Category: Uncategorized

What Looked Like a Step Forward Becomes a Step Back

harry boxI’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

holliesLook 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

8581844849_04677e814c_q hot dogFood 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!

Send your anniversary wishes, or any other news of note to les.raff@post.com.

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

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

the wallAll 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.)

lot overhead cropNarrator 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:

max and kittenNot 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:

  1.  Subscribe by entering your email below.
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  3. -and-Share the word. Let all your followers know of the blog site. Share it on Facebook. Distribute the link chicagonow.com/downsize-maybe.

Pledge your support and become eligible to receive a lovely “Pathologists without Houses” totebag at some future date.

No architects were harmed in the making of this advertisement. “Pathologists without Houses” is an imaginary 403B non-profit organization.
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Five Things We Get From Our Parents

AlanisIsn’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.

  1. 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.
  2. 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!
  3. 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.
  4. 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.
  5. 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!

clTrue 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

rodAnd 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.”

  1. 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.
  2. 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.
  3. 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.
  4. 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.
  5. 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.
  6. 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.
  7. 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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Solar Panels–Thumbs Up or Thumbs Down

katrina2I’m walking on sunshine…

…and don’t it feel good!

Katrina and the Waves, 1985

Yeah, that song is little poppier than my usual opening. But we need to talk about the sun, and I didn’t think Soundgarden’s “Black Hole Sun”  was appropriate. (Love the new Chris Cornell song though.)

Barb and I have never discussed how “green” we want the new house to be. Our builder has told us since the start of this project that instead of regular sheathing and overwrap on the exterior he plans on using something called the “Zip System”. We didn’t pay too much attention. Turns out Zip is a pretty new and hopefully pretty awesome way to build a tighter, better insulated, house. So we get one point for being ecologically correct. But the other day, the architect suggested solar panels. It seems we will have the perfect exposure for it, with a south-facing roof and a big pond on that side of the house. Should get plenty of sunshine, even if it is Chicagoland. But we are not sure if we should go ahead or not. It is quite costly, even with ComEd rebates and future electrical savings. And that wide open southern exposure also happens to be the first thing visitors will see as they drive up the street towards the home. With all the effort Barb is going through to choose the right stone, stucco and roofing combination, are solar panels really the first impression we want the house to make? And since Time Magazine just got done telling me that fusion is the unlimited energy of the almost near future, maybe we don’t have to worry….

I shouldn’t make it sound like I am not concerned about the environment. We actually do a lot of recycling, both at home and in the lab. In my Board of Education days we worked very hard to have the school building be a leader in conservation. But my car, and my driving habits, are on the gas-guzzling side and I do have a bad habit (just ask Barb) of leaving the lights on in every room I have visited, however briefly, during the day. So maybe solar panels are something we can do to help the world–if they aren’t too, too unsightly. What do you think? Worth it to put solar panels in a Chicago home?

halloween2There was no sun yesterday for Halloween. Our scoreboard read Super Size Bags of Candy Bought at Target: 2, Trick or Treaters: 0. And if we didn’t already have enough candy laying around the house, Barb and I came home last night with even more as a prize for winning the best costume prize at a Halloween party. A “Kudos” and an “Atta Boy!” in the next post to anyone who can guess exactly what our costume was. Send your guesses to les.raff@post.com

So if Halloween is gone, it must now be Movember. My pledge is to grow absolutely no facial hair. Believe me, it is better this way. But most of you know that prostate cancer is my interest both personally and professionally.  Via the  SeaBlue Prostate Cancer Awareness Runs I have been fortunate to raise a lot of funds over the past few years. I am also doing a bit of research, so if you or a loved one has had a prostate biopsy, please check out  this site.

The sun sets early now, and this blog will go down as well.

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Sucking a Little Less Blood. Is it Trick, or Treat?

vamp3We know the fire awaits unbelievers….

…all of the sinners the same.

Unbelievers–Vampire Weekend–2013

Just in time for Halloween, and it’s a bloody mess! The hot shot,  Jobsian (think Apple, not Biblical)  CEO with the start up venture  in California was going to change the way we lab rats did your blood work. No more tourniquets and making fists. No more scary needles and “just one more tube, dear.” She was going to do all your blood work with a little pin prick on the tip of your finger. She had big national pharmacy chains linking up as blood-drawing partners. She had Wall Street falling all over her. She was going to make the world a kinder, gentler, place.

Now, faster than you can say “Enron”, we read about questionable lab practices and not quite right federal inspections. And let me tell you, a few of my pathologist buddies are gloating! But every medical lab has been through those inspections, and we know how capricious and arbitrary the inspectors can be. By which I mean if they find a problem in MY lab, the inspector is capricious and arbitrary. If the problem is with YOUR lab, oh well.

But I wish Ms Entrepreneur and her company well. Change is good. And lots of things have gotten small. You can go to Lending Club and make teeny tiny consumer loans. You can go to PredictIt and make teeny tiny political bets.  So why not drive to the drug store and give a teeny tiny drop of blood for your lab work? And maybe someday, replace the  drop of blood with a teeny tiny microchip circulating in your blood stream. The chip will  send out signals with all your blood counts and chemistries.  Drive under the Devon I-Pass Transponder on the Tri-State after the office party and the overhead electronic sign will flash to the world “Driver of Brown Ford Fiesta in the far left lane is anemic. And he has a blood alcohol of .18. Keep your distance!” Gives a whole new meaning to Amber Alerts.

Size IS important, but it is not about big or small, it is about getting it right. Barb and I reviewed the engineering drawings on the new house with our architect the other night, and came across the “impervious surface” limit. The building code says only a certain percentage of the lot can be covered by substances such as asphalt, concrete and roofing. Well, we aced it!  One more paving stone on the patio, or one extra inch on the driveway would have set us over the limit and sent alarm bells ringing. But we are perfect. I don’t know if the architect is very, very good, or if we just got lucky! It is a good thing that Barb and I weren’t planning on putting in any playground equipment with an impervious safety mat in the backyard. Got to hope current and future grandkids won’t miss a swing set!

Have  a happy and safe Halloween. And remember to read/comment/subscribe. Otherwise the vampires will suck your blood.

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photo credit: Carlee Huttle as Vixen in Dracula via photopin (license)

Why You Should Be Reading This Blog

hc

You can check out any time you like…

…but you can never leave.

The Eagles–1976

Another Newbie Blog on ChicagoNow. What is this one all about? Call it a personal adventure if you like. My wife Barb and I are young (in our own minds) empty nesters, rattling around in a big suburban home with Max and Phoebe, our resident dog/cat combo.The kids are long gone. So after months of flip-flopping, U-Turns and a 360 or two, we decided to defy reason and build a new, too large, suburban home. We are losing a bedroom here and powder room there, but it will still be a home dedicated to our lifestyle. We began documenting our progress with the blog downsizemaybe at WordPress. We have developed many dedicated followers there, and look forward to migrating with them to this new, more grammatically correct, version in ChicagoNow.

One thing we discovered when building a home from scratch is that for long periods of time, particularly in the early phases, NOTHING HAPPENS! There is only so much that I could write about the horrors of financing this project or the fun of picking out windows. The blog has therefore evolved into a more open forum for my inner ramblings. Sometimes my mind is on music, from classic rock to Broadway show tunes. Other days you may read about my car, my pets or my family, though not necessarily in that order. Current events?  Sure, sometimes.

I try to keep my professional life (I have a full-time career as a pathologist) out of the picture, though one day you may see a sidebar on what pathology is all about. It’s not much like “Quincy” or one of those “CSI” shows, Miami, Chicago or otherwise. And I certainly don’t know any docs like Cathy Martin, the pathology resident on “St. Elsewhere” who liked to lure her lovers underground for energetic morgue sex.

Despite my best efforts, not everyone will love this blog. To make it easy for you to decide, here are four reasons NOT to follow Downsize, Maybe:

  1. If you don’t like having a particular tune stuck in your head all day. One of my partners gave up reading the blog after she complained the opening lyrics  in a particular post were driving her crazy and wouldn’t stop. As for me,  I can’t stop singing “Hey, Jealousy”, the tune that introduced the  last post on the old site.
  2. If you are waiting for Barb to write a post.  Forget about it.  Unless all of you ask very, very, nicely.
  3. If you need a new post seven days a week. Sorry, but I just don’t have the juice for that. Three or four posts a week should serve all of us just fine.
  4. If you are looking for a ranter. I am a laid back guy, though non-vaccinators drive me up a wall, and some presidential candidates do too.

But if you want a tune filled, mellow and entertaining blog, Chicago but a bit suburban, with an occasional twist or two, this will be the place for you. Any comments, suggestions, criticisms or complaints are encouraged. We even have a Facebook Page Downsize, maybe that you can contribute to.

So welcome aboard. Please keep your arms and hands inside the car while you enjoy the ride.
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