Never Underestimate the Power of an Offspring

A while ago WD Fyfe posted “Stuff I’ve Learned from Literature,” a collection of life’s lessons from the pages of best sellers such as “never volunteer for anything” as taught by The Hunger Games. In a comment I added “never underestimate the power of a woman” learned from “anything by Ian Fleming” to which he replied, “Including Chitty Chitty Bang Bang.” Of course my reference to Ian Fleming was to the Bond Girls of the 007 franchise but the famous children’s story turned movie has several strong female characters. Perhaps a Fleming trait?

CCBBYou didn’t know that the author of sixteen Bond, James Bond spy novels tossed in one book about a magical car? He did. Published right between You Only Live Twice and The Man with the Golden Gun it was the last book he wrote. Based on bedtime stories he told his son Casper, he wrote as he convalesced from a heart attack from which he never fully recovered.

That got me thinking which as you know not only do I have the time for but is also rarely a good thing yet often results in a blog post. Thank you Bill.

So … the world is full of talented authors and more than a few of them are both quite well known and are parents. So how many of the well-known parents have favored their children with tales that themselves became well known in spite of the parent not being well known for authoring children’s books. I found three. Four if you stretch a point.

The second to come to mind and first in the “I didn’t know that” list is Mr. Fleming’ famous tale of the famous car. The first author famous for a child’s story harkening back to his child to come to mind but on the “but what else did he do” list is A. A. Milne. If before this summer’s film release you didn’t know Christopher Robin was indeed Christopher Robin Milne and Pooh, Piglet, Eeyore, Kanga, Roo, and Tigger were the younger Milne’s childhood toys, you do now. But before the poem featuring Winnie-the-Pooh appeared in When We Were Very Young, the elder Milne was known as a playwright.

Also on the list is one known more for penning songs. Kelly Clarkson, former “American Idol” winner and singer/songwriter has also published two children’s books inspired by and featuring her daughter River Rose. Though not yet classics, who knows what we might be saying about them in fifty years.

PatTheBunnyAfter extensive research spanning at least 30 minutes, the closest I could come to uncovering another author who was known for one thing but exploded on to the scene with a book inspired by an offspring is the historian Dorothy Kuhnhardt, author of the 1965 winner for longest title, Twenty Days: A Narrative in Text and Pictures of the Assassination of Abraham Lincoln and the Twenty Days and Nights That Followed–The Nation in Mourning, the Long Trip Home to Springfield. The book she wrote as her gift to her daughter is more succinctly titled Pat the Bunny. I say this is a bit of a stretch to my search because although Kuhnhardt was a legitimate historian and author, the books she is better known for are the children’s volumes which she was putting out before the first bunny was patted but the patting was going on before she wrote the first book. It’s all very confusing and probably doesn’t belong on the list but I liked the book both as readee and reader.

There are many well-known authors who have written children’s books but were they inspired by stories they told their own children? Google doesn’t know about any so I guess not. If you do, share, but be sure to tell Google too. Can you tell Google anything?

 

Remotely Technological

If I had to describe myself I would avoid it. But if I couldn’t, depending on the context, I would say I am a technologically aware luddite. I’m not anti-progress, I’m just don’t care about it. Actually, most other things I care about more. Work had the necessary bells and whistles. Home had bells. And whistles. And too many of them sometimes.

I wouldn’t be the first to say we’re advancing in the wrong direction. Take a look at your wrist. If it’s not there, on the wrist of somebody you know is a smart watch doing all the things Dick Tracy’s did in the 40s looking remarkable like what Kojak wore in the 70s. In fact, if you’ve got a spare $500 laying around, you can get a brand new Dick Tracy watch.

I don’t. But what I do have laying around is a new remote that might finally be progressing to where I suggested they go six years ago. Look at the remote on the left. Ignoring those 4 shortcut buttons toward the bottom, there are only 10 buttons on it. That’s the voice remote for my Roku Stick.

Remotes

Compare that the to the voice remote for my cable with its 39 buttons which is actually 14 buttons less than the cable remote that sparked my post six years ago. Eventually we might get to power, volume, and the one that looks like a cross.

Oh, I didn’t get the more slender if not more fashion forward remote to join the entertainment streaming masses here in the 21st century. I just got tired spending $130 for cable. Like I said (as I said?), I’m not anti-progress. But I can be cheap.

My Day

I’ve never done a “day in my life” post and you should be thrilled. Unfortunately, all good things must end and your thrill just ended.

Today is not a just any old day in my life though. Today I went to the hospital. For the first 57 years of my life I never spent a night in a hospital unless I was working there. I never even had an outpatient procedure until I was 55. Wait. That’s not completely true. I was born in the fifties in the USA where childbirth was a minimum three day hospital stay. But after that, all my sleep was in my own bed or one of my choosing. Ok, that’s not 100% true either. There were some nights the U. S. Army insisted I spend away from my favorite pillow. But otherwise…

ADIL

Back to today. Don’t worry. It won’t be that traumatic an event. We’re just going for a simple procedure to open the fistula used for my dialysis. A fistula is a piece of artery and one of vein sewn together and pulled to just under the skin so the dialysis nurse can more easily jam a pair of needles roughly the size of a ball point pen into it. With all the puncturing and high velocity blood flow, the inside of the fistula scars and it slowly narrows, raising the pressure of the blood flow through it, decreasing the efficiency of the dialysis treatment. To correct this, because my fistula is in my upper arm, the surgeon will cut a small hole and enter the vein just below the fistula and thread a catheter through the vein into the fistula. This will be tracked by a scanner mounted over my arm transmitting images to a monitor above me. Once the physician finds the narrowed space he’ll pass a balloon into the catheter, up to the fistula and inflate it, pushing the occlusion against the vessel wall. (If that sounds like what you’ve heard as coronary angioplasty that’s because it’s the same procedure except on a fistula rather than a coronary artery.) While all this is happening I’ll be half asleep making incoherent conversation with the surgeon. It’s ok. He’s a friend.

MPH

Breakfast

I woke up a little after 6 showered (no, no pictures there), dressed comfortably, and got breakfast. This morning’s breakfast was two mycophenolate capsules and a sip of water since I will be anesthetized to the point of being half asleep. About 8:30 my sister came to take me to the hospital. She will be my accompaniment for the day since I will be anesthetized to the point of being half asleep. Because we’re Italian she brought food.

Traffic was light and we got to the hospital a few minutes after nine for my 9:30 report time. The nice lady in registration breezed me through and sent me off to the outpatient department with a stop at the lab for a quick blood draw. We arrived in the outpatient department at 9:45. By 10:05 I was changed into a hospital gown (still no pictures), had vitals recorded, an IV started in my left wrist, and left to wait for someone from the cath lab to come get me at 11:30. This was a boring 85 minutes and I read the paper. Did I mention it was boring?

 

Fistula_Before

Before

At 11:40 I got picked up for the procedure I already described, it went off without a hitch, and I went back to my room in the outpatient department where they said I looked great, go home.

Fistula_After

After

We went home, had lunch (a late lunch since it was then 2:30) my sister went home and because we’re Italian, I gave her food. Then I sat down and wrote this.

You know what? These things are really dull. Who came up with this idea anyway? In case you’re wondering, I am now just wonderful and when I go back to dialysis I’ll have the smoothest flowing blood of anyone there.

And you heard it here first!

More is Less

It is said everybody has a number. That might be a number of dollars to commit an otherwise distasteful physical act, or a number of times the car stalls before you break down and finance a new one, or perhaps the number of proposals before you finally say yes. For me it was the number of ways to prepare avocado. And the number is 73.

Seventy-three ways to use an avocado was the subject line on the email. A trusted food magazine’s daily email with a new recipe, a reasonably thought out kitchen hack, and some cutesy new way to do something you’d not previously considered like perhaps how to juice concord grapes at home, had with that one subject crossed the line into click bait. And I wasn’t biting.

It was one thing to occasionally sneak in 5 ways to use a watermelon or six flavors to make your coffee. I’d gladly scroll my way through a half dozen ways to spice up my morning caffeine dose. But everybody knows there are only three things you can do with an avocado – chunk into a summer salad, spread onto a wrap, or turn into guacamole. Anything else is a pathetic attempt to create relevance or justify buying a Tesla. See avocado oil.

CensoredWhile we’re talking about Facebook (I did say click bait), did you hear about the spat going on between Dutch tourism and the harbinger of all things questionable? Apparently the Visit Flanders tourist bureau would like to advertise their museums on the site but because the video they prepared includes shots of paintings by Rubens, the site usually not known for decorum refuses to allow the video to post because Rubens painted, er, nude models. It seems the number for Facebook is 1/4, as in the number of inches wide the shoestring covering the nipple of a spring breaker frolicking on the beach must be to make the post “decent.”

Another number that seems to be is 29. As in dollars spent to be free. Once Wayfair was the only site that blatantly barked “the shipping is free” in their ads but it wasn’t unless you spent a minimum amount, theirs being $50. Not to be outdone, etailer after etailer is including free shipping as one of the perks of shopping with them. It just doesn’t happen to be completely free. Shipping charges still show up at checkout sometimes with a little note saying how much more you have to buy in order to qualify for free shipping. Usually that number is 29 less whatever you have already committed to your purchase. Completely free. At least they tell you how much free costs, unlike the infomercial people who will double your order for free. Just pay a separate fee.

So, what’s your number?

McReally

I really like sandwiches. I’ve done that bit before so I’ll not bore you twice with it. Maybe even three times. Anyway, I like sandwiches. Today I came close to a sandwich trifecta. I made an egg and sausage on English muffin for breakfast, for lunch I had grilled chicken with provolone and zucchini on a hoagie roll, and I came close to grilling a hamburger for dinner. Fortunately I came to my senses and grilled a pork chop instead and actually got to use a knife and fork for one meal.

But that hamburger got me thinking about the sandwich world. Every restaurant has sandwiches. Maybe not the Top of the Marque type places but I can’t afford them so they don’t count. Yes I said that. If you want them to count, put them in your blog. Anyway…every restaurant has sandwiches but it took one that nobody wants to admit patronizing to have made it an institution. New York delis notwithstanding. Of course that is McDonald’s. And I’m not getting any consideration from them for this.

The hamburger thought that popped into my head when that hamburger got me thinking was the Quarter Pounder. You know McDonald’s recently upgraded the Quarter Pounder. No? You didn’t? That’s right. Nobody actually goes to McDonald’s so of course you didn’t. That’s ok. I did. They recently upgraded the Quarter Pounder and a couple of weeks ago I had one. I’m not going to sit in my kitchen and ponder if I would rather fire up the grill and burger it on my own or make the trip down the road to cop dinner. But if I’m on the road and hungry, and an arch topped sign beckons, I could do another one of those.

McRibAh but there’s more to the story. The hamburger thought that popped into my head when that hamburger got me thinking wasn’t just about hamburgers. Because one of the hamburgers that thought popped was the venerable Quarter Pounder, that particular hamburger got me to think about a non-hamburger sandwich from that chain, the McRib. Or you prefer: the McRoo (inaccurate though since it contains no kangaroo meat although rumors do persist) or the McTripe (actually quite accurate since tripe is one of its 70+ ingredients) (sorry) or even the McOhNoI’dNever which is probably also inaccurate because they sell between 30 and 50 million whenever they are released and I only get one) (really).

It’s true. I am a McRibber. I don’t know why but every fall I start looking for the signs that the everything but the kitchen sink sandwich is coming back because I have to have my McPig Fix. Fortunately, unlike certain potatoes chops, I can stop at one. Fortunately because even I will admit they are weird and they also have over 400 calories and you don’t keep a boyish figure like mine (yeah, right) by chowing down on a bagful of those things.

Yes, I really like sandwiches. Even the marginal ones.

One (Zucchini) Out Of Many

My last post I said I was going to do something I hadn’t done for a while, complain, which may have been somewhat inaccurate. This post runs to something I don’t do often enough and is surely quite accurate, be grateful. Not any old gratitude is it that I am expressing, but heartfelt thanks for my nearly 19 year old electric range, and my almost 29 year old eccentric daughter.

Most social media platforms are the most antisocial of platforms but I indulge for the special interest groups. Support for chronic illness or rare diseases is easier when you involve most of the planet. And hobbies or interests can be explored more easily when you spend most of your days in a smallish apartment by way of a connected phone, tablet, or laptop while plopped in a comfy chair. It is one of the latter groups of groups that reminded me of how good I must have it. Yes, I seem to be quite more fortunate than others not among those sharing medical burdens but of those who enjoy cookery to fill a few otherwise dull hours throughout the week.

Apparently one cannot really cook unless using a $500,000 range metering gas fed flames unless one instead is cooking over the open flameless heat of natural chuck charcoal or in the smoke of natural hardwoods in a specialized outdoor vessel. Or so those of my cooking aficionado collective extol in their various posts, complete with pictorial evidence.

Yesterday my daughter interrupted my trip to the local farmers market to bring me a basket of bounty from her backyard garden. Included in that were several zucchini, just the right amount for one of my favorite summer treats, zucchini fritters. Or zucchini cakes if you want to think more healthily, but just barely. And handful of readily available pantry ingredients and 60 minutes later we were sitting on the patio enjoying piping hot patties of grated zucchini dipped in ranch dressing enjoying the summer sun’s warmth and shine.

Thanks to my apartment complex provided and now aging electric stove I enjoyed a most wonderful repast on a most wonderful break with the most wonderful offspring. I’d include photographic evidence but we are it.

You’ll just have to take my word that I expressed the right amount of gratitude.

—-”

Bonus recipe! Real good zucchini fritters

1-1/2 pounds zucchini, shredded and drained.
1/2 large yellow onion, shredded
1/2 large red onion, shredded
1 or 2 or even 3 Italian banana pepper, chopped fine
1 egg, slightly beaten
2 tablespoons + 2 teaspoons kosher or sea salt
1/2 cup all purpose flour
1 tsp baking soda
2 teaspoons coarsely ground pepper
1-1/2 teaspoons paprika
1 tsp adobo powder (or chili powder)
1/2 tap garlic powder

Shred zucchini and onions. I use the shredding disk on my food processor. A real cooking hobbyist would use the large holes of a box grater. Place in a colander over a bowl, or to be like me into a salad spinner, and sprinkle 2 tablespoons of the salt and allow to sit for 10 to 25 minutes.

Mix flour, baking soda, the remaining salt, and the herbs in a small bowl.

Transfer the zucchini and onions to a clean tea towel and wring the devil out of them. Hopefully all the water will also get wrung out. If you were like me first take them for a spin in the salad spinner and then transfer them to the towel and squeeze with all your might.

Heat a large frying pan to medium high and add enough oil to cover the surface. (I use light olive oil but any normal oil will do. I’ve even used corn oil. But don’t get fancy and try to use coconut or avocado oil for goodness sake!) Assemble a cooling rack in a rimmed baking sheet and heat your oven to 250°F (120°C).

Plop the now abused zucchini and onions into a large bowl and fluff with a fork or some other fork like object. Mix in the chopped banana pepper and the beaten egg. (Thought I forgot about them, didn’t you?) Add the flour mixture in 3 installments a making sure each is completely incorporated.

Add a reasonable amount of the mixture to the hot pan and squish down to about 1/4 inch thickness. (I use a quarter cup for six 4 inch diameter fritters fried in two batches but do your own thing). Fry until golden brown, admit 3 to 5 minutes per side then transfer to the cooling rack. In between batches add oil if need to cover the bottom of the pan and allow to return to heat. Once all fritters are fried and resting nicely on the rack, pop the baking sheet into the oven for 15 minutes.

Eat and enjoy. Best shared with a friend or friendly relative.

One of Seven

I’m doing something today I don’t usually. I’m complaining. Yes, you’re right, I have expressed displeasure from time to time but this is different. This is head shaking, head scratching, “what did you expect” vent-age.

You can tell by how late it is that I wasn’t even certain about posting this, but clearly I have. If you don’t want to think of me as a complainer stop here and I’ll see you again on Thursday.

Yesterday’s paper featured an article, “Why aren’t wages rising?” It stated that although some of the brightest economists in the country can’t agree on the reason, they do agree that wages are not increasing any faster than the rate of inflation. Today’s paper had a headline that a local company’s employees are “set for raises” for the next three years after the company and a local union agreed to a new contract.

So salaries are going up, nobody is losing spending power, yet nobody, or at least not one headline writer, is happy.

Was I the only one to see this 60 years ago? There used to be a time wages were commensurate with results. Now they are time released. Ever year everybody gets more money for doing the same work they did the year before. The widget maker doesn’t make more widgets for the widget company to sell yet the widget maker makes more money from the widget company. The widget company can’t report to the widget investors they are turning a smaller profit because they are spending more money paying the widget makers so they raise the price on widgets. Now that the price of widgets is up, everybody who buys a widget, including the widget makers, go to their respective companies and say next year they will need bigger raises, inflation isn’t making their dollar go as far. The next year the companies, including the widget company, increase workers’ salaries, sometimes by predetermined, contracted amounts. Again there are no more widgets to sell to offset the increased expense so again the price of widgets goes up. And the snowball continues its run downhill.

I never have and never will understand how people believe it is their right to get more for doing no more. I also never have understood and never will understand how the same people upon receiving this windfall instead of voluntarily sharing their increase with their church or synagogue or charity or charities of their choices complain about it being not enough while simultaneously complaining about others getting increases for not doing anything to deserve them. The price of everything keeps getting more and more expensive they say.

NoMoreMooneySo wages aren’t going up but are going up just not enough because they only go up as much as necessary to keep with inflation but that’s not enough because everybody else gets more too.  It won’t end. It can’t end. For it to end everybody has to simultaneously say they want no more increases, even minimal cost of living increases. You can’t do it piece meal because somebody will (with a capital WILL) break the chain and not give back. And you can’t just rely on people. You need industry, large and small companies, profit based and non for profits to agree to no increase fees or prices except for bona fide improvements. Wages will go up in response to increases in output and profits will go up when true efficiencies result in lower expenses. Won’t happen. Can happen but won’t. Too many people have to make the right choice. The right choice never made anybody anything for nothing.

Greed is one of the seven deadlies, isn’t it?

Step 4: The List

We are making progress. Tuesday afternoon I received a call from the transplant center at the hospital that the test results are in, the clearances have been reviewed, the committee has met, and I can now say I am officially sick enough to need a new kidney if one can be found for me. Have a seat, pour your favorite beverage, and I’ll tell you the next chapter of this story.

Saying I am sick enough for a transplant is really not accurate and was not the point of three months of testing. We knew the level of my sickness of those organs the first time they stuck a pair of needles into my arm, attached the other ends to a dialysis machine, and said it will get easier over time. They were, they still are, and it hasn’t yet so it probably won’t. It won’t.

The point of the tests, the examinations, and the reviews was to see if I am healthy and strong enough to withstand the surgery, recovery and follow-up to replace those pieces of mine that zipped right on passed middle age outpacing the rest of me to done for. And we discovered and now have documentation that I am. Er, healthy and strong (sort of), not yet done for.

Now we just have to find a replacement for those pesky, unproductive pods. Unlike other parts of me that have been unceremoniously replaced, there aren’t any replacements for a kidney other than another kidney. That means finding somebody who is done using his or hers or someone who is ready to part with one of the two that come as standard equipment in homo sapiens.

And now we come to the point of Step 4. The List. People, including me (well, I’m people too), refer to The List. There really is no single, all encompassing, first to last list. If you want to think of a list, it would more appropriate to think of each donated organ having its own list. When a person is accepted into the program and begins waiting for an organ, his or her matching criteria is placed into a database. When an organ becomes available, the organ’s criteria is compared to the database and all those people whose needs match the offered organ are retrieved. With some exceptions they are retrieved in the order they were entered into the system. Thus, The List for that organ.

There are exceptions to being positioned on the list from the order a person entered the system. Neonatal and pediatric patients are given some preference and people in need of a transplant who had earlier in their lives donated an organ receive placement preference.

When my blood was drawn in April at that first test in the transplant center, there were already over 114,000 people waiting for an organ transplant in the United States. When I became approved on Tuesday, 143 other people joined me being added to The List. About 95 transplants were performed that day and 20 people died waiting. The List grew by about 3,600 since April.

A recent poll revealed that 95% of people support organ donation but only 54% have ever signed up to be a donor. Unfortunately, only 3% of deaths result in actual available organs appropriate for transplantation. And so, the list grows. I could wait for 3 to 5 years until I make it to the top of an organ’s list.

There is a way off the list without dying or becoming too sick that a transplant’s benefits no longer outweigh the risks. The living donor. Kidneys and portions of livers can be donated by live individuals directed for a specific recipient. (Some people actually make altruistic donations that enter the general pool and are designated to a recipient as a deceased donor organ would be.) Under very rare circumstances, lung, pancreas and intestine live donations may be possible. Living uterus donations are undergoing clinical trials.

Living donors account for about a third of kidneys transplanted in the United States. Kidneys from live donors not only mean a faster transplant for the recipient but a more successful transplant.

Already four people have stepped forward and asked about making a living donation of a kidney for me. Their evaluations will begin next month and can take two to six months to complete. I’ll take you along that side trip as we make this stop on my journey. That way you’ll know what a potential living organ has to go through.

Just in case.

——

Related posts

First Steps (Feb. 15, 2018)
The Next Step (March 15, 2018)
The Journey Continues (April 16, 2018)
More Steps (May 31, 2018)

 

Stop, Thief!

I bought a book to read and when I read a book I start at the beginning. The very beginning. Prefaces, forwards, introductions acknowledgements, dedications. I also don’t finish until I get to the end if there should be an afterward. (After words?) If is written I will read it.

This particular book I bought, and after reading the forward I’m so glad I did. I say again, and will stress, I bought this book. With money. American made money in an American book store. Yes there are some bookstores left and I still frequent and patronize them.

I’m not in the habit of stealing books. At least I didn’t think so. Apparently this particular author thought differently. In his preface, his 22 page preface, he says, “what happens in libraries in the U.S. is a theft of services on the same scale as the enslavement of blacks.” A strong sentiment that. It was said, er printed, in reference to authors receiving a single royalty for each book bought by a library though lent to “everybody with a library card … twenty-six times in one year, fifty-two times in two years.” Personally I’m glad he expanded that thought just in case my ability to master multiplication failed me at that critical moment.

LibraryIs borrowing a book from a library stealing? I hadn’t thought about it. If it is I am guilty of it hundreds of times over. Of course many of those times were the first time I had read a particular author and it was that exposure that led me to buy hard or electronic copies of his or her other works. But theft of the first book is still theft I suppose. To that unnamed author I apologize and repent. I suppose I can send him a few bucks in restitution although I don’t recall ever borrowing one of his books from the library. In fact, I don’t think I ever saw one of his books in the library but that’s a different story.

He can use those dollars to pay for the paper he probably read at the diner, the magazine he perused at the doctor’s office, the cable fee for the game recap he watched at the barbershop, or the medical advice he asked me for at last year’s Fourth of July picnic. Ok, it wasn’t last year but that really did make a nice flow, don’t you think?

I suppose he was right in his criticism of the lending library system and he has the right to voice said criticism. And what better way. Really. In a book that somebody might have gotten out of library. That will teach them for sure. If they bothered to read the preface.

I have the right to be insulted by his criticism and to express my dismay at being insulted. I bought that book. At full retail. And waded through it even after I was so insulted 17 pages into it. I could have shown him and not finished the book (or even the preface since I still had 5 pages of that to get through) but to be honest I already paid for the book and he surely spent the royalty so why not get my money’s worth out of it.

Now if I can just figure out a way to get my money’s worth out of it.

 

Shop With An Opp, Err, App

Just one blog post ago I said how sometimes I can appreciate some mobile based applications like the daily paper. Sometimes I am quite content with the old fashion ways like the Sunday paper. Today I tried a new phone app and I might not ever go back to my previous routine. Today I shopped, scanned, and bagged my way through the grocery store.

Ok, I know some of you are already saying that you don’t even want to use the self-checkout. “If I wanted to check out groceries I would have gotten a job at the grocery store!” and “I don’t see anybody giving out discounts for doing their job!” are just a couple of the reasons I’ve heard people give for not embracing self-checkout. Sometimes while in line for self-checkout. And that’s fine. As far as I know, no store has demanded that you have to check yourself out. At least not ones with a brick and mortar presence. They still have cashiers manning the scanner and till and you are welcome to use those lanes if you want somebody else to do the hard work.

I sometimes had problems with self-checkout at the grocery store. Often it was because of a person attempting to use the self-checkout who had difficulty completing the basic “pass bar code over scanner, put on belt or in bag” motion. Rarely was it the technology itself although the express, 12 items or less, self-checkout registers never understood that I wanted to use my own bag even though they gave me that option at the start of the process. A human was always able to provide some intervention and I moved right along.

The “Scan, Pay, and Go” option as my local market has dubbed the service, cuts the most annoying of the limitations of the self-checkout and still gives me the opportunity to shop in non-contact bliss. The process is simple. You download an app to your smart phone or use a provided hand held scanner. Instead of just placing an item into your cart, you scan the product’s bar code and put it into bag in your cart. And you continue through the store completing your shopping list like so. For security reasons you don’t put any payment information into the app and you pay at the end of the shopping experience. At the checkout area you proceed to an area just for the “Scan, Pay, and Go” crowd and scan the bar code on to the checkout stand which retrieves your order. You are given the option to redeem coupons and select payment method, then off you go.

It might not be for everybody. Some people might want even more automation. But for an old guy like me, it’s nice to have done something relevant to the 21st century. Finally.

I can’t wait till next week’s shipping trip.