Menagerie à Trois: Almost As Much Fun As It Sounds

We gotta get out of this place…

…if it’s the last thing we ever do.

The Animals-1965

You all remember Max . Our 90 pound multi-breed will greet you at the door with his Irish Wolf Hound-like smile, a loud but friendly bark, and a demand to be loved. He is Barb’s shadow, though happiest when I am giving him his nightly chin rub. When I do, his swishing tail cools the bedroom like a powerful Casablanca fan. Phoebe, our featherweight kitten, is much less likely to be seen when you stop by to visit, but for Barb and I she is a rolling ball of fluff who loves a good tummy massage and racing us up the staircase. Although Max’s aging joints will love living in a ranch home and Phoebe the speed burner might hate it, the two are our Model U.N. picture of peaceful coexistence.

This Thanksgiving our weekend has been livened up by a visitor primed to end our domestic tranquility. With Laury travelling for the holiday, we have stepped in under the provisions of the “Forever Plan” to baby sit Charlie, Laury’s six year old Havanese puppy. Charlie was Laury’s loving companion through her years in New York City and transition back to Chicago, and is always a welcome visitor in our home.

The American Kennel club describes the Havanese breed as ” a small, sturdy dog of immense charm”. Charlie is indeed small, is indeed sturdy, and does his exuberant best to demonstrate immense charm. He can bounce high off any floor or wall, gobble up cat food faster than Phoebe can come out of hiding, and his playfulness has helped Max remember what it was like to be a doggie adolescent again. Like all dogs, he loves Barb to death and tolerates me as necessary. He comes equipped with little blue pills for us to slather in peanut better and give him nightly (the pills are for behavior, not for the other blue pill type of problem,) as well as a limited supply of Valium. The Valium is to be ingested when he demonstrates too much “Crazy Havanese Time”, but the instructions Laury left were unclear. We are not sure if we are supposed to give Charlie the Valium or take it ourselves. Fortunately, Charlie was on a leash when a magnificent looking coyote trotted across our front yard yesterday; if not, Charlie might have waggled over to say “Hi!” and become an excellent appetizer.

Laury will be picking up her pooch later today, ending our Thanksgiving holiday. But before the weekend closes, let me give thanks. I am blessed with a loving wife and healthy, growing, family. Nothing brings me greater joy. I am thankful for the professional skills and opportunities both Barb and I have that allow us to be of service to our community. I celebrate the roof over our heads, and the fun we will have doing it all over again while building our empty nest home. And I am grateful and proud that I have been able to chronicle it all in these posts, and that so many readers have gotten to know us and say “I didn’t know you could do that!”

In closing, an entertainment note for our local readers. “We Gotta Get Out of This Place”, the big hit for The Animals, was written by the Brill Building songwriting team of Barry Mann and Cynthia Weil. Their story is a part of the Carole King musical “Beautiful”, which is just coming to town. If you love music, King, or just a good time, you must see this show!

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We Want To Be On HGTV Too!

Shiny happy people…

…holding hands.

R.E.M., 1991

I stepped on to the elliptical at the health club, turned on my iTunes, and was about to slip on my headphones when I glanced at the television sets hanging on the front wall. A game show on the left, “The View” on the right, but in the middle–there they were. The damn Property Brothers. Those identical twins, Jonathan and Drew Scott, who buy and remodel homes on HGTV. Along with other HGTV show hosts Chip and Joanna who fix, Tarek and Christina who flip, and Hilary and David who love and list, their faces beam from the TVs in our home morning til night, and if Barb can’t sleep, overnight too. And when no one is remodeling, HGTV has its House Hunters, National and International, looking out for perfect properties. Reality redux.

The programs all have the same basic structure. Introduce a telegenic young pair, plus or minus a few kids, and have the hosts promise to solve some particular housing crisis the couple is facing. Start the project optimistically but run into a hidden obstacle or unexpected expense. Calm the worried homeowner/houseseeker then find an ingenious solution to the problem. Smiles and a champagne toast by the end of the hour. One formula, ten different TV shows!

Now it is OUR turn. I propose a 13 episode HGTV series chronicling The Raff Construction Project. Let’s name the show “Build It or Blow It”. Barb looks great on camera, I look OK on camera, and we can spruce up the general contractor and architect. We’ll use a local couple such as Eric and Cathy for hosts.

Yes, we started the actual project months ago and will have to “recreate” some of the earlier aspects for the camera, but I suspect most HGTV shows use a bit of play acting. We can “enrich” the past, too. All that time spent picking out windows? Let’s spice it up with a visit to a window factory, and toss in an on-screen table saw “incident”. Barb can use her hand therapy experience to perform an emergency thumb re-attachment. Gushing blood and sky-rocketing ratings!

Moving forward, I envision a curmudgeonly pipe smoking plumber with a Yankee accent (fire hazard), a wise-cracking all female painting crew (sexist), and a talented Old World carpenter (expensive). There will be tense scenes when we discover one-coat paint doesn’t cover in one coat and half-gallon toilets do half the job. Imagine the suspense when the village building inspector, tape measure in hand, checks to be sure the electrical outlet is at least the required minimum distance from the bathtub. With the right music on the sound track that one might be good to enough to keep viewers hanging as we go to commercial break.

Our big “do or die” moment in the penultimate episode? It has to be the Home Owners Association deciding our roof shingles are an unsuitable style for the neighborhood. Can we replace them and still stay on budget? Will this send us to the poor house? Don’t worry, it will all be resolved just in time for the grand finale.

So that’s the show. I just have one question. Anyone know anyone who knows anyone at HGTV? If you do, can you talk them into producing “Build It or Blow It”? If not, I’ll settle for one of the Property Brothers’ autographs!

———–

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Getting Serious about a Bad Medicare Recommendation

Frank Zappa and the Mothers
Were at the best place around

In Memory of Frank Zappa

Prostate Cancer Victim

Yes, we got a site permit. Yes, a construction fence is up, though I have not seen it yet, and by the time I get to our lot it may be buried by snow. But that is all the update on the house you are going to get today. It is soapbox time. For those of you who don’t like medical news, cover your eyes or skip to another blog, but this pathologist needs to unload!

The Centers for Medicare & Medicaid Services (CMS) is the federal agency that, you guessed it, runs Medicare. Part of what they do is establish “quality” measures and review bills and electronic medical records to determine how well physicians are following in line with these measures. For the last few years, compliance with these measures has had an effect on how much Medicare pays physicians for patient treatment, and this impact on reimbursement is scheduled to grow over the next few years, with penalties for docs who don’t keep on the straight and narrow. So these measure can have an impact on how doctors practice.

Now you all know I look at a lot of prostate biopsies in my practice, and that my dad died of prostate cancer, and that I run every year to raise money for prostate cancer awareness. So prostate cancer is a big deal to me. Most of the prostate cancers that I diagnose are a result of a man having an increased Prostate Specific Antigen (PSA) blood test in their primary doctors office and being referred to a urologist for evaluation and triage with such newer tests as the PHI test or MRI of the prostate. Sometimes the triage leads to a prostate biopsy. Close to half of the men who have a biopsy sent to us wind up having prostate cancer diagnosed. The goal of all this is to detect men with prostate cancers that are high grade, bad actors that have the ability to spread, cause symptoms, and shorten the patient’s life. We want to see those men treated with therapies such as surgery, radiation, hormones or newer immune therapies in an attempt to improve their lifespan and quality of life. We also detect a lot of men with prostate cancers that look less aggressive and might not have such a significant impact. In the past, most of these low aggression tumor patients also received treatment such as radiation or surgery, but now, with better tools that look into the actual genetic (DNA or RNA) makeup of the tumor, and with better understanding of which tumors are likely to spread, many men are placed on “active surveillance.” They are monitored closely by their urologist, but unless there is evidence that the tumor has changed and become more aggressive, they avoid treatment and any related side effects.

Still following me? Well, in the last few years, there has been review of long term data, much from outside the USA and all of it is from before genetic markers were available and before “active surveillance” was an established treatment plan. The data suggested that PSA testing is a lousy way to detect prostate cancer and leads to too many men having too much treatment. Because of these studies, in 2012 the United States Preventive Services Task Force (whew) recommended AGAINST PSA screening. So fewer men have been getting PSA testing, or have been skipping a few years of testing, and guess what? We now see more men with the nasty acting prostate cancers than we did five or ten year ago. It seems to us here in the lab (and to urologists and pathologists around the country) that less PSA screening=worse outcomes.

Now remember those CMS quality measures we were talking about a few paragraphs above? Well, the CMS has just released a new proposed quality measure. You guessed it. They are proposing that NOT doing PSA testing is better quality. So your doc, or your dad’s doc, or your husband’s doc will get paid more for NOT doing PSA testing on their patients. Yes, I know it is not a perfect test. It is not appropriate in certain age groups. But with logical triage of patients with abnormal PSA results, and then logical treatment or surveillance of men in whom prostate cancer is diagnosed, PSA testing can lead to a strong, positive, impact on the male population. I am a believer. I know that I will keep having my PSA checked–and so should you!

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What Looked Like a Step Forward Becomes a Step Back

I’m fixing a hole…

…were the rain gets in.

The Beatles, 1967

First some clean up from our last blog post. A mea culpa is in order. In this world of instant gratification, I had assumed that since I had ordered my razor blades three weeks ago, they must have arrived already. I assumed that I remembered placing them on the bathroom counter. I was so sure that they had been there, that Barb assumed she had thrown them out by mistake. Well, we all know about what assumed stands for. Yep, that box in the picture is the package that came from Harry’s Razors, not last week, but yesterday. All my shiny new blades. I just have to remember that not everything I order gets delivered the next day. The world is not all Amazon Prime!

And the house cannot be built on an Amazon Prime schedule either. You long time readers of our construction journey may remember all those blog posts about the Bank That Remains Nameless, all the delays in getting the financing settled. You know, the problems I even wrote a song about? Well no, that problem hasn’t recurred. But the ~~Texas~~ Village Two Step has reared its head once again. What is driving me wild today? Permits! Email number one from the village “We will issue the site permit today.” Email number two from the village “No we won’t.” Some minor changes in the plan had been requested by the village engineer. Our architect complied, but the submitted PDF indicating the changes isn’t sufficient for issuing the permit, at least not until 5 hard copies of the revised plan are also received. Grrrr. I feel like slapping on a Pancho Villa Movember mustache, commandeering a bulldozer and screaming “PERMITS? WE DON’T NEED NO STINKING PERMITS.”*

Weather may start to become an issue. Architect/Builder Team assure us that we still have plenty of time to dig a hole and pour concrete before any freeze, and once that is done, neither cold, nor wind, nor snow shall keep them from completion of their appointed rounds. I appreciate the confidence, but Barb and I are not sure we are true believers. How about our loyal readers? Leave us a comment, let us know when you think the house will be “substantially complete.” Maybe we can think of a prize for the reader whose prediction is closest tot he actual date. Remember, the Comment Box may lay below the row of ads. Facebook registration is still required to post comments,,,my apologies!

*with apologies to “The Treasure of the Sierra Madre”, 1948.

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Why a Good Wife is Better than a Pack of Razor Blades

Look through any window…

…what do you see?

The Hollies, 1965

Sunday morning in the Raff home.

Me: I can’t find the new razor blades I ordered on line. I am pretty sure they came last week.

Barb: Where did you look?

Me: Everywhere.

Sunday evening, bed time.

Barb: Why did you order razor blades on line?

Me: I tried a sampler set and they were pretty good. And they are a lot cheaper than the ones I can buy at the drug store, so I can save some money.

Barb: Could they have been in a little brown box on the bathroom counter?

Me: Yea, maybe.

Barb: Oops. I think maybe when I was cleaning last week I threw that box out.

Me: I guess I didn’t save any money then!

So we lost a little cash there. But believe me, Barb more than made up for it earlier in the day. The scene was a north suburban Starbucks after the Bear game, a sit-down with our builder and architect. The construction plans are in to the village for permits, but we had some tweaking to do. Our foursome claimed a large table, spread out a new, clean, copy of the plans, sipped our drinks out of the plain red holiday cups, and got to work. First came the easy part, changing the location of a few light fixtures, moving a ceiling fan, shrinking one window by a few inches and enlarging two others by the same amount. At this stage, changes like that come with the mere flick of the architect’s marking pen. He didn’t agree with every one of our changes, but as we all know, this is going to be OUR house!

Then came the paper work. And paper work at this stage of the game means discussing money. The current issue was the cost of windows. The builder had obtained 3 quotes, all of which were significantly higher than the allowance in the original specifications we signed. Part of the discrepancy was explainable by those pernicious muntins we had added in. They don’t come cheap and were not part of our original discussions, so we understood the added price tag. The rest of the increase in cost seemed more nebulous to us. And Barb was not afraid to say so. It took patience, persistence, and all her power of persuasion, but eventually the builder relented on the rest of the add-on cost and offered a credit to cover it. He may not have been convinced that we were right, but he was convinced he didn’t want to do further battle with Barb over it! Believe me, Barb saved us the cost of a lifetime of razor blades! No need for me to skimp on shaving and grow a Movember beard.

The meeting didn’t end until I had handed over our second payment, but I was prepared for that. It is amazing how much money we have put out, and not even a hole in the ground to show for it. But we are confident (fingers crossed, knock on wood) that things will be progressing smoothly before the Chicago winter hits. Look for a bulldozer, coming soon, to a neighborhood near you!

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Food for Thought–37 Years of a Great Wife and Great Chicago Restaurants

Food glorious food…

…hot sausage and mustard

Oliver!–Lionel Bart, 1960

Not much on the housing front this week, but today is a special day. Barb and I are celebrating our wedding anniversary! We have been married since 1978, and for thirty seven years we have used our anniversary as a chance to indulge ourselves. Travel (for the family), jewelry (his or hers), and a designer purse or two (all hers). But those of you who know us best know that we like nothing better than sampling Chicago’s fine restaurants. Looking back over our anniversary dinners is our personal timeline through the chefs and trends that have been earning their Mobil stripes and Michelin stars here.

We didn’t start out as foodies! Our first favorite restaurant was the Gino’s East Pizza. The original one on Superior, not the less stellar suburban outposts. Our admiration of Gino’s started on our first date, a polo game at the Chicago Armory followed by deep dish cheese pizza. It’s a good thing Barb liked the pizza, she was less than thrilled with watching polo. An afternoon wedding at the Drake Hotel meant we were close enough, and hungry enough, for dinner at Gino’s on our wedding night, and we followed that up with anniversary pizzas through the next several years.

When we finally broke the Gino’s streak, it was to return to the Drake for a fifth anniversary dinner at the Cape Cod Room, one of Chicago’s longest lasting fine restaurants. It was a little old and creaky way back then in 1983, and I hear it is getting little older and creakier, but it will go on forever, just like our marriage. Hey, we are getting older and creakier too!

Over the next 30 years, Chicago Magazine has been our guide and directory for Anniversary Night. If a place was at the top of the Best Restaurant List, we had to check it out. Booth One at the Pump Room. Traditional French cuisine from the late Jean Banchet at Les Francais. Charlie Trotter, Graham Elliot, Carlos, Jackie, Jimmy and Yoshi, you name the celebrity chef, we toasted our anniversary at their place. From airborne Everest to subterranean Les Nomades we indulged and always found room for dessert. Tru and Ria were good, Trump Tower’s Sixteen, and the Belden Stratford’s Ambria were better. There were a few stumbles along the way; Grace didn’t get our blessing and we weren’t too surprised when L2O sunk.

Most special of all? Let’s go back to the early 2000’s. We read the great reviews for a place called Trio in the north suburbs. An anniversary dinner without the long drive downtown, a double treat for us. We loved the meal, but I said to Barb that “this chef is a little too avant-garde for conservative Evanston. I hope he makes it, but I predict he doesn’t last too long here.” I was right, sort of. Within a few years that young chef, a guy by the name of Grant Achatz, had left Evanston behind and had cooked up Alinea. For an anniversary dinner or any other reason you can think of, there is nothing like Alinea. And Halsted Street might not be as close to home for us as Evanston, but it is still a lot closer than the Loop!

What’s on tap for Year 37? If you see us at Brindille Saturday night, buy us a drink! And Barb, the restaurants have been great, but they have only been special because I have been there with you. Happy anniversary, Babe!

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photo credit: Tommy’s Chili Dog via photopin (license)

First “Doctors without Borders”, Now “Pathologists without Houses”

All in all it’s just…

…another brick in the wall

Pink Floyd–1979

WARNING–PARODY ALERT–WARNING–PARODY ALERT–WARNING

(The following script for a never recorded television advertisement for “Pathologists without Houses” was discovered in a drainage ditch somewhere in Chicagoland.)

Narrator speaking in hushed tones with an upper class British accent:

This is a lot in suburban Chicago. Its measurements and exact location are unimportant. What we observe is that it is empty, save for the grass and wildflowers that grow naturally in this semi-temperate climate. Adjacent to it are homes, roads, a large pond. But whilst the surrounds are teeming with life, this lot lays unimproved, uninhabited, and defenseless as another winter creeps its way into the suburban milieu. Excavation and concrete may be in the future, but for today they are held in abeyance, hostage to permits and licenses and laborers with the skill and desire to exercise their trade in the the hinterlands surrounding the great metropolis.

Narrator continues:

These are the homesteaders, a pathologist, a therapist, who seek to tame this square of Midwest savannah. Their weapons are many, but cause no harm. Stone and Sub-Zero, muntins and Maytag, windows and Wolf. Choices must be made, the totality of the task assessed and each decision correctly fitted into the jigsaw puzzle that will produce order from chaos, a home on this virgin land that was once graced by golf balls and pitching wedges. For this will be their territory, the center point of their life and the spot their brood can return to. To live in harmony with the surrounding tribes, and to defend against the wild animals that roam.

Further Narration:

Not all the beasts are wild though. For the couple has domestic creatures in their household. A canine beast of burden that delivers the news of the day through blinding blizzards and swirling Sirocco. A feline that dedicates her life to preserving the wealth of the clan by spreading her fur across all pieces of furniture large and small, marking them with the family crest. Loyal to the core, these quadrupeds have earned their spot in the home.

But how is this house to become a reality? “Pathologists without Houses” seeks your help. We ask for no funding. We challenge the loyal reader to continue to follow along, and to spread the word. You can show your support of ‘Pathologists without Houses” in the following ways:

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Five Things We Get From Our Parents

Isn’t it ironic…

…don’t you think?

Alanis Morissette-1995

There is a bit of hoopla this year about the 20th anniversary of the release of “Jagged Little Pill,” the Alanis Morisssette album that, at least for awhile, turned the young singer-songwriter into a superstar. Laury was 9 at the time and wanted to buy the album, featuring the song “You Oughta Know”, but Barb and I objected. The lyrics were even more blatantly sexual than the usual pop music of the time. In a bit of irony, “You Oughta Know” reached our car CD player anyway, by means of the “1996 Grammy Award Nominees” CD. Alanis got her Grammys, and Laury got her song on her dad’s CD player. I hope Alanis has turned out OK, I know Laury has.

As parents we try to bring up our kids in a way that will make them safe and, we hope, reflect who and what we are. In some places and times this becomes impossible, and as Chicagoans and most of the country have read this week, the results can be tragic. But I am a little pensive this morning, thinking about just what got passed from generation to generation, l’dor v’ v’dor.

Physical appearance–I look in the mirror every morning and see Dad staring back at me. The physical resemblance is now striking. I am taller and a bit huskier, but as far as facial features and hair color, I have become the man my father was at this stage in his life. Michael is following our pathway too. A very dominant Y chromosome.
A sense of commitment–I know that Dad woke every morning at 4:10 to make the journey via CTA bus and the El to his white color job, arriving at by 7 a.m on the dot. No complaints, it is just what he did 6 and occasionally 7 days a week. I follow that almost obsessive pattern, but at least I have modified it to 5 days a week at 5:05. And no need to wait outside in the rain or snow at a bus stop. Dad never learned to drive, I sure as hell did!
Love for a good read–There are three reading habits I picked up from Dad. Time Magazine every week (something I still do), Ellery Queen Mystery Magazine every month (something I fear I have grown away from), and a good novel anytime (something I still love.) Right now I am in the middle of three novels–a Joseph Finder audio CD in the car, a Daniel Silva hardcopy on my nightstand, and “Day of Atonement” on my Kindle for a book club I am joining. Dad would be proud.
Love of baseball–The only sport that Dad enjoyed watching. A love he passed to me, a love I have passed to Michael. Dad never saw a championship, I got mine ten years ago, Michael’s may be right around the corner.
Our lifespan–OK, this one is not precise. But we know that genetics do play a role in how long we will be around. And here is the irony. Dad died from widely metastatic prostate cancer and, quite coincidentally, I am spending this part of my professional career diagnosing and aiding the treatment of men with the same disease. I get my annual PSA, I run and raise money for Prostate Cancer Awareness, I gave up red meat (right, yeah, how long did that one last?) Hopefully the good karma will help me combat any bad gene juju that may have gotten passed down the line.

Not much on the house…signed a few papers for the Homeowners Association and now they have officially blessed us. I suppose they used Holy Water from the pond next to the lot. May the Good Lord have us digging before the pond becomes an ice rink.

OK–we got somber and introspective today. Have a great weekend and I promise lots of laughs by Monday!

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This Blog is Based on True Events–Really!

True colors are beautiful…
…Like a rainbow

Cyndi Lauper–1986

Been to a movie lately? It seems every time Barb and I go to the show, the film has opened with some variation of the “Based on True Events” tag. I interpret the phrase to mean the screenwriter has taken one fact, factoid, or grain of truth (Gary Powers was shot down), hung a lot of window dressing on it and voila, Bridge of Spies. And we see it on TV as well, with the Netlix show Narcos “based on true events” in the battle of the DEA against Colombian drug kingpin Pablo Escobar. It’s not that I don’t believe the story, it’s just that I know life doesn’t have the convenient start, middle and end that makes up a good TV season arc. But it is fun during the closing credits when we see photographs of the real Powers or the real Escobar and say “Wow, Wagner Moura looks just like Pablo!”

Anyway, I assure you that everything (well, almost everything) you read here is based on a true event. The event may have occurred entirely in my own mind, but that doesn’t make it any less real, does it? In real life, it is easy to tell when I am telling tales out of whole cloth since I have a terrible poker face. One look at me and you will know if I have 4 aces or I am bluffing. Or if I am pissed off. I can’t hide my feelings or emotions. Just ask some of my recent tennis partners. On this blog, you will just have to trust that I am telling the truth!

On to house building. The Homeowners Association Representative says “Go for it.” The builder and architect say “Go for it.” So we are going to go for it. With 10 detailed pages of architectural drawings we are submitting our plans to the village for our construction permit. If the village inspectors are quick about it, and the plans pass muster, we may have a hole dug and concrete poured before the ground freezes over. The predicted globally warmed mild winter should help delay the freeze. So we are not quite on schedule, but at least not hideously behind.

Tuesday Barb, the architect and builder visited the window factory. Sounds fun, right? The brand and style of window are now chosen, but no decision yet on window trim color. As to the stone, stucco and roof, I could say we have finalized a palette, but you would know I was lying, wouldn’t you?

A little housekeeping of a different nature. Subscriptions are easy with the box below, and you do want to subscribe so you can always be the first to know of a new blog. But some of you are having trouble leaving comments. Two points on that. First, the Comment Box is usually BELOW the row of ads that appear at the end of the blog (Sorry, I have no control over the ads.) Second, some web filters, such as Barracuda, allow the blog to be read, but don’t allow the Comment Box to be seen. This is a problem particularly for people reading at work (thank you for doing that) where you may be behind corporate IT filters. If that happens and you want to leave a comment, try logging in again from home. Or you can always let me know what you think by email at les.raff@post.com. Or leave your thoughts at the brand new “Downsize, Maybe” Facebook page.

And that is the truth…I swear to it.

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If You are A Parent, or Have Ever Had One–The Forever Plan is for You

And don’t it seem like a long time…

…seem like a long time…

…seem like a long, long time.

Rod Stewart–1971

I am not sure if it quite qualifies as my favorite album, but Mod Rod’s masterpiece is the only recording I have ever bought in both the vinyl and CD versions. The album lays mouldering in a box in the basement (note to self–need to purge basement miscellaneous prior to move), but I still pull out the CD every once in a while. And I believe “Maggie May” may be the most played song on my playlist, just edging out “Sultans of Swing”.

Songs aren’t the only thing that lives forever. This weekend Barb and I upgraded our phones. Sunday night at a family dinner celebrating our anniversary, our 29 year old daughter Laury, an experienced math teacher, living in the city for years, asked if she was still included on our plan. She has taken the phone carrier’s “Family Plan” one step further and created “The Forever Plan.” With the “Forever Plan” some things just go on and on. Here are the features of the “Forever Plan.”

Cell phone charges. The “Forever Plan” state the adult child’s iPhone charges must be paid for on the parent’s cell phone plan long as a potential carrier exists. This does not mean aforementioned child is under obligation to ever call parents.
Health insurance. The Affordable Care Act has made this automatic on parent’s policies until the child hits age 26. With the “Forever Plan” there is no limit. Your adult children can be part of your plan until you hit Medicare age.
Auto Insurance. Your child lives in the city and parks on the street, but under the “Forever Plan” you tell your insurance agent they still live in your suburban home and park in the garage. Lower premiums, but of course they are paid by the parents.
Pet services. Parents must always be available to watch the dog, cat, parakeet or gold fish, no questions asked. Must also be available to respond to “The dog ate the Halloween candy. What do I do?” question at short notice.
Emergency Road Service. Parents must always be available to assist at the site of a dead battery or overheated radiator. At a recent party, two sets of parents were obliged to interrupt there evening to respond to their adult children on this one. We are actually pretty proud that last time that Laury had a dead battery she did NOT call us.
Home Repair Service. Under the “Forever Plan” washing machines are fixed, TV sets installed and toilets plunged. On repairs taking over 3 hours, the parent will bill the child for a large margherita pizza.
Grandchild care. Ok, we would pay for the privilege of this one!

By the way, no insurance agent will sell you the “Forever Plan.” Why do parents do all this? We do it because we love our kids, the adults they have grown into and partnered with, and the choices they have made. If the plan was for sale, the premium would of course be priceless!

Now on to the home building. Barb is visiting a window showroom with the architect today. She will get to see the muntins first hand. For those of you unfamiliar with our muntin situation, here is a look back. Still not in for permits, but we hope to have a hole in the ground before the first frost. Anyone betting against us?

Kudos and Attaboy to buddy Roger, the only reader to correctly identify our Halloween costume. Some of you recognized Barb and I as Paul Stanley and Gene Simmons, but only Roger added in the berets, the striped shirts and the cravats to come up with FRENCH KISS. Now I understand why both Roger and I have been on TV game shows. Our minds are just warped enough.

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