Putting Out Fires

Everyone who has a Google account, (and that's most of us who have Blogger as our blogging platform) has had that annoying helpful warning to immediately reveal our mobile phone numbers to Google lest something dire happen and we need to recover our account. I have resisted doing that every time - opting instead to seek out the teeny-tiny link which says to ignore their demand suggestion and continue on to do what I had intended to do before being so rudely interrupted.

Earlier one evening, I had been multi-tasking - that is - reading and commenting on blogs and replying to emails as they arrived. After leaving several comments on different blogs, Google suddenly decided to ask me for my password. It accepted my usual string of letters and numbers and then told me that my account was no longer accessible.

What?

What followed after that was explained by me to my blogging buddy Linda in a response email at a ridiculously sleepless hour of the morning. We both knew it was going to end up in a blog post. Here it is, almost exactly as I typed it to her:

Why am I still up? Because somewhere between my last set of responses to you and these two, Google decided to shut me down. It seems there was "suspicious activity" on my account and to "protect" me, they disabled everything Google, including Gmail and my blog. It was GONE!

They held my blog hostage, forcing me to give my cell phone number in order to recover it, and yet when I did, I never received the text giving me the promised verification code.

"Go to sleep" Frank told me in a text "it'll be back."

Oh he of minimal technological understanding "It won't come back unless I have a verification code and they haven't sent it."

"Go to sleep"

"It's my BLOG!"

"Goodnight!"

Auto correct would not allow me to use the curse words I texted to him in response - I must have been mistaken. I was not.

I decided to go through the process of giving them my cell number again and hope for the text with my verification code for step two of the recovery process.

Nothing.

I fell asleep for about an hour and then fell wide awake and checked my cell phone. There was the message with my 6 digit recovery code. So of course I tried to access it on the phone. I entered the number...

Invalid code.

Those same words that auto correct wouldn't allow me to type to Frank came to mind once again.

I decided to get up and go to the desktop to try again. Suddenly I had a new page of information which vaguely referenced my secondary email address - and by that, I mean that it presented it to me with asterisks and just enough real letters so that I could recognize it as my address. It told me to go there for an email with further instruction. I felt like I was on a reality television show. Would I arrive in my other email box and win the golden egg or would I find instead the decrepit old goat and cart behind door number three?

I found a link and clicked it. It led me back to the page asking for my cell phone number. Again.

Arrggghhh!

So again, I entered my cell phone number and this time, immediately got a text message with the same code I was sent earlier. I entered it and this time they allowed me to change my password. And my Gmail and blog came back to life.

I hate (insert a derivative of the word that auto correct wouldn't allow me to use) Google.

And just as I typed that last sentence, there was a spontaneous flash of lightning (I kid you not). Google has far too much power.

It thinks it's God.

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So that fire was thankfully extinguished before too long. Below are some photos of another small fire which was also quickly put out.


On my way back from a walk, and just a few houses away from Frank's place, I glanced to my left and noticed smoke drifting across the field. I knew that the chances of it getting out of control was small on this particular day - there had been a lot of rain that week. Still, I wondered what caused it and if anyone else was aware of it.





Within seconds, I saw a small group of people - one who told me she had phoned the fire department, and a man who made his way across the field to see what he could do about extinguishing it. He had a branch with him and began poking at the source, trying to tamp the burning twigs and leaves so that they would expire faster.






A moment later, a couple of other men appeared and and were soon joined by two young boys. They were engaged in deep discussion. The man in green, to whom the boys confessed that they started the fire explained that they came out of hiding, admitted it readily and felt badly for the potential damage they had caused. Like most young ones, they hadn't considered the possible consequences and had not been looking to cause any harm. They were good kids.





A fire truck arrived and the boys were gently escorted to report their story to one of the crew.





A couple of firefighters made their way down the slope and across the field with an extinguisher and a broom.





Together, they promptly put out the rest of the small fire while others watched.





The crew member who spoke with the kids, always had a kindly smile on his face. He hadn't forgotten that he'd been a boy once.





He also made sure they understood that had it been dryer and windier, the fire could have easily caused a lot of damage.





I imagine that names and phone numbers were recorded, parents were contacted and lessons were well learned.

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I apologize for my less than regular visits. This summer is proving to be extremely busy for me. I thank all of you who still stop by in spite of my infrequent pop ins.

More photos coming up... eventually.