Swipe, Steal, and Start Over

You know what’s fun? Having your credit card number stolen.

Nothing says "living my best life on a Saturday" like a notification from the fraud department asking, “Did you just spend $647 at a tractor supply store in Florida?” (No. No, I did not. But I hope the thief enjoys their new John Deere.)

And just like that—poof—my trusty card is canceled. Goodbye, dear friend who paid for my groceries, subscriptions, take out food and occasional late-night Amazon purchases. You will be replaced by a brand-new card with a new number and none of my digital baggage. A clean slate… that I did not ask for. As well as my two family members who share my Amazon Visa as well. I even have to add the card into 1Password.

Some credit cards (not mine) allow you to have a separate card number for each purchase so if it does get intercepted, it is unusable.

Now begins the scavenger hunt. I must:Remember every place I have autopay set up. Many I have to wait until they tell me my card isn't working because I don't remember annual subscriptions. It seems like every 2-3 years one of my three credit cards get used by thieves.
Log in to accounts I haven’t visited since the Obama administration.
Reset autopay then save them in my password manager. Again.
Verify my identity using a code sent to my email. Or phone. Or other annoying way where I have to have two devices by my side.
Re-enter my new card number while muttering a few creative phrases under my breath. Thankfully I am a master at cut and paste (usually).

Netflix, Amazon, Hulu, Spotify, electric bill, other credit card auto pay, the neighborhood association dues, etc. ALL need updating. Every. Single. One.

And of course, some websites make it easy. Others seem to want a DNA sample and a letter from my 3rd grade teacher before they’ll accept my new card.

I didn’t ask to be part of this game. I didn’t lose my card. I didn’t even leave it at a restaurant. Someone just decided my digits looked tasty and went shopping.

What’s awkward about aging isn’t the tech, or the passwords, or even remembering which streaming service carries The Great British Bake Off. It’s that the older I get, the more often I’m left holding the bag—for someone else’s bad behavior.

But I’ll get through it. One autofill at a time. Persistence it is.

Growing Up Broke and Blissfully Unaware

I grew up with five siblings, one bathroom, a septic tank, and zero awareness that we were “poor.”
We had one car, and my dad — a hardworking carpenter in Ohio — took it to work. That is, when there was work. Winters often meant layoffs or side gigs to make ends meet. But we didn’t mope. We made do. And we made memories.

We were a house full of kids — four brothers and one sister. We didn’t fight over money because there wasn’t any. We fought over space, Kool-Aid, and who got the good spot in front of the TV. But not money. That wasn’t part of our emotional vocabulary.

My mom was the soul of the house — and a magician in the kitchen. Long before microwaves or dishwashers, she cooked with joy. Homemade Chinese food: egg rolls, chow mein, fried rice — our house smelled like a Chinatown dream in the middle of Ohio. For birthdays, she sewed Barbie doll clothes and baked theme cakes that were always spot on. One year mine was shaped like a piano right after we got a piano and I started taking lessons. Didn’t matter — it was perfect.

When I was in high school, my dad and brothers added a tiny family room and a modest owner’s suite with a full bathroom onto the back of the house. That was big time. My Dad had a big garden that produced enough food to feed the neighborhood. We canned everything. When freezing became a thing, we filled two chest freezers with summer’s bounty, stocking up for winter like squirrels with Tupperware.

Of course, we had a septic tank. And if you’ve ever had one, you know. Let’s just say: to this day, I still flush before I poop, out of habit — a protective reflex forged in the trauma of too many overflows. Some things stay with you.

When I was 13, my youngest brother was born. He felt more like my baby than my sibling. My mom had very few things that were “just for her.” Her life was full of family — in every room, every minute. My dad would sometimes pay me to change diapers or get dinner started to give her a break. That arrangement taught me early that work had value — and so did helping.
Looking back, I’ve never felt bad about how we grew up. Not once. It taught me resourcefulness, gratitude, and how to stretch a meal and a dollar without stretching your dignity. It shaped how I see people, how I value community, and what I think of as “enough.”

Sure, I didn’t discover brunch at a restaurant or a professional manicure until I was 40. Camping was our family vacation and we were excited for the two hour trip because Mom packed sandwiches and we go to drink Kool Aid! 

We were never truly lacking.  We were just growing up broke and blissfully unaware.  So many happy memories and always someone to play a game with.

BITCH SESSION

There.  I said it.  There are SO many little things that irritate me.  Remember when our moms told us to use our inside voices and mind our manners in public? Yeah, apparently half the population never got that memo … or they shredded it and parked their cart diagonally across the cereal aisle …

10 Annoying behaviors that deserve their own tiny jail:

1) Standing in line to order something and the person in front of me is on the phone … holding up the “wait a minute” figure to the cashier.

My Solution: Get off the phone before you step up.  Or put your Very Important Conversation in your pocket while finishing your transaction.  Shush yourself!

2) People in quiet places (restaurant, for example) having phone conversations on speaker so we will all know what’s going on.

My Solution:  You can talk quietly but turn off the SPEAKER.  No one, I mean no one, wants to hear both sides of a stranger’s conversation.

3) People parking ON one of the white lines.  Essentially taking two parking spots.  The girlfriend of my neighbor cannot park equally between to parking lines to save her soul … even the handicap spot!  (The boyfriend has hassled us so many times over the past five years that we should park more to the left as his two door Corvette parks on our right and he has trouble getting in and out because he is 78 with huge doors and my little Subaru is taking more space than I need) (There are columns that I need to squeeze between and I can’t really get much closer)

My Solution:  Take the extra two minutes to back up and center yourself.

4) Distracted driving.  You know, on the highway or roadway going 10+ miles OVER the speed limit while talking on their phone and drinking coffee.

My solution:  Put down your phone.  If you can’t talk handsfree (enough of a distraction to your driving), then wait and talk when you are done driving.

5) Shoppers who park their cart mostly in the middle of the aisle and place their body to block the rest of the aisle.  And they remain oblivious to the rest of the world and don’t accommodate other shoppers.

My solution:  Park your cart in front of you while you are reading the can or box.  Half the aisle would be open for others.

6) Express lane cheaters with 27 items pretending they don’t see the “12 items or less” sign.

My solution:  Have a store employee who is not easily intimidated to remind said shopper they have too many items and a huge line behind them, most with only 3 items.

7) People who FaceTime their entire shopping trip and narrate it out loud.  Who show their roommate/spouse/child each item and then have a philosophical discussion for 90 seconds

My solution:  Get your ducks in a row BEFORE you leave the house.  Take photos of specific products and refer to them.

8) Line cutters who pretend they “didn’t see” the queue, even though it's clearly marked and 14 people long.  Especially at the Deli counter.

My solution:  Speak up!  Use your outside voice.  Wave your hand if necessary.  Don’t be a doormat.

9) People who stop at the top of escalators or just inside Costco doors, to check their phone while others pile up behind them.

My solution:  Get out of the way of incoming traffic quickly .. then check your shopping list or email.

10) People who "test" every flavor at the ice cream counter, then order vanilla.  Usually at a busy time with many people waiting interminably to place their order.

My solution:  Hire an outspoken employee who can say “Oh, just 3 samples” when we have a crowd waiting to order.

What is up with the public these days?  Does the world revolve around just them?  Manners anyone?  Is there a special school where they teach people to block every possible aisle at the grocery store?

Alright.  I’ll stop whining.  For this week.  I’m pretty sure I can quickly think up ten more.  PLEASE, add to my list?

Halitosis Extreme Version

On Thursday I went to have my teeth cleaned.  I've been going there for 20+ years.   I was commiserating about feeling like I have bad breath more frequently as I am aging.  The hygenist asked if I had ever used a tongue scraper.  No! I hadn't.  She said I have just the thing!  A lot of people have never been told about tongue scrapers—it’s one of those best-kept secrets of dental hygiene.

Apparently, the tongue’s surface has tiny bumps (papillae) that trap:

    Bacteria

    Food debris
    Dead cells

Over time, this buildup can cause:

    Halitosis (bad breath)
    A white or yellowish coating
    Altered taste perception

Using a tongue scraper helps remove that nasty bacteria and debris.  Some studies show tongue scraping removes significantly more volatile sulfur compounds (the smelly stuff) than just brushing your tongue with a toothbrush.

First, you have to choose a scraper.  Stainless steel and copper scrapers are most durable.  But plastic ones work fine too and are often gentler.  The dentist's office provided a plastic one by G.U.M.  The least expensive option to start.  If I keep it up, I'll reward myself with a stainless steel version.

It is easy to use ... stand in front of a mirror and stick your tongue out as far as comfortable.  Place curved edge of the scraper at the back of tongue, as far back as you can without gagging.  (After doing this for a while, the gag reflex should lessen).  If you have a sensitive gag reflex, start slowly and don’t go too far back.

Scrape forward by gently pulling the scraper from the back of you mouth toward the tip of your tongue in one smooth motion.  No need to press too hard—light pressure is enough.

Rinse and Repeat. Use once or twice daily, ideally before brushing your teeth.  Rinse the scraper under running water.  Repeat the scraping motion 2–4 times until your tongue feels clean.  Then brush and finish by rinsing your mouth with water and/or mouthwash.

Clean the scraper ... wash it thoroughly and let it dry.  AI suggests soap and water and I also dip mine in Hydrogen Peroxide to kill any bad bugs that might be hiding.  We are supposed to replace plastic scrapers every few months (or sooner if they get rough edge).

My hygienist gave me a great tip. After a cleaning, your mouth is already feeling fresh, and starting tongue scraping now helps you keep that clean feeling much longer.

I'll update in a few months.  So far, I love it!