not afforded that luxury. It could take months or even years for you to realize that you're a victim. By the time you have figured it out, the damage could be extensive. It will take many hours and many dollars to reclaim yourself. It's a daunting and discouraging task with very little, if any, punishment meted out to the stealthy thief. So, the best thing someone can do is try and prevent identify theft from happening.

From "Reader's Digest" - 13 Things An Identity Thief Won't Tell You.

1. Watch your back. In line at the grocery store, I’ll hold my phone like I’m looking at the screen and snap your card as you’re using it. Next thing you know, I’m ordering things online—on your dime.

2. That red flag tells the mail carrier—and me—that you have outgoing mail. And that can mean credit card numbers and checks I can reproduce.

3. Check your bank and credit card balances at least once a week. I can do a lot of damage in the 30 days between statements.

4. In Europe, credit cards have an embedded chip and require a PIN, which makes them a lot harder to hack. Here, I can duplicate the magnetic stripe technology with a $50 machine.

5. If a bill doesn’t show up when it’s supposed to, don’t breathe a sigh of relief. Start to wonder if your mail has been stolen.

6. That’s me driving through your neighborhood at 3 a.m. on trash day. I fill my trunk with bags of garbage from different houses, then sort later.

7. You throw away the darnedest things—preapproved credit card applications, old bills, expired credit cards, checking account deposit slips, and crumpled-up job or loan applications with all your personal information.

8. If you see something that looks like it doesn’t belong on the ATM or sticks out from the card slot, walk away. That’s the skimmer I attached to capture your card information and PIN.

9. Why don’t more of you call 888-5-OPTOUT to stop banks from sending you preapproved credit offers? You’re making it way too easy for me.

10. I use your credit cards all the time, and I never get asked for ID. A helpful hint: I’d never use a credit card with a picture on it.

11. I can call the electric company, pose as you, and say, “Hey, I thought I paid this bill. I can’t remember—did I use my Visa or MasterCard? Can you read me back that number?” I have to be in character, but it’s unbelievable what they’ll tell me.

12. Thanks for using your debit card instead of your credit card. Hackers are constantly breaking into retail databases, and debit cards give me direct access to your banking account.

13. Love that new credit card that showed up in your mailbox. If I can’t talk someone at your bank into activating it (and I usually can), I write down the number and put it back. After you’ve activated the card, I start using it.

And if that wasn't enough, here's 13 more...

1. My least-favorite credit card? American Express, because it likes to ask me for your zip code.

2. Your unlocked mailbox is a gold mine. I can steal your account numbers, use the convenience checks that come with your credit card statement, and send in pre-approved credit offers to get a card in your name. Stealing mail is easy. Sometimes, I act like I’m delivering flyers. Other times, I just stand there and riffle through it. If I don’t look suspicious, your neighbors just think I’m a friend picking up your mail.

3. Even with all the new technology, most of us still steal your information the old-fashioned way: by swiping your wallet or purse, going through your mail, or Dumpster diving.

4. I dig through Dumpsters in broad daylight. If anyone asks (and no one does), I just say my girlfriend lost her ring, or that I may have thrown my keys away by mistake.

5. One time I was on the run and needed a new identity so I went through a hospital Dumpster and found a statement with a Puerto Rican Social Security number for a Manuel Rivera. For a good two years after that, I was Manuel Rivera. I had his name on my apartment, on my paychecks and, of course, on my credit cards.

6. Is your Social Security number on your driver’s license or your checks, or is it your account number for your health insurance? Dumb move.

7. When I send out e-mails “phishing” for personal information by posing as a bank or online merchant, I often target AOL customers. They just seem less computer literate—and more likely (I hope) to fall for my schemes.

8. I never use my home computer to buy something with a credit card that’s not mine. That’s why you can often find me at the public library.

9. If you use the same ATM every time, you’re a lot more likely to notice if something changes on the machine, like the skimmer I installed.

10. Sometimes I pose as a salesman and go into a small office. After I make my pitch, I ask the secretary to make me a copy. Since most women leave their purses on the floor by their chairs, as soon as they leave the room, I grab their wallet. I also check the top and bottom right-hand drawers of their desks, where I often find company checks.

11. How much is your information worth? I can buy stolen account information—your name, address, credit card number, and more—for $10 to $50 per account from hackers who advertise on more than a dozen black market web sites.

12. Hey, thanks for writing your PIN number on that little slip of paper in your wallet. I feel like I just won the lottery.

13. Sure, it may be nice not to have to put in your password when you use an unsecured Wi-Fi connection. But know this: We have software that can scoop up all the data your computer transmits, including your passwords and other sensitive information.

A Friend of a Friend is No Friend

My daughter's face was ashen when she revealed to me last night that the murderer of a local 18 year old girl had tried to get her to meet him in person three weeks ago. No, she didn't know him but he was on her Facebook friends list, a "friend of a friend" that she had accepted. Three weeks ago the killer sent my daughter a personal message that "gave her the creeps." Thank God she ignored it and promptly deleted him from her "friends." But what if she hadn't? What if her sixth sense hadn't kicked in, or he wasn't "creepy" but "good looking" and she would have struck up a conversation, or worse, met him in person? What if this person tracked my daughter down, stalked her and then kidnapped her? What if this person was the one ringing our doorbell at all ours and then hiding? What if? What if? What if? I get sick to my stomach just thinking about all the "what ifs." Would our family be forever changed and inconsolable as I'm sure the victim's family are?

Clearly this person had "problems" as evidenced by a comment left on WSLS's site..."i did know shane and he was truely a sick person..he used to tell me all the time he was going to kill someone but i never believed he would actually do something like this…". No one ever thinks something like this would happen in a small town like Roanoke, but I do. I learned quickly years ago that small towns have plenty of psychos living amongst us. When I put my Roanoke zip code in Virginia's registered sex offenders crime base I was horrified to see how many were living right under our noses. When I put my Brooklyn zip code in NY's registered sex offenders, zero came up. There are way more people living in my Brooklyn zip code than my Virginia one. If you need more proof that there are more "weirdos" here take a stroll any night through the Salem Fair. It's scary, and that's why I wouldn't let my daughter go alone with her friends.

When my husband found out the killer had contacted my daughter via Facebook he held her hand tightly as we crossed the parking lot to the restaurant. He wanted to pull the computer away from her. He wanted to chain her to her room. He got up all through the night to check on her. He told her he was taking her up to Potts Mountain to learn how to shoot. I told him to calm down. The girl had done the right thing, this time, and we just had to reinforce all the dangers lurking out there.

Facebook is not your friend. Friends of friends are not your friends. Having 500, 600 or 1,000 friends does not make you popular. It makes you vulnerable. When I first signed on I just accepted anyone who asked me to be their friend. Eventually I realized that was foolish so deleted many. Now I've even gone back and anyone that I don't have some sort of connection to I've deleted. I've gotten requests from people other states that I have no idea who they are other than a common friend of my daughter. When I show her the people and she says she has no idea who they are, I've ignored them. Now I want her to delete them from her friends list. I told her to go through her list and begin deleting people she doesn't know. Just being a friend of a friend doesn't mean they're your friends.

I don't know yet what the connection was between the killer and Cara, but my story should serve as a wake-up call to all parents of teenaged daughters. Hold your babies tight no matter how old they are. Condolences go out to Cara's family. I can't imagine what they're going through right now.

Home Invasions in Roanoke

A couple of weeks ago I had blogged about my fear that we were being targeted for home invasion after someone rang our bell at 4:40am during a stormy night. The following day after I found more evidence of an attempted break-in I called the police back and blogged about that experience. The police poo-poohed my home invasion theory and blamed the 4:40am disturbance on "just kids." A report was never filed. I did let all my neighbors know what we had experienced so they could be put on guard. We would have to protect ourselves since the police did not take us seriously.

Since that "just kids" night, there have been two other documented home invasions. Successful home invasions. One took place in Vinton and the other in Roanoke County just two days ago.

"Detectives are investigating whether the crimes are linked, said Roanoke County Lt. Chuck Mason. The victims of Sunday's crime were targeted by the assailants, not chosen at random, said Mason. He wouldn't elaborate."

One would assume the police know more than they are letting on and that's why they keep insisting the homes were not random targets. Or, are they just making that assumption and saying that to keep the neighbors feeling safe? Both times there were multiple invaders with weapons. Targeted or not, it's scary. Is that why the cops didn't take my report seriously because my scenario didn't fit their preconceived notions of "home invaders know their victims." I don't buy that for a minute. If the house looks like it's an easy score maybe that's all it takes to be "targeted." I believe our potential invaders were multiple as well, and armed with weapons, just based on the brazenness. Thankfully we are armed as well and our home invasion was not successful. We know enough you don't answer the door at that time of night. Others who don't, and probably never even thought about it, could find themselves in the same predicament as these recent victims. Since that Sunday night we've become more aware of our surroundings. I don't like living on edge, but I don't want to be a statistic either.

By the way, how come there hasn't been more news covering the first home invasion in Vinton? I've written on our local newspaper blogs and have asked that question and gotten no response. Am I the only one who feels Roanoke has a crime problem and wants to know what's going on? This reminds me of Roanoke's mantra, "We don't have gangs." Pfffft. If they say it does it make it so? I think people are in denial, even the police with their assumptions that a home invasion means the people who are being invaded are in some way connected with the criminals. Thinking like that is harmful to the citizens of Roanoke. I know all these localities want to say crime has gone down, but under-reporting by not taking a report does not support that claim and is definitely not prudent. If people knew there was potential real danger out there they could protect themselves better. Putting our heads in the sand saying, "This is Roanoke, things like that don't happen here" is naive and dangerous. Wake up Roanoke...

The Chimes, The Chimes

It's damn hard work trying to keep your family safe. This week has pretty much been a bust as far as productivity is concerned, unless keeping us alive is considered productive. In typical over-reacting fashion I went all out in making my home a safe compound. My son said all we need now is the moat and crocodile. I won't reveal all the purchases or details but will say one of the cheaper devices has proven to be the most effective, and most annoying, one.

I bought a driveway alert system which consists of a receiver and monitor that emits a loud bell chime whenever the receiver's beam is broken. I didn't set it up in my driveway but have it hidden strategically somewhere else. It seems it works too well -- the beam must travel pretty far -- and was even able to pick up deer who like to graze throughout the night at 3, 4 and 5:00am.

The first time it chimed out, my husband and I bolted out of bed, "It's go time!" grabbing our loaded protection and phone with 9-1- already pressed just waiting to enter the last 1. Neither of us even bothered to put pajamas on, just for this reason. The adrenaline was rushing and for a moment I wondered if I really would be able to pull a trigger on something other than a bulls eye or paper target. When the chime rang again I decided if I had to I could.

We flicked the surveillance cameras on and did a sweep. There was no one there. We still weren't stupid enough to go outside and look but felt it could have been four-legged animals instead of two setting the alarm off. Every time we'd settle back down, off it would go again. I felt like I was inside JC Penney's fitting room during a clearance sale. Even if I wanted to go back to sleep it was impossible, too much adrenaline. Watching the monitors was a little more interesting than watching "Launch My Line."

Once dawn broke my husband went outside and saw the fig tree had been eaten down. There was also deer poo nearby so I'm assuming that's who our visitor was Tuesday night. Everyone left and I decided no matter how tired I was I needed to ride the bicycle and get back on track. I was only on 15:00 when the chimes starting in again, persistent, not just once or twice, but like a stampede out of that fitting room. WTF? I ran upstairs, and turned the monitor on and saw two men standing outside my door. I ran and got my .38 which I've now taken to calling Myrtle. I stood to the side of the door and asked, "Who's there?" loudly over the chimes. A man said his name was Henry and they were Jehovah Witnesses and wanted to share the Lord with me. I quickly opened the door and let them in. Pfffft! Yeah, right! I told them I wasn't interested. They turned and left. I sat down, and tried to calm down, but was too revved up. I put Myrtle down and just stared at it. The chimes started again, I picked Myrtle back up and for a second thought about blasting the thing. I felt like Quasimodo, only I was screaming, "The chimes, the chimes" while holding my head. I shut the monitor off.

Last night I went to sleep by 8:00pm. I slept straight through to midnight, that's four hours more than I've gotten since Sunday night. After figuring out a better place to set them up the chimes didn't ring last night, but my internal chime kept waking me up every hour, listening, just listening. I think I finally fell back at four and then overslept. I had forgotten to turn the alarm clock back on. When you're overtired you forget a lot of things, like how to be happy and how to smile. This is no fucking way to live.

Make My Day, Punk

So far, so good. Other than the raging wind, it was a quiet night here, although restless for me. I don't know if it's from growing up in Brooklyn, or growing up Italian, but there's one thing about me...I never get scared. When someone threatens me or my family something just kicks in, not fear, more like anger, and I bolt into protection mode. Not for a moment do I worry about getting hurt, but I do worry about what's gonna happen when I hurt the person or persons that are looking to hurt my family. My husband is the big tough guy, but I'm the one the bad guys have to worry about. Sicilian and Napoledon blood courses through my hot veins, need I say more?

If I sense danger I slip effortlessly into a state where logic takes over. Plans immediately formulate to protect us and thwart my enemies. I sit the kids down and tell them this is the way it might go down. No sugar coating here. I drill in them that we always fight to the end. We never give in, we never give up. We never believe that if we do something that evil wants, the evil will let us go. Evil never lets go. We never do what they want. Naturally we try and avoid trouble, but if trouble comes looking we don't run away. We confront. We outsmart. We win.

I've always told my kids that the worst thing they can allow happen is to get pulled into a car. If they do chances are very good they're going to die. They will never be let go, no matter what the criminal says. It's up to them to save themselves. Do whatever you have to do to not get in the car in the first place but if it happens, then the main goal is to get the hell out of the car.

At home, if someone comes to your house and tries to get inside in the middle of the night assume they have weapons. They are there to hurt you. If you let them in they will kill you. If they get in on their own they will kill you. Do not believe that if you give them what they want they will let you go. They will not. It's up to you to fight back. It's up to you to take them out. You do whatever you have to do but the main goal is to protect the family and defeat the evil.

I think we are prepared. I don't take for granted for a second that I live in a "good neighborhood." In these times evil takes over good, or at least tries. What the bad guys may not realize though is that in this house we don't roll over. We fight. We will win. And they will lose. C'mon punk, make my day.

You know what's the craziest thing about everything that's been happening lately...my freaking husband was actually right for a change...we need to protect ourselves...and that's what scares me the most.

On the brighter side...all my bitching to the cops complaining they're letting the neighborhood go to pot with all the grafitti that's been springing up apparently hit home. My kids told me they saw the tags being painted over yesterday. Good, that's a start.

Protecting Myself

So this morning when it got brighter out my husband came back to the house to give it another once over. He called me outside to show me that someone indeed was here. The foliage in front of my office window was trampled upon and the window box was pulled away from the window and hanging. I had about six inches of blinds pulled up so that anyone could look in and see my computer and other office like things right there. I got a really freaky feeling knowing that criminal eyes were looking into my home and devising a way to get inside while my children lay sleeping.

We called the police to come back so we could show them. The officer that came this time was from North county and not from around here. He didn't seem to take my concerns seriously at all. In fact when I would speak he seemed to almost ignore me and would answer my husband, and not me. I showed the box and told him I felt we were targeted for a home invasion. He said he didn't think that was the case as home invaders wouldn't ring the bell. They would just burst in. And home invasions have to do with drugs. And this is Roanoke. Uh, yeah this is Roanoke, and that's the only thing I agree with him on.

I think someone wanted to get into the house even though they knew we were home. There were three cars in the driveway and the tv had just shut off ten minutes before they rang the bell, so naturally they knew we were home. I think they wanted us to answer the door so they could push their way in. It doesn't matter that we don't do drugs, that's not the only reason someone invades someone's house. They were looking for money, duh! The cop totally pooh-poohed my theory and said the most he could give us was ten dollars! WTF? I don't money, I want protection, what the hell was that about? He said he wouldn't file a report but would make a note to increase patrols after midnight, and then he left.

I decided I would put my game camera in the window where I believe they tried to get in. My husband left. About a half hour later I thought I heard something but attributed it to the wind. Shortly thereafter I decided I would move the camera for now and place it looking out at my carport instead. When I picked it up I was surprised to see that a photo had already been taken. I looked out the window and saw that a portion of the window box was now on the ground! I quickly called my husband and asked if he had pulled on the box before he left. He didn't and ran right back over. Meanwhile I checked the photo which did take a shot at 10:39 but unfortunately it used the flash which caused the shot to be all white from the reflection through the glass. The perp doesn't know that though and I wouldn't be surprised if that's what scared him away.

Now I'm really creeped out. After my husband came back again we did another walk around the backyard and noticed that a portion of the crappy lattice fence was knocked down and flattened. We can't swear it happened last night because we haven't been back there with all the rain, but I don't like it. I'm devising a couple of traps, but most importantly, I'm listening to my husband and protecting myself. Good thing I got that permit. Scary times we live in...

Who's At My Door At 4:40am?

When your bell rings at 4:40am during a rainy dark night you just know it could be nothing good. When it happened to us last night my husband quickly put a pair of pants on as I cautioned him, "Do not open that door!" I reached for the shotgun and lay it next to me as I loaded my .38. Through the closed door, no one would answer my husband's question, "Who's there?" I pushed aside my blinds in the bedroom and saw there was no vehicle in my driveway, or out on the street. It was pitch black and pouring out there, and there was no way I was letting my husband go to check it out. I've seen Clockwork Orange and enough crime movies to know that once that door is opened even a crack, it could be pushed in quickly and a home invasion is inevitable. Instead I called the police.

It was a weird night to begin with. I was having a hard time falling and staying asleep. I kept hearing strange noises. I might have been a little spooked from earlier in the day when my daughter and dog heard "someone" come out of the spare room in the basement and walk to the laundry room. When I went to check, after she had screamed, I found no one. Even the dog heard something because he was checking on it before I got down the stairs, and he never goes into the laundry room. "The house is settling," I said, but that wasn't good enough for the girl so she ran upstairs.

Sunday nights are always tough to fall asleep to begin with, stemming from my earliest school days and the dread of Monday's arrival. Even the Benadryl didn't work last night and all the bangs and pings didn't help. I'm sure most of it was due to the heavy rain but the imagination works overtime during a sleepless night. Finally I decided I would just put the tv on and found a comedy, Naked Gun 2 1/2. I set the timer so the tv would turn off when it ended. I hoped I would be asleep by then. It ended at 4:30am and I did drift off to sleep. It was ten minutes after it ended and the house became dark when the doorbell rang. I wondered if someone was watching and waiting for all of the lights to go out of the house before they struck. I was dreaming of kissing a baby's foot when I was awoken. I looked at the clock and knew I was only asleep ten minutes and marvelled how I had gotten into a dream so quickly.

When the bell first rang I thought maybe it really didn't, but my husband woke up and the dog gave a, low grrrrrr! My bell has the habit of sticking in the on position and when it does there's a low hum in the hallway. The hum was there. The police arrived within ten minutes when I saw a flashlight hit my blinds. My husband went out to meet him. The cop never asked my husband who he was or for identification. That really bothered me. How did the cop know that it was my husband who called for help? Maybe my husband was the perp, who was pretending he was the home's resident, meanwhile me and my family were inside tied up. The cop never came inside either. I thought that was a major error in police protocol.

I checked the bell and sure enough it was stuck so someone had physically pushed it in. I mentioned to the cop that lately the neighborhood has become a victim of graffiti, such as gang tags that are springing up in great numbers behind the McDonald's down the corner. I've tried calling the leasing agent of the strip mall to request they be painted over but they never return my call. It started as one tag a couple of months ago and now there are too many to count. I agree with ex-mayor of NYC Guiliani who believed if you let the little things go like graffiti, the criminals think the neighborhood doesn't care and is rife for a takeover, so it's important to stop the crime immediately, no matter how small it may be. This is something that our neighborhood watch really needs to address at our next meeting.

Anyway, luckily there was no bad outcome, but I wonder if we were being "tested" to see how we could react. Would we be stupid enough to open the door a smidge to see who was there? Naturally I had the talk again with the kids about not opening the door, and my husband had the talk with me again about not keeping my gun loaded. This was the first time I had to load it quickly, and I didn't panic at all, but maybe he's right.

Today's going to be a typical lousy Monday...

****UPDATE*****

The Police are coming back...We found something...Someone did try to break into my house last night!