Bad day at Black Rock

Yesterday was indeed a bad day at Black Rock, mostly because of computer glitches. I decided, after long procrastination, to tackle some insurance matters, but my scanner wouldn't send me an email--said it had no connection. Call Staples where I bought it and was told to call Hewlett Packard, which I did--I thought. Turns out I let some outfit called Dial-a-Tech take over my computer and tell me it's a mess, thoroughly corrupted with viruses, etc. and for only $369 they would fix it and give me virus protection for two years. Scariest thing to me was that the tech asked if I did online banking, and I said yes. In retrospect I am banging myself in the head and saying, "Dumb, dumb, and dumber."  I thanked the tech, who I think was in India, and told him I'd call back. Called my son-in-law, the computer consultant, who told me it was horribly wrong and who I'd gotten. All that time I thought I was letting HP take over my computer and that's why I answered the question about online banking. Said son-in-law was so focused on how they got control of my computer and what they did that he never addressed the scanner problem. I changed bank info as best I could, and then I called an official HP tech--who was in India, and I couldn't understand a word she said. She promised to talk more clearly and louder, but I said it was no use In desperation I went into the official HP site and figured out how to scan from there--more trouble than the printer, but it works and this morning I got the insurance business submitted.
But the thought that someone could hack my bank accounts made me so frantic that I was not patient with Jacob and his homework...and he had lots of it. We did the math (a breeze for him), the spelling (a breeze for me), the reading (a pain for him), and then began research on his project on anteaters. We looked at and he took notes on the National Zoo site and we both learned a lot about anteaters--which was not my primary interest at the time. And he wanted instant attention, when I was focused on son-in-law's emails and what to do to protect my bank account.
I fixed grilled cheese for supper, only to be met with "I don't like your grilled cheese. Can I have something else?" I said no, try it. He took a bite and said, "Not too bad actually." But then he didn't eat it or the apple slices because one slice had the husk of a seed still on it--how careless of me! I wouldn't let him get anything else to eat and about eight when he said he was hungry, I offered him the dinner still on the table and he ate half. Mean Juju!
Today was a much better day, though I sort of lazed through the rainy, drizzly hours. Got some work done but not a lot, and ended the day at supper with neighbors at the Grill. It's truly a neighborhood meeting place--ran into a good friend, and then another neighbor joined us and we had a truly interesting discussion. Stayed an hour and a half which I never do.
Ready for bed. The change in time leaves me sleepy in the morning and sleepy at night A no-win situation.

The difference in grilled cheese sandwiches

Lesson learned. Never take a picky child to an even semi-sophisticated restaurant. Tonight friend Carol and I took Jacob to the Magnolia Cheese Company for supper. I had called ahead to be sure they could do a plain grilled cheese, since that's one thing Jacob will eat--usually. Turns out there's grilled cheese and then there's, "I don't like it." When he made that pronouncement, I tasted it--and darned if it wasn't the best grilled cheese I've had in a while. Of course, he wouldn't touch the kale chips that came with it--don't think the child has ever met kale in his life.
Recently my brother pulled into the parking lot of our local deli, Carshon's, and Jacob announced that he didn't like their grilled cheese. I shushed him and said Uncle John wanted lox and cream cheese and the rest of us liked Carshon's a lot. Jacob apparently only likes the cheese sandwiches at the Old Neighborhood Grill and The Star Café. When I told him earlier this week we were going to The Star with Aunt Betty, he said, "Oh, good. I like their grilled cheese."
To me, a grilled cheese is a grilled cheese, maybe with some rare exceptions. I wouldn't call myself a gourmand, but I know good food from ordinary. I can distinguish between say bottled pasta sauce and the real, homemade thing, or between bottled salad dressing and a good vinaigrette. And I relish the occasional fancy dish, such as brie with jalapeno salsa or those rare lamb chops the other night.  But grilled cheese?
When Jacob asked what dessert they had I told him cheesecake and bread pudding. "I think I'll try cheesecake," he said. "Have you ever had it?" The answer was no. I wasn't about to give him a dessert of any kind if he didn't eat his supper, let alone something he probably wouldn't eat. Carol's comment that it was chevre cheesecake (she said goat) squelched any argument on his part.
We came home and I fixed a peanut butter and honey sandwich and followed it with a bit of vanilla ice cream. Can he go through life eating grilled cheese and hot dogs at the Grill or The Star?