Fourteen

If the point of this blog is to share what is going on in our lives, I'd be remiss not to mention what happened last Wednesday. Around 5 AM Pacific Time, while my stepfather was working the graveyard shift at the 7-Eleven, he was robbed, and shot in the face.

Thank God, he survived. He was actually discharged from the ER only hours after being admitted, with stitches and a fist-full of prescriptions. Luckily, Bill had his head tilted back, so the bullet skimmed across his forehead. Of course, with a face full of blood, the robber still made him empty the cash register. And then Bill was able to call 911 for help.

I won't write a screed on handguns, or how my old neighborhood continues to go downhill. I won't snark about how Bill had been working graves four weeks straight because my parents have an obsessive compulsion with running that store.

I just hope that guy enjoyed the burger he bought with fourteen blood-smeared dollars.