“Hidden” $1 Value Drink at Jack’s Saves Big Cents

4 ounces smaller . . . and 79 cents cheaper

When eating “in” at Jack in the Box®, I make sure to order the “value drink,” even though I never find it listed on the menu. For $1, I get a refillable 16-ounce soft drink. If I order a “small,” I’d pay an extra 79 cents for the additional 4 ounces. (That’s $1.79 cents for a 20-ounce soda.)

The smaller choice makes sense to me, especially since it is so easy to get my own refill.

I discovered the “value drink” earlier this year during a well advertised in-store promo. After the signs came down, I just kept on ordering it.

Curious that I never see the value drink on the menu any more, I checked Jack’s website. According to a May 10, 2012, Jack in the Box press release: “The new Value Menu items – and prices, excluding tax, at participating Jack in the Box restaurants – are:”

• Chicken nuggets (5 pieces) $1.29
• Jr. Jack Hamburger $1.19
• 16-ounce drink $1.00
• Value fries $1.00.

The other values don’t interest me, since the only meal I ever order at Jack’s is the addictive Southwest Chicken Salad with grilled (not crispy) chicken. Do any of the “values” interest you?

For years, I never paid much attention to dollar-stretching tips: I’d personally, knowingly pay the extra fee for a more convenient size. Nowadays, I feel as good after stretching a dollar, as I do from stretching my muscles after a workout. (Something else I never bothered to do, until recently.)

The extra effort does make a difference.

Do you have a simple money-saving tip to share? I’d love to hear it.

© “Annsights” Blog, 2012

WWII Veteran Fred Kercher: 1913 – 2012

Fred’s light didn’t go out when he died: He just passed the torch to family and friends, forever brightening our lives.

Tacoma, Wash. — World War II veteran and dedicated family man Fred Kercher (born January 30, 1913) of Spanaway, joined the love of his life, wife Betty, on January 8, at age 98.

Friends and family remember Fred for his twinkling blue eyes, outgoing nature, a wonderful sense of humor and a life filled with intriguing stories.

The son of a farmer, as a child he befriended a pig he called “Dog,” and even rode him from time to time. After years of working fields with horses, he bought trucks and maintained a living during the Depression hauling sugar beets, sheep, coal and whatnot in Colorado and Idaho, helping to support his family. Mechanically gifted, he loved tinkering with his own 1924 Model-T Ford, and learned to professionally repair virtually any vehicle, including military tanks.

Fred proudly volunteered to join the U.S. Army. He served, returned home … then war broke out. After Pearl Harbor, Fred served in Australia, New Guinea and the Philippines. He was on the beach when General Douglas MacArthur arrived to fight the Imperial Japanese Army in the Philippines.

Fred earned the American Defense Service Medal, Philippine Liberation Medal, Asiatic Pacific Campaign Service Medal, a Good Conduct Medal and a Bronze Service Star.

After the war, in 1946, he married his long-time love, Betty L. Farris (1923-1997).

Both he and Betty worked at the Ft. Lewis laundry, where he became a washermen supervisor. He retired from civil service in 1972, becoming a stay-at-home Dad for his youngest.

Fred is survived by son Darryl Kercher, of Spanaway; daughters Dineice Piper of Kelso and DeAnna Coombs of Jensen, UT; brothers Gene Kercher, of Auburn, and Robert Kercher, Tacoma. Surviving grandchildren include: Joanna Delmar of Battleground, Charles Piper of Kelso, Jean McCarroll of Longview, and Jennifer Kercher of Spanaway. Ten great-grandchildren and two great-great grandchildren also carry on his legacy.

Fred is preceded in death by brother Elmer Kercher of Minnesota, and sisters Helen Ruvo, Joann Mizner, and Verna Ruvo of Tacoma, and Althea Walling of Colorado.

The family thanks Dr. Waltman and the staff at Heartwood for their ongoing warmth and care.

Visitation: Friday, January 13, at Mountain View Funeral Home, Lakewood, WA. The Saturday, January 14, service: 1:00pm at Mountain View Celebration of Life Center, 4100 Steilacoom Blvd SW, Tacoma.

For more, in his own words, visit YouTube:  Fred Kercher – A Day in the Life of a 97-year-old.mp4 .  

Jazzed! Finally Learning to Swim

Happy dancing in my head because of today’s leap in progress: I breaststroked 30 laps in the leisure pool for the first time. My previous best: five laps, last week. I’m grinning with glee!

My lack of swimming ability has been a lifelong embarrassment. Until this year, I’d only admit to being a lousy swimmer if my lack of ability could impact 1) suggested plans, 2) the safety of others, or 3) my own safety.

Who likes to admit to fear? Weakness? Failure?

But now that I’m motivated to learn, dedicated to improve, I’m jazzed to share my progress.

I’ll admit that during the 30 laps today I stopped at the end of each of the lengths. Still, I kept on improving and going on. It eventually felt routine. I never got scared.  My breathing even felt normal.

But then, I was swimming in the leisure pool at the Federal Way Community Center: It has no deep end.

I still have to gain enough nerve to breaststroke my first length and lap in the longer, deeper (scarier) competition pool.

In the competition pool earlier this year I learned to backstroke. Then I learned to backstroke laps. Worked my way up to a mile at a time, swimming on my back. It felt easy, since I didn’t have to learn how to breathe. It felt easy, since I didn’t have to actually look down below me and see how the water gets deeper, and deeper.

As my Facebook friends know, so far this year I backstroked 50+ miles. I even backstroked two miles recently, just to prove to myself that I could.

About time I learn to swim the breaststroke, too.

My fiancé loves boating. So do his friends in San Francisco and Seattle. So, I finally have the motivation to learn to swim.

I’m also loving my new muscle definition, calorie burn and endorphin highs.

It can be so much fun, and invigorating, to learn and make progress. Don’t cha think?

Drivers Don’t Always Look Right for Pedestrians, Bikes

Brand new “Stop Here on Red” signs in my city remind drivers to come to a complete stop, before turning right at a red light.

Many drivers need such reminders.

Stop ... and look right for pedestrians, please.

Observe for yourself as you are out and about driving and walking. You may be surprised how many drivers look left for traffic, when slowing down, but are too rushed to stop. And even if they do stop, many are still too rushed to look right for pedestrians who have the right of way.

After a near tragedy in our family a few years ago, I really started noticing.

Returning from a Goodwill outing, Phil was pushing Mom in a wheelchair, with me and my niece Jennifer walking behind. At the corner crosswalk, Phil planned to ease the wheelchair backwards over the curb.

It was my pre-designated duty to say when it was safe to cross.

So, when the pedestrian light turned green, and the front car had stopped, I said out loud, “We can go now.” But the driver turning right, he kept on looking left for traffic, and never, ever, looked right for pedestrians, even after he stopped. And I had not taken the extra seconds to make sure I had eye contact with the driver.

So, at my instruction, all four (4!) of us started crossing as the driver started turning right on red. Phil bellowed, “Stop! x@$%&$! Stop! #$%&*!” and kicked hard off the bumper, pushing Mom out of the way, and somehow preventing his own legs from getting smashed.

We were all shaken, very upset … and blessedly not injured.

Since that scare, while out walking I’ve had a number of drivers cut in front of me when I had the right of way. They just didn’t take the extra seconds to make sure there was no pedestrian traffic to their right.

Now when I walk, I try not to assume drivers will do the right thing. Instead, I take an extra second or two make sure to catch the attention of the drivers before crossing in front of their cars, even when I have the right of way. Often, I  take off my sunglasses to help me make better eye contact. I even remove my iPod ear buds, to give crossing my full attention — which is a real pain, since I’m usually listening to a really good audio book by Stephen King or James Patterson.

I admit, these extra efforts can be irritating. But each time I curse when a driver turns, totally oblivious to me and other pedestrians, I am reminded that the extra effort and time is less painful than … the potential alternative.

To be honest: I have found myself being just as oblivious a driver.

Just this past month I started turning out of our drive, not noticing to my right a bicycle riding on the sidewalk. I had looked left for cars, but not right to the sidewalk. I slammed on my brakes in time to scare both of us.

“Stop Here on Red,” warns the new signs.

Perhaps the next sign should be, “Look Right Before Turning.”

And the last, “Bet You Wish You Had.”

© “Annsights” Blog, 2011

Beware of Burping Texts

Why the heck did he text me the delightful new message … with the months-old bad-vibes text in its history? That just threw me into a funk.

I didn’t bring it up at the time, but mentioned it hours later.

“Huh????”

Oh! He always kills off his old text history. But somehow, Verizon’s system decided to be creative, burping up and attaching to a March 9, 2011, text to me a chain of other random texts to me from July 23, Aug. 10, Aug. 15 and Sept. 10, 2010.

All texts he and I had deleted.

It wasn’t that the Sept. 10 text said anything bad. (It didn’t.) It just reminded me of a face-to-face discussion we had moved passed.

Wow. Even deleted texts may remain out there, somewhere, forever, and could eventually be inconveniently burped up.

We may never know that it even happened. (What if I hadn’t mentioned it to him?)

Another reason to be careful about what we put in writing.

© “Annsights” Blog, 2011

Their Messages Resonate, with Few of Their Own Words

Mom read newspapers, mailed clips. Hersch emails links from the Web. Via Blackberry I skim Google News, The WSJ and NY Times and post links to FB.

My big brother Hersch sends me links to articles he finds on the Web that will interest me.  That’s a habit — a gift — he gleaned from Mom.

For decades, our mailmen (and yes, they were men) routinely delivered hand-addressed envelopes from Mom. Many included articles she meticulously hand clipped and dated.

These weren’t just any articles. She managed to find ones that related to our own history and personal interests, which would really mean something to us.

My newsprint announcements featured Jean’s wedding, Bill’s new client and Indy’s new stadium, and black-and-white news spreads of the attractions I helped open … being torn down or renovated years later.

Mom found for us news about places and people we were fond of, our cities, companies, favorite authors, hobbies … and health tips.

Every single day, Mom sipped hot instant Folgers from a mug and read The Indianapolis News (until it closed), then The Indianapolis Star and The Franklin Township Informer. She read at the kitchen table. On the couch. On the front step. At McDonald’s.

That’s just what Mom did. Every single day.

If any one of us were there, she’d read excerpts of various articles out loud.

In May 1997, Mom's clippings included an AP article linking cell phones to cancer ... and "Love, Mom."

And when we were no longer there — living in Chicago, Madison, Rantoul, Kenosha and Tacoma — she’d still share the articles with us.

At times, she’d even make copies at the Wanamaker branch library, and ship similar packages to each of us, so we’d each be equally informed.

Early on, she wrote in script on stationary her news of the day — “Walked 4 miles” — and included the letter with the clips. Eventually she just included yellow Post-It notes scrawled with “Love, Mom.”

With or without a letter, each envelope was filled with thoughts. With love.

Today, my brother’s links are just as meaningful. I can’t be with him as he browses the Web, but the 1800 miles are bridged by his constant reminders that he clearly is thinking of me — and understands my interests.

On FaceBook, I too post articles, in hopes they may resonate with a friend or sibling. Like my brother, I am my Mother’s child. However, I’m typically reading Google News, The Wall Street Journal, New York Times, Technorati … on my Blackberry, before my cup of Joe (straight black).

Are things really that different?

BTW Hersch: For all the articles you send to me, “Sincerely, thank you.” I haven’t said that enough.

© “Annsights” Blog, 2011

Stoned Rings? Give ‘em Regular Checkups!

His grandmother’s ring is not on my finger. It seems that settings wear with age and my vintage 1960′s engagement ring is a perfect example: the prongs around the main diamond, and the prongs on either end need to be retipped in white gold. So glad my fiancé’s mom advised we get the ring checked.

Various jeweler Web sites suggest that prongs on new rings be evaluated every six months, and older rings get checked more frequently, especially if rings are worn all the time or are exposed to frequent friction.

Jewelers typically do not charge for such checkups.

Until I became engaged last week, I never realized the need to periodically inspect for stability of stone settings. Prongs naturally wear down over time? I certainly never would have guessed how frequently rings should be checked.

Did you know this?

Yesterday, I called my sister. She said the settings on her ring have never been checked, ever. I advised she do it sooner, rather than later.

This past week, I’ve been to two jewelers. The first one said, “Too many customers come in this door full of regret because they just lost a stone.” He was glad I was coming in sooner, versus later. So am I!

Both jewelers advised the same “retipping” repair work, and the first one agreed with my gut feeling that I should have the ring appraised before leaving it anywhere. (The same advice I read on the Web.)

Last Thursday I made a Tuesday appointment to have the ring appraised for insurance purposes. On Tuesday, the jeweler inspected the ring while I waited. On Friday, when I pick up the appraisal I will check to see if the jeweler listed any “inclusions” (unique identifying marks in the diamond) that could identify the main stone. Only then will l leave the ring behind to have the center and end prongs be retipped in white gold for 75 bucks.

While all this kind of feels like paranoia or overkill to me (and probably to you too), I’d certainly rather be careful now, versus regretful later. (Hey, I continue to try to live my life with as few regrets as possible.)

I’d be heartbroken to look down and discover a missing stone.

When I mentioned to the jeweler that I swim a lot, he suggested that I not wear the ring in a hot tub, and especially not frequently: hot tub chlorine chemicals are stronger than those in a swimming pool, and seriously eat at the metal alloys that help make the gold strong enough to wear. Such chemicals can yellow the alloys in white-gold rings, and discolor yellow-gold rings as well.

I’m not planning on wearing this cherished ring while lifting weights, swimming, or relaxing in a hot tub.

Meanwhile, my fiancé and I are discussing a sturdy wedding-ring style that I can wear all the time. And, I’m reminding all my friends to please drop by a jewelry store from time to time, for a quick, free ring cleaning and inspection.

© “Annsights” Blog, 2011

All I Wanted for Christmas, I Already Received

What more can I ask for? My Fred at 97.9 years old!

Good promising health for my family and friends is all I really want this holiday.

Thank you all for that gift.

May it continue … and continue.

Impulsively, I Started a New Holiday Tradition

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Today I ended up making a Christmas wreath from a few of the storm remnants I found along the sidewalk.

Wasn’t in my plans at all. But the storm scattered evergreen limbs across the yards and streets in my Western Washington town. Sprigs of fresh green pine needles were everywhere! What a waste of fresh greenery, especially at this time of year.

Seeking a Christmas wreath that I both liked and thought worth the price, last week I trudged from store to store. No luck.

While I never before thought about making my own wreath, the lovely storm debris spoke to me. I had to listen. I had to save some.

Typically I’d scan oodles of Googles for “how to” tips on wreath making. Today I thought, “Why research? It will be fun to figure out on my own. Should be simple.”

It was. And it only cost me $10. With planning and leftovers from today’s project, I can easily cut that price in half next time.

While I dropped by Michael’s only for a spool of green florist wire ($1.49), on the nearby peg I discovered a metal wreath frame ($2.99, regular price).

My mind started whirring, “They make a frame for wreaths? Duh…of course they do. And it only costs three bucks?”

Sold!

Instead of my idea of wiring sprigs of pine together, I wove and stuck sprigs around the frame. While I didn’t use the florist wire for the greenery, it was handy for attaching the bargain decorations I found at 60 to 70% off, including red-glittered flowers and the ribbon.

It did take me a few tries to tie a real pretty bow. I ended up using triple layers of the red-and-gold wired ribbon ($2.39 at 60% off).

I meant to have a bow with long tails hanging from the wreath top. But, when I switched form a 1-layer to 3-layer bow, I ran low on ribbon. I do like the short bow at the bottom of the handmade-by-Ann wreath hanging on my front door. I like the wreath too.

So, from this year forth, as the Pacific Northwest wind storms roll in right before the holidays, I’m going to recycle more storm debris and make more wreaths for me, my local family and friends.

Next time, in advance I will Google instructions to help make improved, thicker wreaths.

Meanwhile, I am so glad I didn’t do my normal research and planning this time. The creative I-did-it-all-by-myself discovery process was rewarding. Self satisfying. Refreshing.

A nice way to launch Christmas week.

© “Annsights” Blog, 2010.

What Happened to the Advertised Bargain Price?

It was just promoted there on the screen in large 24-pt. type. Then, when I went to confirm the car reservation, I received the error message: “The price is no longer available.” Say what?

Was it bait and switch?

Having worked in e-commerce and retail for years, I try to give companies the benefit of the doubt and not jump to that conclusion. After all, it was a well-respected travel discount site (one I shall not name, just in case I someday end up with them as a client). The price was promoted by their preferred car vendor, which is also a big brand name.

Perhaps the price changed while I was making my reservation. While it was 9:30 p.m. Pacific time, it was after midnight Eastern time, and I periodically find etailers that cut their deals off at midnight Eastern.

So I went through the reservation process again (and again), and the same low car rental price of $18 per day for $110.24 total, including taxes, came up for the four days in Indy. Each time I went to make the reservation, after filling in all the blanks, the total price increased by $28.51, for a total of $138.75.  (That’s a $23.86-per-day rate.)

So I searched and searched online. Everywhere the lowest care rental rate was at least $23.86/day over this particular weekend at Indianapolis International Airport.

I even tried logging in from different browsers, and then from another computer. I signed up for several frequent rental programs. I signed into various travel discount sites. I input various discount codes. Nowhere could I find anything as low as the advertised $110, including taxes and fees.

Once I had been teased by that rate, I really wanted it. Not just to save money (which is very important at this time), but also because of the principle.

Finally, after doing some mathematical computations, I went to Priceline.com and made an offer of $16 per day for four days, which would come to $108.83, including taxes and all the extra fees. My offer was accepted by Avis Rent a Car, and I prepaid the non-refundable fee.

Since I’m traveling stand by, I really didn’t want to pre-pay for car rental, just in case I can’t catch the flights from Seattle to Indianapolis that I hope to. On stand by, I may end up arriving a day or so later.

With Priceline I negotiated a deal for four days that cost about the same as a three-day rental everywhere else. The deal is perfect for this trip to my family reunion.

But, I’m still disappointed: I really do consider that bait and switch. What a shame. I’ve always trusted that travel vendor.

Usually I would write such a respected company with my concern. But I spent so much time and energy tracking down an equivalent deal, that I won’t this time.

On the brighter side: I just bookmarked http://www.Priceline.com and plan to name my own pre-paid price in the future.

According to Priceline, my $108.83 deal was 44 percent cheaper ($86.85) than Avis’ lowest published price at that time, which was $195.68. It was $29.92 cheaper than the lowest legitimate total cost I could find anywhere else.

If only Priceline would give me a chance to negotiate the price of my gasoline for this trip.

© “Annsights” Blog, 2010.

Chance Family Reunion After 45+ Years

Last week was filled with awe. Ends up that 97-year-old Fred and his nursing home room-mate were related. I’m not talking about distant relatives, either.

You just have to hear this story.

After Fred’s release from the hospital, the ambulance guys settled Fred into his new bed. Donna’s sitting in the one corner chair, filling out more legal and medical forms for her father-in-law. Darryl is talking to his Dad, Fred. I’m hanging up Fred’s clothes in the closet, while checking which ones still need his name labels ironed on.

In rolls in this guy in a wheel chair: Fred’s room mate.

Someone introduces Fred. The guy repeats the name, then says, “I have an uncle with that name.”

I quickly turn around. He’s got my attention, at least.

After a few moments he says, “My uncle’s wife was Betty.”

I say, “Fred’s wife was named Betty.”

“I’m Bruce. Bucky…..”

Bruce is Fred’s nephew, born in 1939. Bruce has no other family except for Uncle Fred and Fred’s family.  Uncle and nephew lost contact years ago. The last time they saw each other may have been 1963. (No one remembers.)

At age 71, Bucky never expected to see his family again, let alone room with his own uncle.

So Bucky and his baby cousin Darryl (age 48) immediately started catching up on a lifetime of missed family history. (The cousins may have met in 1963 when Darryl was two years old.) I periodically explained to Fred what was going on, since he can usually only follow one person talking one-on-one to him, in his right ear (his only good ear).

And every few moments Bruce paused, saying, “I’m still in shock. You’re my family. I’m with family….”

Can you believe this?

Bruce had only three more days left at the nursing home following nearly 90 days of rehabilitation after surgery, related to childhood polio. He’s moving back home.

Thank goodness Fred arrived when he did.

Some things are just meant to be.

© “Annsights” Blog, 2010.

Withdrawn Proposal

We met when his son married my sister. We became best buds.

With finality, he looked me in the eyes and said, “I can’t marry you anymore.”

He had been so nonsensical until then. I was overwhelmed with a combination of tenderness and … mirth.

“Fred, you are right. But that’s OK,” I reassured him. “While you are still my main man,  you know I have another man in my life who is closer to my age. It will all work out well.”

Fred seemed to be OK with that. Relieved? Did the 97-year-old have one less thing to worry about?

Moments of clarity have become rare so extremely quickly.  (It was only a month ago, on May 8, that I was able to digitally audio record 45 minutes of war and life stories.)

His talk of marriage actually was one of relative clarity.  He recognized me as me.

Fred has semi-kidded for years that our marriage could be logical. We already loved each other’s company.  Out of love, he wanted to share his benefits with me.

We hugged, kissed and said, “I love you.”

And our eyes twinkled.

There are still good moments. It is important to recall the good moments.

© “Annsights” Blog, 2010.

Battling Dementia

He snapped at me, “Quit that!” I stopped singing and bit my lip.

The way he was, ever-so recently.

Then he did the most beautiful thing. Fred, my 97.5-year-old buddy who was in the middle of a new-to-us kind of dementia episode, seemingly incoherent and totally unreachable for one of the first times since I’ve known him… My Fred with the wonderful blue eyes and crinkled face reached up from his bed, with both hands, cradled my face, and so softly said, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I am so sorry.”

At that moment I saw in his eyes the kind-hearted soul of the WWII veteran who has repeatedly told me, “I love everyone… even the Japs. They were under orders from their leaders, just like me….”

© “Annsights” Blog, 2010.

Thankful for the Time We Had

Harold and little Ann shared more than curls.

Today I celebrate fond memories of two McGyver-esque men who could fix just about anything mechanical. (Or so it seemed to me.)

March 28 was the birthdate of both my late dad Harold (1913-1984) and my brother-in-law Randy (1951-1996), whom I loved dearly.

Randy and son working together.

Both died way too early.

When their shared birthday comes around, I try hard to just be appreciative and thankful for the time we did have together.

To recall good memories.

To celebrate their lives.

It does no good whatsoever to waste time dwelling on things outside my control, or theirs. How things could have been different, “if only.”

The fact is that so many positive things have happened ever since their deaths, things that may never had happened otherwise.

Regret attacts negative energy: Celebration attracts positive energy. So I proactively choose to attract positive energy.

I am indeed extremely thankful for the time we had together, and the legacies they left.

Happy birthday Dad. Happy birthday Randy. You made a big difference in my life and in who I am today. You’ll always be in my heart.

Thank you for sharing your lives with me.

(If you’d like, you can read more about Randy.)

© “Annsights” Blog, 2010.

Finders Keepers: Is Making the Effort Still Worth It?

I never flipped it over. I never saw the message!

Today I sorted through the pockets of my jeans, sweaters, jackets and bag to find the penny. Thank goodness I found it again. I finally flipped it over and saw for the first time the words, “Hi Ann.” They were so carefully lettered on the back with a Sharpie.

This penny is  definitely a keeper.

Picking up found coins is a habit that has waxed and waned through the years. Used to be I would go out of my way to pick up each and every coin I saw.

There was a time I even cared about the date and where it was minted: If  the penny has a “D” below the date, it was made in Denver.  Those with no letter were stamped in Philly. San Francisco’s “S” pennies were minted off-then-on again until 1974.

Then, like so many others, I started thinking, “Is it worth the effort to pick it up?” Often the answer became, “No,” for pennies, nickels, and even dimes. (As for quarters, it always has been worth the effort.)

When I no longer felt the finders keepers thrill, I would get it vicariously through the smiling eyes of a child. “Excuse me, did you see that nickel on the floor?”

Sadly, even kids no longer consider the effort of picking up a penny, or even a quarter, as “worth it.”

I changed my  is-it-worth-it attitude a few years ago while on a walk with my sister.

We were passing through the parking lot of a Goodwill and she picked up a dime and grinned.

I started sharing my observations on all the people who no longer find “such an effort” worth it.

What she said gave me pause.

“There have been many times I couldn’t do that motion. Bend over. Reach down. Keep my balance. Now, each time that I can, I am extremely thankful. Each time I find a coin, I  remember how thankful I am.”

As long as I remember, my sister has had a bad knee. It used to go out of joint when we were running in our front yard. She even had her knee cap removed as a teenager, with no replacement put in. (Thank goodness that is an operation they no longer do.)  When she weighed 80 pounds more, that didn’t help.

Since that conversation, I have started to once again pick up the majority of coins I see. I won’t endanger my life or make a fool of myself to pick one up. But, other than that, I have gone back to getting a “Finders Keepers” grin, even with a penny.

While the coins may not add up to much, after I dropped 30+ pounds, I too am fit enough to easily snatch, grin, exclaim and move on.

I thought it was any old penny. Eventually my 1987 Denver became priceless, to me anyway.

As for the “Hi Ann!” penny.

I found it outside, near the door of my guy’s condo. I found it, grinned as usual, then just pocketed it.

Later in the day he asked, “Did you find the penny?”

“Huh? Oh, outside your door? Yes…”

“Did you read the message?”

“Message? What message!”

“I wrote, ‘Hi Ann’” on it. I knew you’d pick it up,” he grinned.

Wow.  He really does know me well.

I can’t believe he made the extra effort to do that!  He’s definitely a keeper, too.

© “Annsights” Blog, 2010.

Insurance Refund Check Made Out to Deceased (26 Years)

I’m just trying to get the refund check made out to someone alive, or to Mom’s estate. Is that too much to ask?

When I received the first check, quickly after my early calls, I was excited, until I saw it was made out to “Harold.”

Harold? Huh? Gee thanks guys! Big help that is.

Dad died in 1984. Mom died in 2008.

The original refund check for $196 was made out to Dad on March 31, 2009. (It was for overpayment in 2008 for Mom’s health insurance, automatically deducted from her bank account.)

I’ve called and called. I faxed documents per the insurance company’s instructions. I emailed a pdf file per their instructions. I refaxed again, per their instructions.

Today I made another call, faxed documents (and the paper trail) again per instructions I received on the phone.

I’m still optimistic, thinking it may actually be resolved shortly.

The only reason I’m keeping the estate open still is in case the check gets made out to the estate. This will be the final payment due the estate.

Meanwhile, I just think of how many people have to go through this. I am so very glad I have such a good sense of humor.

Before this, I pursued a resolution with Social Security. First they said we needed to refund a check. After we did, they said they needed to refund the amount we refunded. Then there were glitches in that refund of the refund.

I feel for all those who get overwhelmed by the onslaught of such administrative errors.

Meanwhile siblings: Look forward to a final estate check for $49!

Hmmm. (Insert mischievous grin of baby of the family.) Perhaps I should make those checks out to “Harold” as well.

© “Annsights” Blog, 2010.

It Takes a Team to Win: Patients Need Active Advocates, Including Self, Family, Friends

It is one of the most disturbing articles I have ever read. Scary. Actually frightful. And I expect once read, the memory of it will remain with each reader forever.  Yet,  I encourage each of my friends and family members to read The New York Times article “Radiation Offers New Cures and Ways to Do Harm” by Walt Bogdanich.

I also encourage their parents, siblings, children and friends to read it. Especially those who have yet to experience being a patient, or having someone close being a patient for something more complex than the flu.

My intent isn’t to instill or enhance fear.  (Although that will likely be a result.)

And it isn’t necessarily to flag the extreme concerns discussed in the Times article. (I’d really rather none of us ever need to recall its contents.)

Consider Acting on Gut Instincs

My desire is that if, or when, you or someone you love is ever faced with a medical concern, that having read such an article …

• Erases intimidation and hesitation, and inspires the courage to proactively ask those tip-of-the tongue and back-of-the mind questions.

• Encourages a family member or friend to accompany a patient to tests, to observe, learn, protect and apply the learnings, and not blindly trust that the system will work.

• Overcomes natural fearfulness. Compels promptly speaking up, voicing concerns to key decision makers, demanding medical personnel to take the time to appropriately respond, requiring the medical team to double-check the accuracy of their pending actions.

Medicine professionals are constantly practicing medicine. Empowered patients and patient advocates should be active team players and coaches in that practice.

It really does take a team to win.

Patients and their personal advocates (as well as the news media) serve as necessary checks and balances in the accurate practice of medicine.

Question, Listen, Take Notes, Remember, Consider and Push as Needed

It is my personal experience that patients need family members and / or friends willing to dedicate time to serve as alert, proactive patient advocates during illnesses or after injuries.

In my late twenties I planned to be independent and have my tonsils taken out alone. I am grateful Mom surprised me and turned up. She helped my requests for ice chips, and more, be pushed through.

My late brother-in-law was being treated for cancer, but died in the hospital after a nurse repeatedly gave him Tylenol, although his chart indicated he was allergic to it.  (The doctor was appalled and heartsick at the needless, deadly mistake.)

My family learned from that.

My having followed Mom out of the ICU to watch her swallow test in the hospital gave me the confidence to quickly speak out to the team of deliberating nursing home nurses and the physician. I deliberately looked each of them in the eyes, then emphatically said, “Something has seriously changed. I see the difference in her swallowing now, versus how well she did in the swallow test at the hospital. I think Mom has had another stroke. She needs to go back to the hospital for treatment.”

And several years later, my mother became oh-so-much-more alert after weeks of my discussions finally persuaded medical personnel to scale back her dose of Dilantin.

My hope is that recalling this New York Time’s article (and perhaps this blog) spurs feelings of ownership, and the confidence to act as a patient advocate, when needed.

And for everyone who already has experienced patient advocacy first hand, I encourage you to pass the word on the importance of being involved, at whatever level is possible at the given time.

Today my list of “must do” priorities did not include blogging. But reading that article compelled me to make the effort, take the time to share this Annsight. Please share your thoughts. Below is a link to post your own comments on this topic.

[If you liked this, check out "Losing a Parent: No Regrets, Next Time" and "The Five-Step Regrets Test."]

© “Annsights” Blog, 2010.

Sharing $2 to $5 Savings – and Smiles

It's like surprising strangers with a gift of $2 or $5.

For the time being, when I shop at my local Grocery Outlet, I seek a shopper with a cart filled with at least $30 of bargains. Once spotted, I make eye contact and approach with my hand reaching out and offering a choice of coupons: $2 off a purchase of $30 or more, or $5 off $50 or more.  The exchange makes me smile, and eventually the perplexed recipient smiles as well.

I like to think that the stranger’s smile pops up a few more times because of the unexpected gift. Like at the end of checkout when the clerk says, “Your total savings for today is ….”  And once home and reciting the story of receiving the coupon. And perhaps even again during the next Grocery Outlet trip or two. Maybe even years later.

Is it strange that I hate the idea of all those coupons going to waste in the trash, with so many people who would really appreciate them?

I truly like that it is so easy to help someone else save several dollars, and for me to generate smiles.

The neighborhood bargain market of overstocks and closeouts routinely publishes such special coupons in one of the community coupon fliers that are delivered to my mail box every few months. Lucky for me, all 240 mailboxes in our condo complex are housed in a mail kiosk that includes a “paper only” trash can to quickly recycle junk mail.  When this particular flier shows up, that’s when I self consciously look around to see who’s watching, and then lean into the trash can to nab as many pitched ads as I feel comfortable digging for.

This last time I think I gathered about 30 fliers.

I went home, cut out the Grocery Outlet coupons, then threw the rest of the coupons that didn’t interest me into the paper recycling bin. I keep the coupons in my car, so I am appropriately prepared.

My parents used to grocery shop at Aldi’s in Indianapolis for everyday discounts.  There are no Aldi’s here, but Washington is one of seven states with Grocery Outlets selling overstocks and closeouts.

I often shop Grocery Outlet first. I love when the calculated savings is more than what I am spending that day.

As for the coupons: Only one coupon may be used per checkout. I save for my own use the $2 off coupon for one frozen food item, which I have been using to stock up on Amy’s organic pizzas, one at a time. Sometimes I drop by, during my errands, only to buy the pizza with the coupon.

Thankfully these coupons are good for three months.

Clipping coupons really isn’t my thing, although  I do closely review the Costco coupon book. And I hate buying something at Jo-Ann or Michael’s without one of their weekly coupons for 40% off a single item.

Some day it would be fun to have extra Jo-Ann and Michael’s 40% off coupons and surprise fellow shoppers with them. I certainly can’t be the only one who wishes at the last minute that I remembered the dang coupon.

© “Annsights” Blog, 2010.