13 hours ago
Saturday, September 18, 2010
The saga of the Santa Fe ristra thief.
For years we have had three ristras hanging in front of our house and buy fresh ones every year. Notice that the previous sentence used the past tense "had." As we were leaving for Indian Market a man stopped by our house. He said he was a ristra maker and would have some fresh ones for sale the next day. The ones we had were ready for the trash so this made me very happy. When we came home that day damned if he didn't steal them while we were gone. Suzanne was not happy. Coop was not happy.
Coop went to the Farmer's Market the next week and bought 3 new ristras. They were the most beautiful ones we have ever had. Tourists make a habit of taking photos of our house because of the ristras. The tourists were stopping to take photos again. Suzanne was happy. Coop was happy. The tourists were happy.
Three days later a thief took them while a woman was at the back door asking Coop for directions to someone's house. I haven't seen Coop this mad many times in all the years we've been married. He got in the car and saw the man walking down the bottom of the arroyo across the street. He had the ristras on a long pole so obviously it was a planned theft. Coop told him to get out of the arroyo and bring them to the car or he was a dead man. I'm sure he thought Coop had a gun. Thank goodness Coop didn't have one or he might have shot him.
Coop brought the ristras home and hung them with strong wire wound around the top. He took pliars and mashed the hooks so someone couldn't lift them off. Now our beautiful ristras were safe.
Suzanne was happy again. Coop was happy again. The tourists were taking photos again. Nice ending to the story, right? Well, it's not the end. A few nights later the SOB came back with wire cutters and stole the ristras again. He had to have come before or he wouldn't have known to bring tools.
Suzanne isn't happy. Coop isn't happy. The tourists aren't happy. The end.