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Q: How many days in a row can I eat pickles and canned chicken for my lunch?

A: Four... so far.

In Today's News

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No Charge

I got an email last night from my credit card company. The subject line read, “Action Needed: Please confirm you made this purchase.” The purchase in question was for an airline ticket, on Jet Blue. Anybody who knows me, as apparently my credit card company does, knows that I’m about as likely to purchase an airline ticket as I am to purchase dance lessons.

The email said that the purchase was declined, and down below, it asked if I recognized the purchase. There was a green button to click for “Yes”, and a Red button for “No”. I stared at this for a few minutes wondering if this email was in itself a scam, so I decided not to click either button. Instead, I called the credit card company, using the number on the back of my card.

When I called, I got the automated greeting and it asked me a series of questions, beginning with the last four digits of my account number and I had to punch the numbers in on the phone. Then it asked me for my zip code and then my date of birth. I punched in the various answers and eventually it asked me to to punch in the first three letters of my mom’s maiden name.

Obviously, at some point, I set this up as one of my security questions. The problem was, where all of the previous questions involved punching in numbers, this one involved punching in letters.

I’ve run into this once or twice before. When I answered something like this in the past, I didn't know whether I was supposed to press the phone buttons like I was texting, or if I was just supposed to press the button once if the letter was anywhere on it. Whatever I did before, I remembered I did it wrong. I just couldn't remember what it was that I did.

So, I went for the gold and just pressed each button once, and sure enough, I got kicked immediately into their Fraud Department. Apparently, they knew why I was calling.

After a minute or two on hold, due to the fact that each of their Fraud Representatives were busy helping other scam victims, a real person got on the line and asked me more security questions.

Once she was satisfied that I was who I said I was, we got down to the heart of the matter. Yes, somebody tried to purchase a plane ticket, and no, it wasn’t me. And no, my card wasn’t lost, so someone has my information- but not my card.

The Fraud Rep asked me about a few more recent purchases, running down a couple that I had just made. Fortunately, they were all ones that I recognized. I thought later that maybe someone smarter than myself would have denied those purchases too, but I’m not smarter than myself.

Originally, my account was going to get canceled and they would send out new cards- hopefully to arrive in the next three or four days. Maybe. I wasn’t particularly crazy about this idea.

This is the only credit card I own. Years ago, I also owned a Sears charge card. I must have gotten it through a promo, because I think I only used it once. I still carried it around in my wallet, though. Eventually it got brittle and cracked into pieces. I used to get threatening letters from Sears saying that they would cut off my credit if I didn’t use it- which I didn’t, so they did. Now I just get desperate emails from them asking me to buy SOMETHING.

Anyway, she agreed that I could still use this current card with a few stipulations. First, I could only use the card “in state”. This, to me, meant that the scammer was likely someone out of state- thus narrowing the potential suspects down to several billion people.

The other stipulation was that I could only use the card in “face to face” transactions.

“So, does this mean I can’t order anything online?”, I intelligently asked. “Yes, that's what it means.” she said, “That’s not a face to face transaction.” I wanted to ask her if I could buy gas, because technically, a gas pump is not a face. But then I thought that maybe now was not the right time to get into a further discussion of this "face-to-face" concept.

We finished our phone call and I started a list of all the accounts that I would now have to update once my new card arrived- places like Amazon, Express Scripts and others. And as I was making this list, I wondered which one of these trusted friends of mine had betrayed me-and which ones I was now going to hand over all of my updated information to, so that they could do it to me all over again.

When I got done making the list, I went online to look at all the things that I now couldn’t buy. Before this happened, I had no desire to do any online shopping at all. I had been "looking forward" to another typical night of doing nothing but sitting on the couch and listening to the paint peel.

But now, I felt constricted (restricted?). It was a lot like when you have to have a fasting lab the next day- where you can’t eat for an entire TWELVE HOURS starting the night before, and so you can only think about how much you want to be eating and how much you can't, and why does this have to happen to me and how come the whole world has it better than me, and why is life so unfair.

Actually, it was exactly like that.

So, after talking with Rachael and briefly to Jake, I sat on the couch and listened to the paint peel and thought about my hidden enemies and plotted how I could exact my revenge- pretty much like every other night. Also, like every other night, I gave up and went up to bed.

Somewhere around 11:45, a ringing awoke me from my deep sleep. After a few futile attempts of slapping away at my alarm clock, I realized that I should been slapping the phone.

I never get a call in the middle of the night and I never want to. It can only be bad news- or a mistake- or a telemarketer- all various forms of bad news.

It turned out that it was the same friendly Fraud Rep that I talked to before. Through my stupor, I understood her to ask me if I had just made an over nine hundred dollar purchase from Amazon.com. My heart raced. Did I get up during the night and uncontrollably start ordering stuff?  I was pretty sure the answer was "No". Maybe this call was a test. Maybe she was calling to see if I really knew what a "face to face transaction" was.

I told her that I hadn’t made this purchase, fairly sure that I was telling her the truth. I explained to her that I understood from our previous conversation that this would have qualified as a "NON-face to face transaction"- thus displaying my full grasp of the concept. I could smell the gold star.

She asked me a few more question, which I can’t remember. Then I stumbled back to bed, where I tossed and turned for quite some time.

As I lay there in bed, I felt a little bit violated, and not in a good way. I wondered about those purchases. How did they get my information? Who buys nine hundred dollars worth of stuff on someone else’s card? Did this guy have a list of stuff ahead of time, waiting for this opportunity, or was he just "stuffing his pants"? Maybe most importantly, since he was on my dime, was he paying full price or were these Lightning Deals?

Why not let some of these transactions go through, I wondered. I wouldn't pay for them, of course. But then they could have the FBI dress up as UPS men and deliver the merchandise and then catch the “perps” red handed. A near seamless plan, near as I could tell. I regretted not having come up with this plan when I was on the phone with the Fraud Rep. I'm sure it would have meant another gold star.

This morning, when I checked my email, I found I had one from Amazon.com. It was telling me that a suspicious account had been opened up using my credit card- which they have since closed and cancelled all pending orders.

I expected more phone calls today, but so far, there have been none.

Three more days to go until the new card gets here. Three more days. Until then, all I can do is wait.

I think about that plane ticket.

I wonder where that plane was going.

About Today

I am currently sitting in a small coffee shop in Northampton, waiting while Sam has some testing done. The reason I'm in this shop is because it is the only place I know of that’s close by which has free WiFi. Normally, when Sam has testing, I stay right there, but today, this testing was to be "one on one" and about four hours long.

I’m fine with waiting in the waiting room, but there were few magazines, and the ones they had were several years old. I didn’t think to bring a book. I only brought my tablet and when I asked the person doing the testing if they had a guest WiFi, she asked me what WiFi was. I didn't bother pursuing the question any further.

Current events- circa December 5th, 2011

I went around the corner to this coffee shop where, in order to not look like a WiFi freeloader, I ordered a coffee and a breakfast sandwich, one which, I didn’t realize, contained no meat.

The coffee shop is filled with a mixture of people. There are younger folks which I would describe as a mixture of hip and hip-ish. Most look to be college age. I say that, not only because this is a “college town” but many of them seem young- they walk briskly and smile often- indicating to me that their spirits have yet to be broken.

There are older people here too. These older people are people that I’m guessing are about my age. I say this partly because, like me, they clearly have no idea what hip really is, but unlike me, they seem to be struggling to appear like they have some clue

There are the women, with with their stiff, crispy looking skin- subjected to either too much time in a tanning salon or too much Botox or- some desperate combination of both. There are the men, some wearing sport jackets- as if that were still a normal thing. And there’s a guy wearing both a scarf and a fedora as if this were some kind of fashion statement that said something other than “ I look like a fool and I wish I were young.”

Over the speakers, the song “One” is playing. It sounds a little like Harry Nilsson, but it isn’t and the fact that I know who Harry Nilsson is but I don’t know who is singing this version, tells me I don’t belong here.

I finish my meatless sandwich and I’m thinking that it’s about time to move on. I’ve been sitting here on a stool, facing the the window, for far too long. Anytime I’ve happened to look outside and make eye contact with someone strolling by, they stop, look at me, look up at the sign- and then move on. It’s making me uncomfortable. I go back to my car and move it to another spot.

---

Hey Northampton, thank you for allowing me to park on the fourth floor of your parking garage, so I can walk all the way down to the street level, only to return and find that my entrance to the parking garage is blocked off, making me walk around the other side of the building to another entrance, where I walk up three flights of stairs and find that the ticket payment machine is blocked off, then walk back down the stairs to the ground level, where the other machine is located, then walk back up the stairs to the fourth floor to get my car.

It’s lucky that I’m not someone who has a bad knee or a back that was killing them. Otherwise, I might start to get a little frustrated.

Come back soon!

 ---

With Sam still at testing, I go to visit Mom for a little while. I have a really nice visit, but it felt funny driving away and leaving Sam behind. He had his cellphone and I made sure he had a strong signal before I left, but it felt like I was leaving one of the kids at school for the first time.

---

Sam finishes his testing and looks tired. He finished all the snacks that he and I packed before we left this morning. I talk a little with the woman doing the testing and she gives me a stack of papers to bring home and fill out.

Sam and I stop at Walmart on the way home- Sam’s suggestion. I suggest that he checks out the Yugioh cards and I pay for a few packs. We stop at the supermarket on the way home and Sam gets some chicken strips and french fries for a late lunch / early dinner.

Now, back at home, Sam eats and relaxes a little- checking out his Yugioh cards. I watch him for a while. He’s tired, but he doesn’t complain. I may not know what “hip” is, but I know what cool is. And Sam is a lot cooler than I will ever be.

The Falling Rain

This day started off chilly and raw. An intermittent rain has been falling since I left for work in the predawn darkness of the morning. I love the fall, but I forget about these parts. I forget how cold and raw the rain feels on mornings like this.

I don’t mind that the darkness intrudes longer into these mornings, but when these dark mornings are coated with a light rain, it can be downright depressing.

It always seems like a slow, steady rain can make a night- or in this case, a morning, seem even darker than it already is. Somehow, my headlights seem dimmer as they strain to light the way in front of me, but the headlights of the cars behind me seem so much brighter than usual.

I think it's going to be a long day.

More Reasons I Like the Fall

Picking fruit on a beautiful fall day and magically transforming it into delicious food. 

Rachael's work of art.

Our first apple pancake of the season.

Minor Update

Light posting this week. I've been juggling between two fairly major meetings involving Sam, and after last weekend, returning to my empty nest.

The Busy Weekend

I'm not going to say a lot about the weekend- even though I had a great time. I'm not going to talk about how nice it was to have the entire family together, and how a few short years ago, something like that was an everyday. It was special then, as it is now.

A friend at work asked me how the weekend was. I told him that I had a great time, and he asked me what I did. I went down the list. I told him about how I picked up Rachael on Thursday evening and took her grocery shopping and how, on Friday, we ran errands, including closing a pesky old bank account.

I told him about Jake and Lauren coming home and spending the night, both Friday and Saturday. I told him about Helaina being home on Saturday and Sunday and I ran down the usual Saturday errands that I ran with Sam. And I told him about the apple picking we all did. And I mentioned swinging by Mom's a couple of times.

My friend looked at me as if to say, "And... ?". I don't know whether it was because he was waiting for the "great " part, or what he was thinking.

I realized later that I never even mentioned the birthday party or going to the comic book store or any number of other things. But the details really don't matter. What matters is we had a chance to spend some time together, and, like always, that was really what made it so great.

Unanswered Questions

This was spotted on one of my trips to Dollar General with Sam. I have a few questions about this.

First of all, how does a company decide to go into the Glow-in-the-dark poop making business. Are there a bunch of board members sitting around the conference table, brainstorming over what their next great product should be? Did the idea start off as just regular poop and then, to make it “better”, someone came up with the high-five worthy idea of having it glow in the dark?

How does this get produced? Is each one squirted out of some machine over a conveyor belt thus making each one unique- like a snowflake. Or are they made from a mold? If they're made from a mold, they must have gone through some process of having to do mock-ups- each to be evaluated by those same board members.

I feel bad for that mold maker. It’s not his idea to be doing this. He’s just following orders. I hope he earns enough to be paying off his student loans from all of those years of art school he probably attended.

Do these things ever touch human hands? However these things are made, how do they get packaged? I picture poor, Chinese laborers sitting on either side of a conveyor belt, having to grab one glow-in-the-dark poop at a time and package it up. They must have a quota they have to meet. Do they get reprimanded for not bagging enough poops per minute? And how do these workers feel when they go home at night? What do they think about? I wonder if this could this cause them to think less of us as Americans.

At some point, salespeople have to get people to buy these things.
  Salesman, opening his briefcase: “Let me show you our latest line of poop.”
  Manager: “Not interested. I already have some on the racks.”
  Salesman: “Yes, but is it Glow-In-The-Dark Poop?
  Manager: “...Well, no… actually it isn’t. This sounds like a winner! Let’s start with a thousand units!”

The sad thing is, I don’t think these are selling at all. I took the above picture several months ago. When Sam and I went to the store the other day, it looked almost exactly the same. Perhaps it is the choking warning that is scaring people off, or perhaps it’s because the manufacturer has limited their market to people above the age of three. Maybe. But I think the problem is more basic than either of these reasons. I think there’s an inherent design flaw in this product.

While making a glow-in-the-dark version of pretty much anything is almost always a good idea, it seems to me it’s counter productive in this case. The whole idea of buying fake poop is not for the poop itself- it’s for the shock value of fooling someone into thinking it’s real poop. With fake, non-glowing poop, you can leave it on the floor next to a toilet, in someone’s lunch bag- pretty much anywhere, and the reactions are almost guaranteed to be hysterical.

But with this glow-in-the-dark version, I don’t think so. And here’s why.

When I first saw this, Sam and I were browsing through the store, not really looking for anything in particular. I was strolling along, looking at the various high quality items strewn across the shelves- and then I came upon this thing. For a second or two, I was standing there thinking “What the hell is this?” Then I noticed the label.

And this is the problem. I think the same thing would happen “out in the field”- especially with no label at all. In pretty much any situation that I can think of, people might stop when they see this thing sitting somewhere, but not because there was a poop where it didn’t belong (hilarious), but because they would be trying to figure out what they were looking at (not hilarious). Jokes are never funny if you have to explain them.

This, to me, is a giant faux pas by the fake poop industry. I’m guessing that all of this could have been avoided if the manufacturer had gone through a rigorous research & development process- like one of those tests where scientists and engineers sit in a darkened room on one side of a one-way mirror, while on the other side, a test subject is led into a sterile looking, white room- containing nothing but a table and a chair- and a lump of glow-in the-dark poop. I’m guessing that something like this never happened.

I feel kind of bad about it. There are a lot of people who put a lot of effort into getting this lump of glow-in-the-dark poop onto store shelves. And sadly, there are a lot of people whose livelihood depends on producing vast quantities of fake poop every day. But these things aren’t selling.

I picture this thing surviving long after mankind has disappeared.

---

The planet is desolate - long since ravaged by war and pollution. An alien probe lands and scratches at the dusty brown earth - digging through the rubble - searching for signs of life. Eventually, this is what it finds.

The specimen is gingerly picked up by the probe’s claw, and then bagged and taken to the alien home world, where it is probed and tested.

What happened to the specie that produced this? Were these beings intelligent? Were they killed by war? Perhaps it was it their diet. The questions remain unanswered.

Eventually, the specimen is sent to a museum where it is placed on a shelf, protected by a glass case. Accent lights shine down on the case and velvet ropes separate the artifact from the curious visitors. One by one the aliens shuffle by and study the foreign object. And one by one the aliens ask themselves, “What the hell am I looking at?”

A Touching Thing

When I sit on my couch, I can look to my left and see the computer, and I can look to the right and see the tv. In the evenings, while I’m on the couch, Sam is usually on the computer, with headphones on, watching anything from Disney cartoons to Loony Tunes to video game run-throughs.

I’m watching tv last night and Sam is watching his videos and a commercial comes on the TV. It’s a Geico Insurance commercial, the one where Kenny Rogers is sitting around playing cards and annoying the others by singing “The Gambler”.

“That’s a nice song”, Sam says from the other side of the room. He was turned around in his chair, facing the tv, with his headphone half off. “He’s a good singer”, he says.

“Yeah? You like that song?” I ask. And I tell him who it is and what the song was and Sam says, “Hmm, I might look that up.” But he goes upstairs and takes his shower.

A little while later, Sam’s back downstairs, in his bathrobe, back on the computer, eating some grapes. And I look over and I see that he’s watching “The Gambler” music video by Kenny Rogers and he’s kind of tapping his foot along with it as he’s popping grapes in his mouth. A few minutes later, I glance over again and I see he’s watching another Kenny Rogers video. A few minutes more go by and I hear Sam say, “Huh, I guess Kenny Rogers is retiring.”

I tell Sam that I had heard the same thing too, and I ask him where he heard it. Sam points at the computer and says, “I watched this video… and he said a touching thing.”

---

Epilogue

Sam's Videos: