In December, 1997, I was visiting family in California. My thoughts at the time were reserved for the imminent birth of my second child and thus far away from my Puget Sound area home that was being blanketed with record snowfall.
Unfortunately, the snow that accumulated in my driveway for a week proved a tempting target for two roving meth addicts looking for empty houses. The tweakers loaded up their vehicle (and my car), and took everything. With apologies to Dr. Seuss, the twitchy grinches took more than just pop-guns and pantookas – the burglars found my gun safe, pulled …