The police investigation appears ("appear" is the operative word here because no one is telling me anything) to be moving along. Since the burglary, we found out that two neighbors saw one of the perps (always wanted to use that word) running from the direction of our house. Another neighbor saw a small car in our driveway at the time this was all going down. Yesterday, I came home to an undercover officer sitting in a blacked out SUV, I assume watching the area. He would not speak to me after flashing me his badge.
Driving from pawn shop to pawn shop is cheaper than therapy. I assured my friend who went one morning with me to try to find my mom's ring that I realized that this was more therapy than a jewelry finding exhibition. She was glad to know that I had that self-knowledge.
Ryan and I, the eternal optimists, are still holding out that the police will find the perps with our loot hidden in their closet. Until then, I am repurchasing what is replaceable and working through saying goodbye to the ones that are not.