A night to remember

So glad the week is over. I've been busy covering this terrible case, culminating with the funeral last night.

Not the first homicides I've covered, but the first involving children. Their faces have been haunting me, to the point that I specifically requested to cover the funeral, even though I knew it'd be tough with our evening deadline. I felt like it was the one little thing I could do -- write the best story I could to honor their memories.

Everyone there was touched -- media, church staff, funeral directors -- even if they hadn't known the family at all. I chatted with one of the funeral directors outside as he was taking a smoke break. He was probably in his mid-60s. "I've done a ton of these, but this is the worst," he told me with tears in his eyes. "I had to come out here to get away for a minute. I mean, they were just babies."

So, so hard to approach people who are grieving and ask for interviews. Luckily, some people came to me when they saw my notebook, and others I'd met before and had built a rapport to the extent that I felt comfortable asking them to comment.

One man commented that it must be a hard case to write about. I told him the worst part was the story I wrote when the autopsy report came out, spelling out how they had been killed. I said, "That's the kind of story no reporter ever wants to write, and it's the kind of story no one wants to read." He told me that I had done a good job with the story, and that I had treated the subjects with respect. His words meant a lot to me.

I left the funeral mass around 8, after the bishop had finished the homily, and ran out to my car to finish my story on my laptop and send it in by about 8:20. Then back to the office for some last-minute revisions, and on the road for home by 9.

I called home to talk with my dad, about the funeral, Christmas presents. Thanked God for what I have.

Shane came over, and I subjected him to "It's a Wonderful Life," which always makes me feel better. But later, I still dreamed about their faces.

Anyway -- so glad it's over, at least for now.

On to happier subjects -- Christmas poems about Spain, for instance. (If I was a publisher, you'd have had a book deal long ago, my friend!)

And need to head out to the grocery store. Had to stop at the gas station last night after work for bread and cheese, so I could at least have a grilled cheese sandwich and tomato soup (my favorite comfort food) for a late dinner. I wasn't really hungry, but Shane made me eat. I tend to forget to eat sometimes!

And need to do some last-minute Christmas shopping. But wait, you ask, didn't you do all your shopping a couple weeks ago? You are correct -- but I've got to grab a couple things for my mom, from my dad. Poor guy has the worst problems getting gifts. Last night, he told me, "I was going to buy your mom some nail polish, but I couldn't remember what kind she likes. I stood in the store staring at the nail polish for 10 minutes. There's so many kinds!"

My mom has, for my entire life, used only Revlon crystalline nail polish in shades of red and pink. She keeps the nail polish collection in a cabinet in the bathroom, in plain sight.

Tonight is the family Christmas party for my dad's side of the family. He was the 9th of 10 children. All his siblings have grandchildren (and some, even great grandchildren) by now, but my sister, brother and I continue to hold out. It's one of my favorite things, ever. Well, when you get down to it, Christmas is one of my favorite things, ever.

Tragedy, and a brush with greatness

It was a long, long workday yesterday, because of this. I didn't write the main story, but was called in because I can speak some (rusty) Spanish, and ended up writing a couple sidebars. Such a terrible tragedy.

And what a way for Fort Wayne to get national attention. About 11:30 a.m. yesterday, after we had posted our first story on the web about the crimes, I got a telephone call:

"Hi, this is Mike So-and-so. I'm stringing for the New York Times, and I just need to know if you guys have any updates to what you're running on the wire." [In newspaper-speak, that means he's freelancing and wants to know if there's new news.]

Me: "Actually, our reporter is still at the scene, and I only have a secondary role in this. I've heard some unconfirmed rumors but I don't feel comfortable releasing any information at this point. Our metro editor is in a meeting right now, but he'll be done in a few minutes. Can I put you through to his voicemail?"

Mike: [irritated and haughty] "Is that the best you can do? I mean, we are talking about tomorrow's New York Times, here."

Well, kiss my ass, Mike. You're only a stringer, anyway! Get a real job!

Mike injected a much-needed bit of humor into the newsroom when I shared with the other reporters who were working. We kept quoting throughout the day: "We are talking about tomorrow's New York Times, here."

Snow day!

Well, my car was indeed buried under about twice as much snow as it is in the photo below when I woke a little bit ago. Ugh. But I can't bring myself to hate it, because it's so pretty!

But don't expect a photo of all that snow, because when I looked outside again about five minutes later, my boyfriend had stopped on his way to work and was cleaning off all the snow for me. I knocked on the window and he looked up. "I hate snow," he said, and even though I hadn't been able to pry the frozen window open, I could distinctly hear him. I probably should have gone outside to help, but I was still in my PJs and fuzzy from sleep. He looked like a Midwestern eskimo, in his heavy boots and winter coat, hood pulled up over his Notre Dame ski hat. Sure is going to be nice not to have to clean my car. :-D

(Thus ends my "I have the greatest boyfriend ever" post. Every girl blogger is entitled to one now and then!)

Outside the snow is falling...

While we're on the subject of Christmas kitsch, I bring you this -- my very own "bad Nativity."

Yes, this lovely Nativity set was given to me by my garage-sale-loving grandmother, who was shocked and saddened to learn during my sophomore year of college that I didn't have a little Nativity set in my dorm room. It sits about three inches high. Some features you may find interesting, that don't show in the photo... there is black glitter on the roof and around the manger, presumably to emulate the lumps of coal that fell from the sky the night Jesus was born... and there is a small hole in the back near the roof, in case you want to further illuminate its beauty. Ah yes, and the bottom says "MADE IN HONG KONG." However, I love my grandma dearly, and I can't find it in my heart to part with my miniature holy family.

Apparently tacky decorations we're on my mind today, because while out driving this afternoon on assignment, I felt compelled to snap a shot of this beauty:

Because nothing says "Have a blessed Christmas season" quite like a 6'+ inflatable Homer Claus and tree.It could be worse -- it could be the Virgin Marge and Homer and the blessed Savior Bart. Seriously, I know people who would put that in their front yards.

In other news, it's snowing! I love the first winter storm of the season, when everyone panics and the weather reporters are all "Oh my god batten down the hatches it's going to be the biggest blizzard ever stay inside buy plenty of food and candles and water and batteries and DVDs." Good lord, people, get a grip. We're expected to get 3-7 inches tonight. This was the scene when I got off work tonight around 7:


Indeed, snowy, but hardly a white-out. Although I've only been in my cozy apartment about 4 hours, and already I'm not looking forward to shoveling off my car in the morning. Oh, how I envy those bourgeois and their garages. The current view out my 2nd-story window:


Crap. Man, I miss college. Right about now, we'd be headed to Province Park for some sledding action. Highlights: Jake sledding into the frozen creek (he was fine, just wet and very, very cold)... teaching Zeeshan (our Pakistani pal) the art of sledding... shooting Jackass-style videos -- I don't think I like being a grown-up!

A link-ful post

First, let's just get this out of the way: It's THREE degrees outside. But that's good for you folks, because it means the longer I stay in my nice cozy apartment typing, the longer I don't have to go outside and get frostbitten.

As originally seen on NancyNall.com, and later in my forwarded e-mail to friends and family who I thought would find it amusing, not offensive, I bring you: A "kitchilicious" Christmas, as Sal dubbed it.

Speaking of Sal, he's helpfully provided this link for your further enjoyment.

My three (or is it four, now?) readers may have noticed my lack of blogging lately. It's not because I hate you all. I've been busy.

Last week, it was this: The Nutcracker. My boyfriend's mother invited me to see the show at the gorgeous Embassy Theatre in Fort Wayne. Her friend's daughter was one of the children who had been invited to dance with the Moscow Ballet for the Fort Wayne show. I was really excited, because I've always loved ballet, but had never seen the Nutcracker before except on TV. (I'd only been to one ballet -- Sleeping Beauty.)

The show was really beautiful, although I've always found the storyline of the Nutcracker to be a little trippy. My favorite part of the experience was seeing all the little girls who had come to watch, all dressed up, and especially the little girls who were dancing. It took me back to my days as a hopeful ballerina (about ages 7 - 11)... before I realized I had no coordination at all. Just as well, because I'm just slightly too tall to dance with a partner anyway. Alas. I went on from the ballerina years to have a distinguished softball career of about four seasons as a right-fielder. (Where my sister, the pitcher, would always catch me pirouetting in the outfield.) But I digress.

Anyway, the ballet was nice, and the boyfriend's mom gave me a nutcracker to remember the occasion. All together now -- Aww. :) As soon as those male dancers came out in their white tights and pink shirts, we were very grateful we'd left our manly, football-watching men at home. (Although not as grateful, probably, as the men were!)

In other news -- my Christmas shopping is almost done! OK, I'd understand if you hate me now, but in my defense, let me just say that it wasn't easy. I knew I didn't have much free time before the holiday, so when I realized I had nothing to do this Sunday afternoon, I had to jump on the opportunity. There aren't many good shopping opportunities in our small town, so I knew I'd have to make the 20-minute journey through the snow to the metropolis of strip malls that is Fort Wayne.

I descended on the mall around 2 p.m. with a sort of blitzkrieg strategy -- i.e., speed is of the essence, take no prisoners. For the first 20 minutes, I hit about five stores, walking away from all empty-handed. (Frankly, I felt like a big loser, walking around the mall with no shopping bags. Everyone else had them!) But soon my luck changed and by the time I left the mall, I had shopping bags from 8 stores... had already made one exchange (found something better)... and it'd only been two hours. Onward to Dick's Sporting Goods across the street, where I was looking for a particular item requested by my brother. Unfortunately the not-so-helpful Dick's didn't have it in his size, but they told me the Dick's on the other side of town did. Now 4:30 p.m.

This is where things got a little tricky, as I was supposed to stop by the office in downtown Fort Wayne at 6 to drop off my laptop for software updates, and then meet boyfriend and his family a few blocks away for his little brother's holiday concert at 7. There were still a few crucial items on my list that I wanted to get before I left Fort Wayne. First stop, Borders. You have to understand, I've never, NEVER, been able to dash into a Borders, or any bookstore, and not browse, just a little. But I was a woman on a mission. I saw the book I needed on the second table in the store, and made a beeline for the nearest cashier with my blinders on. Mission accomplished; time, approximately 4:45. Next mission -- returning a purchase made a couple weeks earlier to Target, down the street, pick up some wrapping paper and other items. Mission accomplished, time, approximately 5 p.m.

I made the 15-min. trip to the southside (OK, Jefferson Blvd.) Dick's, which had said it would hold my brother's gift for 48 hours. Got there, and the four (FOUR!) cashiers who were standing around doing nothing were like, "Uh, we don't have one on hold... uh... we can't find it... uh." Son of a... Finally, I gave up on the customer service desk and marched over to the section of the store that sold what I was looking for... and there was an entire rack of them. Hell-O! Idiots.

I had time to grab some dinner (Arby's) and head to the office, where they told me they weren't ready for my upgrades, but I could leave my laptop there, which I did, after wolfing down my dinner. Now I had 45 minutes before I needed to meet the Boyfriend & Co., so I headed to the nearest grocery store and actually got my grocery shopping done as well. And was early to the Christmas concert.

Now THAT is what I call an afternoon of shopping. The Christmas list is nearly wiped out... the checkbook is still in the black... and I have blisters on my feet. I challenge any of you to try and top my success. ;)

Anyway... that was a really long story with no particular point, I know, but I was (and remain) immensely proud of myself. Gotta get ready for work now! (Late start today, because I have to cover City Council tonight... aren't you jealous of my exciting life?)

* Sidenote, to anyone who's from "around here" -- remember when they had the ice skating rink in Glenbrook Mall? I miss that! :(