scam or virus alert?

So, I got this weird e-mail...

   It has been drawn to our attention that one of your computers is at risk from a virus attack. Please
   remove all your personal data from all of your home computers and mobile devices.
   Also visit this url to rectify security problems
   https://bitly.com/
     -The Gmail Team

And it was "via" my OWN e-mail address.

 

I didn't even open it because I could read the first few words that g-mail shows you before you open it. Instead I had H come upstairs to see this weird message... H decided to alert g-mail that this virus alert (from myself) was spam... Except that he accidentally alerted g-mail that a different message in my in-box was spam.  I could tell that he had done it wrong, but he wouldn't let me sit at my own computer to see.  I was asking him, "Did you check the box by that virus alert?"  And he was saying that he had, but I was pretty sure that he hadn't.     Ha ha - You can just imagine the scene as us old-folks freak out about this new type of scam.

 

Then L comes up the stairs saying, "You got a spam message from yourself??  The only time I've seen that happen is when somebody leaves their e-mail open on sombebody else's computer!" 

 

Ha ha.  I'm not that slow.  I got the joke right away.  Well done...  We went for it - hook, line and sinker.  (Always log out of your e-mail).  But, seriously, L does not know how many times I have resisted the temptation on his e-mail.  Oh, I did once use his facebook to view all of his brother's posts and I left a message which made reference to my "secret identity" which L did not find at all funny.  I had to swear never to do that again.** 

And once I did add a very loving description of myself to a paper that L asked me to proofread for him.  I found it so hilarious that, as usual, I couldn't stop laughing.  It makes it hard to really do any practical jokes. 


** On my honor as a mother, I have always resisted the temptation to peruse L's  facebook when he leaves it open.  The most I have ever done is see the most recent messages (the ones he has left on the screen when he leaves the house with the page still open). 

In which L walks to the doctor's office full speed ahead

So today L had a doctor's appointment to get his HPV vaccine at 10 am.  The doctor's office is only about 10 blocks from our house and when we were ready to leave, I said we were walking. 

L: Why?
M:  Because I need the exercise.   
L:   But I already worked out today!  C'mon!...  I'm tired.  Why do we have to walk.  (keeps insisting)

The above conversation clearly isn't our exact  words;  I'm trying to convey that L is a bit on the confrontational side.  Plus he has some trouble with please and thank you.  This is something I've been trying to explain to L: the "catch more flies with honey" concept.  V is especially sensitive to L's tone and she responds to it with a complete unwillingness to make concessions, and that is not who she usually is...  That's not a complaint about V; in fact I'm grateful to her for keeping me aware.  It's hard to explain how easy it is to just stop noticing the tone except when it goes waaaay overboard, and I'd miss a chance to work on a life-lesson.

Back to today: I refused to drive.  and I told him that I wouldn't change my mind. 
L:   "You're showing me that you'll stick to your guns when faced with a reasonable request."
M:  "I'm showing you that I won't reward rude behavior."

So, L walks out the door full speed ahead calling over his shoulder, "Okay, let's go to the doctor's."
I was out the door 30 seconds later or so, but L was walking fast.  I managed to catch up to him at one stop light but then he pulled ahead again and I was 1/2 a block behind him the whole way.  I was getting that terrible stress-response laughter that I get and trying not to giggle so that I could conserve my oxygen... but, of course, there was something funny about it.

Anyway, in the doctor's office they asked us to stay for 15 minutes after the shot to make sure L wasn't going to have any reaction/dizziness especially since it turned out that he hadn't eaten any breakfast (Oops... maybe I should have driven, I was thinking).  Plus it was hot  hot  hot.  But when we left there, we were fine.  All was forgiven for everyone.  

I made him a lovely breakfast... cheese omelet, sliced potatoes heated in a bit of olive oil with salt and pepper and fresh garlic, whole wheat sour dough bread from the farmer's market, toasted with butter.   When I asked him if the food had been good, he was picking up the last crumbs... and he said, "Okay." 

I will continue to try to get the message to L: trite but true - a little manners go a long way.   He is a good kid but he has been blessed with the adolescent sense of (I'm stopping because it is just too complex to describe here).  You'll have to take my word for it that he can also be a doll.

And I really do need to do more exercise.  puff

WATCH cool movies

I went to a film festival in Brooklyn this weekend and it was really a blast.  Oh, plus it was free.  Very cool.  I took son L and met up with niece JB in the city and then son P met us at Prospect Park where the festival was held. 

Aren't you jealous?  Anyway, you can enjoy some of the fun by going to this link and watching the movies.  The entries for this film festival have to be under 7 minutes long and had to include a bridge... that's the way Tropfest keeps out random  entries: they want movies made for their competition. 

http://tropfest.com/ny/category/films/2013-finalists/

takes you to the FINALISTS (the movies that 20,000 people watched in the park that night). 

My personal favorite is Innocent creep.  Watch it.  I loved most of the rest of the finalists... ( Bridget made me laugh).  I wasn't as impressed with the winning film, Unlikely Maestro.  But I seriously urge you to take a look.

I apologize to JB and L for the lame picnic.  I took hamburgers ... except I forgot the buns, so we had to eat them in lettuce.  I baked delicious oatmeal cookies and I forgot to take those too.  Burp... Ug, I'm so full because I just finished off the oatmeal cookies for breakfast this morning.  I kid you not.  Seriously, though, there weren't too many left... maybe 5... Still, too many is too many and this explains why I'm feeling too foggy to write anymore.  Just watch the movies, kids, and go easy on the cookies.

PS Next year's entries have to include a KISS somewhere or somehow (read what I said above about bridge).  I seriously have an idea... I feel like I could make a movie.  You think?

Couldn't you have waited until 5:55 am?

L woke me up a few minutes after 5in the morning, "Mom, please come down to the kitchen."

Sigh... I am very suspicious.  Right away, I knew he was "sick" and, in my heart of hearts, I thought he was acting.  But I followed him down and discovered the mess. 

He had vomitted everywhere - disgusting, right?  But I am suspicious.  It didn't seem like the same food he'd been eating last night... Still, what was I going to do?  Taste it?  No, I cleaned it up and was kind and loving to L - but not effusive.  I was also disgusted by it.  I showered afterward.  (Even as one has doubts... cleaning up vomit is disgusting even to think about.  I bet reading about it is awful too.)

Anyway, about an hour later:  L is back in bed (zzzz) - and I have just started my work day... Have I mentioned how sleep deprived I've been?

Anyway, I turn on the laptop that L uses to write a few e-mails to students.  I had decided that I'd cancel office hours, so that I could leave later, because L was sick.  On the main screen of google chrome there's a tab that says recently viewed sites (or something to that effect).  I said, "huh..."  I put my cursor on it and among the recently viewed sites were two that had titles like this,  "How to fake sick to stay home from school.  With photos."  

Sigh... sigh sigh sigh.  I do love that kid.

It is tough being a mother.

P.S.  The vomit??  I suspect a can of soup.  And, what also made me a little suspicious is that the "mess" was in the perfect spot - the kitchen floor - no dirty walls, no dirty cabinets,no dirty rugs. 

PPS  Too tired to write about how I dealt with it.  Sigh

really?

couldn't come up with a better title... 

      After you read this post, say the title outloud; you should sound like Seth and Amy (SNL) except younger and hipper.  Maybe you'll sound like my older son who was the first person I ever noticed saying "really".  And, yes, I do know that nobody says "really?" like that anymore.

So, during my hubby's vacation     

we had this one fight where I lost it (not the fight, my mind).   In what I saw as a non-sequiter, he started with the old, "You always complain that I don't do anything around the house."  

That was enough to set me off.  I don't want to describe my drama queen performance.  Actually it was very PG-rated (no violence, nudity or profanity); I just went on and on along these lines: "No es justo", but I did it in the best hysterical operatic tradition of the pre-Stepford wife-robot swap.  ha ha ha.   I have just a vague recollection of either the movie or the book, so I'm using the comparison because I like it, not because it's valid.

But I digress.  Why was I all hysterical about the fairness of it all?  Because I had long since basically decided to just live with my hubby's lack of cooperation in the house.  He's old enough to retire and collect his social security, but he still has to work to sustain the family - main bread winner and all that.  He's also from a different generation and country, which shape his paradigm (although, I don't want to exaggerate this aspect) and, mainly, he just doesn't care much about these things... and that means he doesn't complain about or notice too many home-related things. 

So, H does very little around the house... and I accept this arrangement as a logicalish division of labor.  Thus, when he says, "You always complain that I don't do anything,"  how can I respond?
     a)  "You DON'T do anything, you #%*#@"... would just confirm his complaint and then he would go on and on about how he cooks dinner and takes care of dry-cleaning his work clothes... and he cleans the drain in the bathtub when it fills with hair.  I find that discussion so pointless and frustrating because... nevermind.
      b) "COMPLAIN??? You don't know the meaning of the word!"  ... that's just an impossible argument to settle because the mere act of becoming embroiled in this debate adds to my hubby's impression that I am constantly harping at him.

Sigh - double sigh - So, that day my response was just, "NO!  This isn't fair.  This wasn't what we were talking about.  I wasn't complaining.  This isn't fair.  This isn't fair!  yadda yadda yadda"  (Even capital letters wouldn't express my passion at that moment, so I didn't bother - just try to envision it).

But, here's the kicker... the really moment.  After my melt-down, I went to the basement, pulled myself together, and quickly came back and apologized, sincerely.  So, we went back to the conversation and it stayed very civil.  I probably tried to explain some of what I wrote here above.  H. had to go back to my supposed blindness to his real contribution to our household and, in spite of how I didn't want to go here, we got back to the topic of our relative contributions.   Our conversation ended when he said... are you ready for this?

He said, "Ask how many of your friends' husbands take care of their own laundry?"  When I replied something like, "All of them.  Trust me... "  hubby just kind of let the whole thing drop.  I think, in his heart of hearts, he knew what that sounded like.

Now, before you read the title of this post again, it's important to know my husband's definition of "laundry."  It means taking one's own work clothes to the dry cleaners and picking them up.  (You don't really have to know this next bit, but it does make it a bit funnier:  when I asked him to take on his own dry-cleaning about 5 years ago, he was shocked.  It was a heavy blow to him and I only got his collaboration by stubbornly sticking to my guns).  

 

Ahhhh, refreshing. . .

It is sooo hot.
    It is so hot that the other day as I was cleaning the kitchen I saw a jar of flax seed that somebody had left me when she moved away.  (V's mom) and I had a terrific idea for some relief from the heat.
You see, I noticed that below the English word "Flax seeds" on the label, it had the Spanish word, "Linaza." 
    Hmmmm.... Linaza, I thought to myself.  Didn't I used to see a refreshing linaza drink when I lived in Costa Rica?  I remember that it was a clear liquid with small black seeds floating in it.  I sincerely don't remember what it tasted like (did I ever try it?  Probably).  But, suddenly, a nice cool fresco de linaza sounded like it would really hit the spot.
    So, I took the flax seeds and boiled them for about three minutes (my instinctive"feel" for cooking led me to this technique rather than any actual research).
     Then I put ice in a glass and a touch of sugar and poured in my fresco... Flaxaide, anyone?

     What's this?  It's slimey.  Surely a little more water to thin it out and a little more sugar will do the trick!  Nope, it's still slimey; no, it's still disgusting.  Frugal me tried to drink it up - but I couldn't get down more than half the glass.
       Just then - - - a flash of memory... It wasn't fresco de linaza that I used to see in Costa Rica, it was fresco de HORCHATA. 
        Oh well, I think, maybe I can still use the slimey mixture for something... I pour some oatmeal in the mucous-like substance, oh, and some old raisins.  Maybe I could throw in an egg and try to cook it?  Breakfast????
       But, here's the clincher.

        A little while later I'm sitting next to my hubby and I tell him about the linaza; before I really give him any details - he says to me, "It's slimey isn't it?  In Colombia they use it as a laxative." 

     Ha HA HA HA - I was trying to get down a nice refreshing ice cold glass of laxative. 
Not to fear - I seem to have stopped myself before doing any damage.  I'm going to say that you'd probably have to be really desperate to drink enough of that stuff to have any effect.

    I threw out the mixture (sorry, world). 

She's a keeper

That's how my teenager described this girl he'd clicked with at the park last night in our town's Fourth of July celebration.  He went down with his friends.  H. and I didn't feel like leaving the house.  It was too hot.  What a change; every other year we've kind of gone just to keep an eye on our son.

Anyway, why is she a "keeper"?  Because she has watched all seven seasons of Buffy the Vampire Slayer.