A banking failure, a cooking almost-failure, and Sunday is Sunday

 

You learn something every day, but sometimes it’s not fun. My latest lesson has involved the intricacies of banking. Last week I had two unauthorized charges on a bank account—one to an “aesthetics” business in Ottawa, Ontario, and the other from an author I’d never heard of who ordered me several of her books, though I never saw them. The only thing I could figure out was that Jacob had used my debit card to order  a hamburger, and somehow it was compromised. Except the charges were made on different debit cards.

Our bank is on top of things though and notified me of the suspicious charges. So we closed that account, opened a new one, and they said a new card would be held at the bank for me. But then I asked for a second card to go to Jordan, since she does grocery shopping and other errands. They could not issue two cards on one account number, but they could give her a second card with a different ending. I asked for that, and then we got all mixed up.

The new card wasn’t at the bank, mostly because they were confused by my name as cardholder and Jordan’s name as my daughter. Many phone calls ensued, and a new card was mailed. I got the first card that had been mailed, originally for Jordan, which left her without a card. So today, for a grocery trip, she took mine. Are you confused yet, because I sure was.

She called from the grocery store, not a happy camper: the pin didn’t work. I had no idea what the new pin was/is. I do not remember a thing about changing it, etc., though you’d think I would have made a record. While she went to the back of the cashier’s line, I changed the pin, called and told her what it was, and she eventually brought groceries home. Even in a good mood. Meantime I had locked myself out of the bank for too many log-in tries (don’t ask how because I have no idea).

Tonight, we have it all straightened out (I hope and pray), I have a new pin, there are no more fraudulent charges on the account, the second card is in the mail, and we have needed groceries. Whew!

Menu tonight was some chicken/spinach/feta sausages I like from Central Market, asparagus, and potatoes. Not being interested in boiled potatoes, I suggested I make scalloped. I must have forgotten that I’ve never successfully made scalloped potatoes. They are either undercooked or soupy. As a precaution, I used a recipe billed as easy that was like nothing I’d ever seen: you boiled everything together—potatoes, half and half, garlic, salt, pepper, butter. Then you simmered until the mixture began to thicken—only it never did. Finally, I spooned the potatoes and much of the liquid into a baking dish, put it in the oven, and turned the whole thing over to Jordan. She eventually added the rest of the liquid and topped the casserole with Parmesan.

Result was potatoes with really good flavor but no eye appeal—the Parmesan browned, I had used just the right amount of salt and pepper, but the creamy sauce lay in little clumps on the soft and mushy potatoes (that texture was not a bad thing). I still have to master scalloped potatoes, but so much for a recipe that promised 15 minutes prep and an hour cooking. I started peeling and slicing a little before 5:30—we ate at 7:45.

Otherwise it was Sunday all day. I went to church, at my computer, alone, and contemplated going back to in-person church. I am not afraid of covid contamination, but I am afraid that getting into the church and up the long aisle will require a longer walk than I could do. Like a lot of other things, it was not a problem before quarantine. But now I find my stamina so reduced. Or is it my confidence in my stamina?

I finished PT this week—again. But I have a feeling I’ll be seeing those folks again. Meantime, I try to keep up with the exercises, and Jordan promises me that once end-of-school activities are over, we’ll talk seriously about the best way to get back to church.

Meantime, may the good Lord hold you in the palm of his hand. Sweet dreams, everyone.