Monday, May 20, 2013


 Saturday afternoon, I roasted some chickens.  Nothing special...just stuffed them with fresh herbs and lemon and let them roast in a really hot oven for a little over an hour.  It was just an ordinary, that guy that I like so much and our two cats in our little house on our little street.

There was supposed to be another here with us, but at the last minute Brian was invited over to a friends for dinner and since it was a Saturday, I said yes.  I cut up the chickens and served them along with some roasted potatoes and roasted cauliflower and broccoli.  We sat in the garden and shared a bottle of wine.

And all was peaceful.

Our boy in the middle was at an all day concert and kept sending us fun pictures throughout the afternoon.  I love how happy he is.  And I'm not supposed to say nuthin'...but isn't she beautiful?


Anyway, in the midst of my happy place, our neighbors came over and my happy place became even happier.  I fed them the remnants of our supper and we were laughing and telling stories and just having a really nice time in the garden.

And then, in true Busch form, a story decided to bloom.

Matthew begins to text me, telling me he's in the back of a police car.  I, of course,  don't believe him, until the pictures start coming.  Turns out he really was in the back of police car.

My oldest.  The easy one.  In a police car.


My son was in the book store on Friday night and came out just in time to see a guy in a hooded sweatshirt jump into his car and take off.  

The car that was stolen (and found again) 5 weeks ago.  The car that is, quite obviously, one of the most stolen cars in America.  The car that we chose, because we are cheap, to not install a kill switch in when it was recovered last time.  The car that Matthew, who was standing in the parking lot with the keys in his hand, watched being driven away.

Here. We. Go. Again.

He called 911 and they responded immediately.  They have it on surveillance video from the store's parking lot.  They spotted it with helicopters on the freeway before losing it.  They told him that if the car is recovered (which they highly doubt will happen) to sell it and buy something else.

And then they offered him a ride home, which he the back of the cop car, where he proceeded to document via social media.  Gotta love him.

So tomorrow morning at 9:00am,  I will be on the phone to the insurance company to tell them the same car was stolen AGAIN.  Think they'll believe me????

Instead of dwelling on it, we...ummmm....had cocktails.  A few of them.  


So this morning, just like we did a month ago, we drove to where Matthew lives to drop off our extra car.  It's almost funny...but then again it's not.  I mean, it's just a car...but how many people have the same car stolen twice????

My family, that's who.

I'll let you know how this one pans out, but I'm telling you this....if it turns up in the impound in Fontana, I'm NOT going to pick it up.  Juan or no's NOT happening.  


  1. This comment has been removed by the author.

  2. That's pretty incredible and what a coincidence that the same car was stolen twice. I'm glad your son is okay. Kudos for the fabulous attitude considering how frustrating that might be to many!

    Sorry about having to delete the previous original comment. Apparently I need more coffee so I can spell better. ;)


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