More Craigslist Drama

No, I wasn’t killed. But you know how I wanted to sell our old bed?  Well, I posted it on craigslist, and I used my husband’s work as the “meet up” place if asked. Well, I get a couple of emails from a guy who wants to buy it. He then says he can’t get there himself, so he will send me a cashier’s check with the amount I’m asking for the bed-$400-plus what it would cost to ship. Thought it seemed a bit weird. Who spends money without making sure the bed is OK?

But OK.

So at my husband’s work he gets a UPS envelope addressed to me with an unfamiliar return address that does NOT match the name on the email of the person who wrote to me. Inside is a cashier’s check for $3,200!  But the return address is not Turkey; it’s in California. And there is NO note. All very weird. I email the guy and ask him for clarification, and I get nothing.

I smell weirdness.

My guess is if I go to cash this check, it will be full of beans, and I would have shipped of my bed for free. Has anyone heard of this scam? I held the check up, and there is no visible watermark.

Meanwhile, I told a lady I had sold the bed when she asked. Harumph.  Gotta try to sell it to the psychos again.

Shout Out to My Blogger Pals

Most of my friends have a physical presence. Then there are those that are virtual friends, like many of you who come to Cool Mom or whom I follow on Twitter. Then there are a few who straddle this divide. Bloggers who are friends. Honestly, only one has been made physically manifest before me. Rebecca Woolf Girl’s Gone Child. She is a fellow Momversationer, and we found we lived VERY close to each other. She’s about a quarter of my age, but except for having tattoos where I am terrified of them, we are very sympatico as mothers and people.

I give her a lot of credit for coming to the party I had in January to celebrate the impending birth of my son. She didn’t know a soul.. .well, there was one other person she knew. But she showed up with a gift. Bless her heart. Sometimes I can’t handle going out by myself… so much energy. She didn’t know at the time I was partly throwing the party have a big party while I had a BIG house. Months later, we ran into each other with our babies, and I told her all. Crying (as I am prone to do when nursing) and talking about losing my retirement and home. She is so dear, warm, and positive. Can’t believe how young she is. Very grounded. At her age, I think I was having some kind of affair I would never want my children to know about.

It’s a funny club, mom blogging. It’s kind of like being on a low production scale reality show that you have more control over. We get to do the editing. No slow-motion burns to represent conflict. It’s sort of art. I think if moms who went berserk years ago could have had a safe place to talk about concerns and disappointments, they might not have gone mad.

Another mom blogger who lives too far to meet, but we have had a penpal friendship, is crabmommy. Sometimes I don’t know how these friendships start, but I really like her writing and she recently wrote me a very heartfelt email after I did my Madoff week. The last line of her email brought tears to my eyes. It had her sassy quality and full of heart.

“And luckily although a shitload was taken from you, there’s an awful lot they didn’t get!”

I really loved that. And of course, though I’ve seen the dark side of humanity with Madoff, et al., I have been on the end of the light side as well.  So many dear people.

Spying on a Teen

Every once in a while, I like a reminder that I am not a certifible loon. Yesterday, as I was working on my computer, I kept hearing this pinging noise coming from it. I finally minimized the window I was working in to see that I was getting instant messages. But they weren’t for me – they were for my stepson. I answered one with “Are you looking for Oliver?” It was a gal friend of his who I know, so I told her he was at his mom’s.

IM/Red Abstraction No. 2
Creative Commons License photo credit: Kris Cohen

The pings kept coming. I saw in the iChat menu that he had 10 friends wanting to talk – four boys and six girls. I won’t say I wasn’t curious. Since he’s a typical 9th grade boy and shares next to nothing about his life, the idea of one of those awful psycho moms who pretends to be the kid in order to get info flashed through my head. The thought passed quickly as I “quit” iChat (yeah, it took me a while to figure that out) and emailed Oliver that folks were wanting to gab.

I told him I had thought better of playing mom-spy. “Ha ha,” he wrote. “I know moms like that. They are weird.”

That was the nicest thing he’s ever said to me! I’m not weird! At least, that’s how I am deciding to take it.