Mattel’s New Barbies Are Not Enough!

It’s just a …

…personality crisis.

New York Dolls, 1973

When Laury was a little girl, the gift she always asked for, but never received, was a shiny pink plastic Barbie car. It would have been the perfect companion for her blonde, sleek, and unnaturally proportioned Barbie doll. But with sales of that California Barbie flagging, Mattel has announced they will now be making Barbie in seven skin tones, 22 eye colors and 24 hairstyles. Let’s see, doing a Powerbally type calculation we have 7 x 22 x 24=1056 possible combinations. At one a night, that’s 132 years worth of Hannukah presents.

But despite all those permutations, don’t you think Mattel may still be missing the boat? A few suggestions for some additional dolls to jack up (jill up?) their doll sales.

Mariah–this curvy crooner doll comes dressed in Spandex and with a brand new engagement ring. Past husbands optional.
Meryl–a rare talking variety, she can teach your daughter (or son) to speak in 7 different accents.
Merkel–buy this stern German Mädchen and she invites all the neighbor dolls over too!
Adelle–not the most beautiful doll, but sells so fast Toys R Us can’t keep her in stock.
Oprah–be careful when you buy her, she has a tendency to give away all the cars in your garage.
Serena and Venus–a matched set, big, strong and come with a loaded trophy case they won’t let anyone else play with.
Mary-Kate and Ashley–another matched set, not as big, not as strong, but come with a clothes wardrobe they designed for all your other dolls.
Caitlyn–a recent redesign, not welcome in all households.
Carly–she’ll take over your home, bring you to the brink of bankruptcy, then want to be your Doll President.
Miss Columbia–still thinks she is the prettiest doll in your collection.
and finally, Hillary–keeps on running, running, running.

Mattel, if you need me for anymore suggestions, I am available. Just think how many companions we can come up with for Ken. And Laury, we apologize for never buying you that Barbie car. But we did let you drive the CRV!

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I promised a house update. Concrete footings has been poured and are curing, plumbing fixtures have been carefully considered but not ordered, architect and contractor are keeping in touch. 2016 WILL be the year of the big move. Keep following the blog to find out how it all turns out.

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I Have A Trophy Wife, And Other Things I Learned Playing Tennis Twice A Week

Do this, don’t do that…

…can’t you read the sign?

Five Man Electrical Band, 1971

Who remembers “All I Really Need to Know I Learned in Kindergarten”, Robert Fulghum’s best selling book in the late ’80s? It taught us that if we all shared and cleaned up after ourselves the world would be a better place. Sort of like that “Coke” commercial at the end of the final episode of “Mad Men.” I follow those rules, but I also play tennis twice a week. By keeping my eyes and ears open on the court, I have learned a few new rules to add to Reverend Fulghum’s collection. Some are from my Thursday night tennis league, but most are “Dickisms” word of mouth from Dick, our Sunday drill instructor. I can’t promise that if you follow them you will make the world a better place, but when correctly applied, they will help you survive the jungle out there. Here are a few of my favorites:

“When in doubt, call it out.” — your partners, in love and life, will always appreciate you if you make every call in your team’s favor.
On the other hand “Always blame your partner” — will immediately wipe out any good will you have with your teammates, spouses or friends, but will allow you to maintain your self image of perfection.
Hit a shot that clearly was long? Before the opposing team can call it out, loudly yell “It looked good to me.” — confuse the other team enough and they may just call it in your favor. Confusion is also an effective political strategy (See Palin, Sarah.)
“You’re only as good as your last shot.” — but when that last shot is a winner, you can feel good all day, even if it was preceded by a horrendous set of tennis.
“Up the middle solves the riddle” — a more grammatically correct version of Wee Willie Keeler’s famous baseball maxim “hit ’em where they ain’t,”…
…which goes well with “Power thrills, placement kills” — my kind of advice. A little misdirection can go a long way.
“A lob is the most under-utilized shot in tennis.” — hitting a lob gives you time to react before your opponents can make their return. Having time to react is critical for thinking up an excuse when asked why you ate the last piece of pizza, the one she was going to have for lunch tomorrow.
“Leave it high and you’re going to die” — make sure the lob/excuse is perfect, or it will come back to haunt you.
“Hit it that way because I said so” — self explanatory and used by every coach, parent and boss since the beginning of civilization. Probably used by parents in other phyla before then.
“I want you to do my autopsy when I am dead.” — a frequent Dickism, this has nothing to do with tennis, but at least I know Dick will trust me with sharp objects once he has passed on.

As for the Trophy Wife, I don’t know how Dick came up with it, but if Barb is a trophy wife, then I won the prize!

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Next post will be house building related. I promise!!

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photo credit: <a href=”http://www.flickr.com/photos/16077535@N00/2963144336″>Stop Sign By Red Tree (Nice Dry Title)</a> via <a href=”http://photopin.com”>photopin</a> <a href=”https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0/”>(license)</a>

Can Someone Create This App?

Sometimes I’m right…

…and I can be wrong.

Sly and the Family Stone, 1969

Here’s to Sly. Remember in 1968 when the Stone family burst on the scene with “Dance to the Music”? I loved that funky sound blasting out of my bedside clock radio. A nice plus for me was the way the song introduced each instrument, with lyrics like “I’m gonna add a little guitar” or “all we need is a drummer”. I was a kid who loved listening to music, but had never picked up an instrument, didn’t know a saxophone from a xylophone. Finally Sly had a way for me to tell the sound of a lead guitar from a bass. Alas, the song didn’t start a trend and on all the other hit music flying around my ears I was left as befuddled as ever. And it never got any better.

So I need an app. Let’s call it Buffy. When I am listening to music, I want to tell Buffy “lead guitar” or “snare drum” and have those instruments come to the forefront. I want to be able to say “tuba” and have my next door neighbor’s kid’s oom-pah-pah come blasting out of the high school band’s recording of “God Bless America.” Or say “Paul” and have his harmonies separate from John’s on “I Want to Hold Your Hand.” And imagine what Buffy can do for my up-to-now limited enjoyment of classical music. If I want to learn what part the third violin plays, all I have to do is say “3Vee.”

Come to think of it, why not give Buffy more real world use. Want to stream a movie, but only want to see the scenes with the hot babe or the hulky guy? Buffy can handle that easy squeezy. A Tarantino film with only the good parts? Just tell her “Killings.” Need to watch a Blackhawks game in a hurry? Say “Awesome” and watch your screen fill with Kaner and Captain Serious. The best use for Buffy? Tune in to a Republican Presidential debates. Ask Buffy for “Sanity.” She will turn off your TV.

I guess all I am really asking for is some easy artificial intelligence to be added to our everyday activities. Maybe the app could even help me build the new house. Cancel out all the long delays. Make the right decorating choices. Keep an eye on every penny. Oh wait, I already have an extra-intelligent, non-artifical non-app to do that. And her name is Barb. NOT available at an app store near you!

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Got other good uses for this app? Let me know at les.raff@post.com

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Isn’t This Blog Supposed To Be About Building A House?

He doesn’t look a thing like Jesus…

…but more than you’ll ever know.

The Killers, 2006

Yes, it has been awhile since we have had a lesson in Home Building 101. Weather and other assorted issues have caused a bit of a hiatus in the Big Dig. All of you who warned us that we needed to keep some flexibility in our time line were right on target. So as you have all noticed, the blogs have had to find some alternate topics*, which have made me a few new friends, and alas, some new frenemies.

But today we are back in the world of construction. The thaw last week finally allowed completion of excavation. Of course, the thaw is being followed by a brutal cold snap, so I don’t think the concrete for the foundation will be flowing for a while. But the weather is no barrier for Barb. She has been researching, reading, revising, and improving. The muntins entered limbo for a while, but are back in their rightful place on the windows. Roofing continues to be a challenge, as the pluses and minuses of a variety of products are weighed. We have discovered a new contender, a pseudo-slate, manufactured in part from recycled rubber products. Made in Canada, it is eco-friendly, and not bad looking, but not yet popular in the Chicago area. If you have used it, give us a review! Barb has also been busy evaluating all the plumbing fixtures. Sinks, toilets, tubs. So many styles, so many trends. It can be overwhelming.

Overwhelming is an understatement when talking about Abt Appliances in Glenview, Disney World® for adults. Barb and I have been shopping with them for 35 years, through three of their locations and four of our homes. Their incredible selection is matched by wonderful service and attention to detail. I don’t know how I failed to give them one of my customer service awards. In two hours we had placed an order for everything from refrigerators to ovens to dishwashers and more. We scored a deal on a manufacturers close out oven model. Almost a rare Abt glitch with that one though. Since the oven is a close out, the store required us to take possession now, even though it won’t be installed for months. When the delivery driver called to say he was on his way he mentioned the address he was headed to. Delivering the oven to that big hole in Riverwoods would not have been the desired outcome! Fortunately Barb was able to direct him to our current home, where a large oven crate now takes up a quarter of my garage.

When Barb and I aren’t researching the home, we have been binge watching Sons of Anarchy, a motorcycle gang mash-up of The Godfather (a favorite movie) and The Sopranos (a favorite TV show.) It is violent and compelling, and stars a young Brit, Charlie Hunnam, that Barb thinks is cute. That is his picture at the top of the blog. I figure that between Neil Diamond on the last blog, and Charlie on this one, I should be in Barb’s good graces for at least a month. Any opinions from the ladies out there on Charlie vs. Neil?

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*Did you miss the family history post? Click here.

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Denied Immigration Elsewhere, My Father Thrived In America

On the boats and on the planes…

…They’re coming to America

Neil Diamond, 1980

It is family legend. I never actually heard my father tell the story, but it has been part of my consciousness, and my conscience, as long as I can remember. My father was born in Berlin in 1919, the son of a Jewish couple. Dad’s father died very young, and Mutti, my paternal Grandmother, remarried, to the screenwriter Frederich Raff. By 1933, Hitler was Chancellor of Germany, and the first boot steps of his anti-semitism began to echo across the country. Friederich, a Swiss citizen, decided that his family, which now included my dad’s half-brother Herbert, would be safer, and life more prosperous, living in Switzerland. The proper documentation was obtained for Mutti and Herbert. My dad, not Friedrich’s natural child, was denied Swiss admission. Knowing he would be separated from his family and still eager to leave Germany, Dad turned to distant relatives in the Chicago area, obtained a sponsorship from them, and was able to immigrate to the US.

Dad never spoke much about his early years here, and I never asked enough questions. I know he went to night school, worked hard and in 1946 married my mother, who had fled Vienna with her family years earlier, at the time of Hitler’s Anschluss of Austria. Dad lived a productive life here, and along with my mom was the loving parent of two children. Both my parents lived long enough to be a part of the life of four grandchildren. A legacy to America of two teachers, two physicians, and two attorneys.

By refusing my dad entrance, what did Switzerland miss out on? Had Dad been a young professional in Zurich he would have never met Mom. But I have no doubt that he would have found a Swiss Miss and raised a similar family, believing in education and accomplishment. What Switzerland lost, America gained. I read the scoreboard of those two generations of Dad and Mom’s offspring as US 6, Switzerland 0.

So I shudder when I hear that we must build an immigration wall, or issue a blanket denial to those who seek refuge here from war and persecution. America has been built on the back of waves of immigrants. I understand that not all assimilate well, and even for the majority who do, it can take a generation or two. I understand that there may be a financial drain on social services while the transition occurs. I understand that some fear the minute risk that some of those entering the country will seek to do serious harm. And I understand that a nation has laws and regulations that need to be respected. What I don’t understand is how so many of us don’t believe that this country has the strength to accept, and blend, and grow, and survive. I never want to see a zero on the US side of the scoreboard.

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Sorry Gang-We Might Not Win The Lottery Tonight

And there’s winners, and there’s losers

But they ain’t no big deal.

John Mellencamp-1983

Hail, Hail, the Labs all in! Who wouldn’t want to grab a shot at the billion dollar Powerball prize. So for the third time in the last week we have all ponied up our two dollars, and now we all have a share of 20 tickets, and a shot at early retirement. Well, OK, it wouldn’t be THAT early a retirement for me. But sadly, I think we will all be here tomorrow, making slides, spinning test tubes, peering through microscopes. It’s not just that the odds are against us. The odds are against everyone. No, what my lab mates failed to consider is that having me buy in lowers the groups chances even more.

Let me count the things I lose at. We can start with every lottery ticket I have ever bought. Whether it was a computer quick pick or a carefully thought out series of choices involving birthdays, anniversaries and number of children, I rarely match more than two of the winning numbers. Not even enough to win my money back. Horse racing? The annual “Day at the Race Track” sponsored by my old hospital? I might as well have torn up my dollar bills. My horses all trailed the field. Barb could do better just picking the winners by the horse’s name. After all, she KNEW Barbaro was going to win the Kentucky Derby in 2006. Why didn’t we bet on that one?

I have lost every basketball game I have played in the last 20 years, a majority of tennis matches, and innumerable games of Password. Fantasy football? Hah! If I remember to make my picks, I get them all wrong and end up at the bottom. Except in leagues where the worst player gets a prize. Then I am sure to finish second to last. Add It’s Academic (Sullivan High School, Class of ’72) and Jeopardy (Alex Trebeck, 1989) to my litany of losses, and a pretty impressive portfolio can be created.

Have I won anything? I had a pretty good winning streak on the late Roy Leonard’s radio show back in the ’80’s. I specialized in answering questions about rock music that most of his 80 year old listeners weren’t up on. With that demographic, I had plenty of time to be the 8th caller with the right answer. And come to think of it, I did win four Board of Education elections. I was unopposed every time, but somewhere I am sure a Mickey Mouse write in campaign has triumphed over an overconfident candidate, so I consider my wons hard fought ones. Finally there have been two NCAA March Madness brackets that I have cashed in on (Kentucky, 1978 AND Kentucky, 2012. Go Cats!) Hey, maybe I am not such a loser after all. Fellow labbies, we are going to win!

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Why Did My Cat Dump Me?

Kkkkkk, Katmandu…

…I think it’s really where I’m going to.

Bob Seger, 1975

I became a cat lover at age eight. I remember my aunt and uncle climbing the stairs to our apartment with a paper shopping bag. Peeping out was a scrawny street cat they had captured. They had decided they didn’t want her, but that she would be a perfect fit for my family. My uncle had named her Lolita, a name who’s significance was totally lost on me. Sure enough, she knew how to get around, and a few months later Lolita was burrowing into a mattress to give birth to a litter of four. While Lolita and three of her offspring were donated to a shelter, the fourth kitten, grey and frisky, became Mousey. He was the family cat for 14 years, even surviving a tumble, of somewhat questionable origins, from a third floor window.

Fast forward to married life and a constant parade of cats. Early on, Barb surprised me with Jessie, a stunning but emotionally cool Calico. Pee-Wee, inherited from Barb’s mom, was a decent fellow, though he did lose control once, attacking Barb and Michael. That was the end of front claws in our cats. (Let the haters begin.) Penny, named for ‘baller Penny Hardaway, was Pee-Wee’s clone. The coordinator at the animal shelter warned us he might have a mean streak. She was right. Penny and I were buds, but he chose to torment Laury, chasing her up the staircase nightly, a big fluffy pillow Laury’s only protection. If it hadn’t been for Penny, I envision Laury with a cat now, instead of her beloved Havanese pup.

Which brings us to Phoebe. I have mentioned her before. She is gorgeous, she is tiny, she is playful. She is everything you want a cat to be. And she used to love me. Rolling over for tummy rubs, grooming my hair nightly, insistently rubbing her head against me. She was mine, mine, mine.

And now it is over. She ignores me, she runs from me, she hops into Barb’s arms to spite me. What did I do? Did I forget to empty her litter box one evening? Did I leave her belly fur out of place or change my hair gel? Did I wake her from a sound sleep one Sunday morning leaving her with only 22 hours of sleep that day? I am heart-broken. I just can’t figure it out. Barb tries to console me, tells me it is all in my mind. But I know, and Phoebe knows. Nothing hurts like unrequited love. I am so depressed that I think I will need to build a new house. And Phoebe dear, I promise, I won’t forget the litter box.

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If you have some cat advice, or a good cat story. let me know!

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What Is The Last Sound You Will Hear?

How do you like your blue eyed boys…

…Mr Death.

Buffalos Bill’s/Defunct E. E. Cummings

I was listening to the latest Jack Reacher novel this morning when Reacher and his new sidekick encountered an “assisted suicide center.” The Center coupled soft lights, comfortable furniture and piped in music to a fatal dose of Nembutal. No, I am not going to discuss the pros and cons of assisted suicide, though I will remind you that Jack “Dr. Death” Kevorkian, the notorious euthanasia proponent, was a pathologist. What I started ruminating on was that piped in music. What is the last melody, lyric, or note that I would want to hear as I peacefully drifted into my final rest?

I don’t have a single song that I could call a favorite, any more than I have a favorite play, novel, or movie. Different times/moods/situations all lead to different choices for what I want to read/watch/listen to. A sunny vacation day at the beach calls for different tunes than sitting cramped in an airliner with the engines vibrating and my noise cancelling headphones clamped on my head. And while I think “Platoon” is the best war movie I have ever seen, I surely don’t want to be immersed in the jungles of Vietnam every time I want to go to the show. Besides, Barb would never stand for it. That is another thing about favorites. They are meant to be shared.

A favorite should survive multiple exposures. I am not talking about a twenty four hour marathon of “A Christmas Story” or “It’s a Wonderful Life” on Netflix. But sitting through a road show of “Les Miserables,” or catching an episode of “Seinfeld” on the tube, will always be satisfying. I have a harder time convincing myself to reread a favorite book. I would rather dig into an authors newest work than pull out his or her old one, though that strategy doesn’t help me much with John Steinbeck. I loved “East of Eden,” but I doubt I am getting anything new from Mr. S.

I don’t read much poetry, but I do have a favorite poem. I am not sure how much of “The Wasteland” I really understood when I studied it in college, but I can still recite a stanza or two. And I get a kick out of Cummings’ “Buffalo Bill,” though I can’t say I have much of an opportunity to refer to it in daily conversation.

So what would I want piped in as the Nembutal took me away? The song that immediately comes to my mind is “One.” I just hope those helping me make the transition get it right. It’s the U2 song, not the one by 3 Dog Night. On my way out I won’t need to be reminded that one is the loneliest number!

What is the last sound you would want to hear? Comment here, or send your thoughts to me at les.raff@post.com. If I get enough contributions, I will print a list in a future blog.

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Turning 60 Along With Some Of My Friends

They say it’s your birthday…

…it’s my birthday too yea.

The Beatles, 1968

This is it. Today I am 60. And no, I don’t feel ancient or even feel senior. I don’t feel creaky, and I don’t feel like I am on the downside of the slope. Personally and professionally, I still feel on top! Of course, right now the new house is a low point. What else can you call a hole in the ground? But I am sure it will soon begin to rise, even if Barb has to commit a few homicides on contractors to get it going. Believe me, she is motivated AND capable!

Who else is turning 60 this year? Most of our friends have already hit that milestone, but lots of celebrities join me as mid-to-late baby boomers born in 1956. We grew up with black and white TV’s without a remote control, music spinning on vinyl, and movies shot on film. But we have grown and mostly prospered in this changed digital world. A few memorable 56’ers:

Tom Hanks: A great actor, and if he hadn’t starred in Splash, Madison would never have become such a popular name.
Carrie Fisher: When we caught her one woman show in Chicago, didn’t realize we would be seeing her back in Star Wars. Who knew?
Bryan Cranston: Sure, we liked him on Seinfeld and Malcolm, but Breaking Bad was our first TV binge. Was it because of Mr. White, or did Barb have a crush on Jessie?
Joe Montana: A 56er by birth, a 49er forever.
Rod Blagojevich: A believer in tradition- Step 1 become Governor of Illinois, Step 2 Go to prison. Good thing my political career ended at School Board President.
John Lydon: When your band mate’s name is Sid Vicious, it’s amazing that you reach 60, even if you are Johnny Rotten.
Geena Davis: Great memories of Laury’s favorite movie, A League of Their Own. With Tom Hanks as her manager, what could go wrong?
Bob Saget: Another hero of our kids’ childhood. But Fuller House? Really?
Maureen McCormick: Marcia, Marcia, Marcia. I have NOTHING more to say. Really.
Mel Gibson: Mad Max Fury Road was one of my favorite movies of 2015. Oh wait, Mel wasn’t in it. Loved Charlize though.
Marc Trestman: One last Illinois tradition. Step 1 become Bear coach, Step 2 lose, Step 3 Get fired.

60 will be grand. And I promise to write all about it.

Cheers!

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OUR New Years Eve Drinking Game

Where you drink champagne…

…and it tastes just like Coca-Cola

The Kinks-Lola

When you get to be a little older, the need for a clear head and fewer calories starts to replace the desire for over-drinking on New Years Eve. And at our age, who wants to be anticipating a morning-after hangover? But drinking games are fun, and even though the only alcohol we served at our New Years Eve Party was wine, we still were able to have one. It’s just that in our game the drinks were all on paper, and most of them were of the “soft” variety. All we asked of our guests was to match a variety of beverages with the year in which they were first introduced. It led to a lot of head scratching and heated debate among each of our teams, and a lot of groans and “I told you so’s” when the correct answers were revealed. I leave it as a challenge to our readers. How many connections can you make. Just match the libation in the left column to the year of origin in the right column. Correct answers will appear at the end of the post. Our guests were awarded Starbucks’ Gift Cards as prizes, but I won’t object if you take a shot of Patron for every match you make. None of our teams could correctly pair up more than 6 drinks with the proper year. Let me know if you score more, assuming you can still find the keyboard after all the tequila.

7UP	1876
A & W Root Beer	1885
Budweiser Beer	1886
Canada Dry Ginger Ale	1904
Coca Cola	1905
Dom Perignon Champagne	1919
Dr. Pepper	1927
Grey Goose Vodka	1929
Hawaiian Punch	1934
Kool-Aid	1936
Mountain Dew	1940
RC Cola	1961
Snapple Ice Tea	1963
Sprite	1987
Tab	1997

To our actual party guests, our apologies for the very cheesy Neil Diamond game that followed the drinks game. I would be the first to admit that it did not live up to the high standards of a usual Barb and Les production. And I am sure even Neil would admit that “Cherry Cherry Christmas” dredges the bottom of the Neil Diamond Songbook sea. As to our third game, congratulations to a few of our friends on some very interesting rhyming. Perhaps you did fortify yourselves with a few shots of Don Julio when no one was looking.

In closing, Happy New Year to all. We hope 2016 will be a special one, with lots to enjoy and lots to write about. After all, it doesn’t count until the paper work is done!

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Below are the answers to the quiz. Be sure to let us know how you did, and feel free to share and challenge your friends.

Budweiser Beer	1876
Dr. Pepper	1885
Coca Cola	1886
Canada Dry Ginger Ale	1904
RC Cola	1905
A & W Root Beer	1919
Kool-Aid	1927
7UP	1929
Hawaiian Punch	1934
Dom Perignon Champagne	1936
Mountain Dew	1940
Sprite	1961
Tab	1963
Snapple Ice Tea	1987
Grey Goose Vodka	1997

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