Cabo Wabo–Timeshare Style

It is always nice to get away from a Chicago winter. Utilizing our resort timeshare and traveling to a locale we have grown very familiar with over the past five years keeps the stress levels low and the expectations in line. But no matter how at home we are with the sprawling resort at the southern tip of the Baja California Peninsula, there are things we learn on every trip. Here are a few, in no particular order.

We were smart to bring along our own ground coffee, tea bags, and sweeteners. What I was not prepared for was how loooong it took the electric stovetop to boil water for my morning cup(s) of tea. I know I was down in Mexico to relax, and there was nothing more pressing on my schedule than “Lay at the pool,” but I still get impatient when the minutes tick by and my first jolt of caffeine is on hold waiting for the tea kettle to whistle. Give me a gas stove any day…or at least a good electric kettle. Note to self–pack electric kettle next year.
We are not automatic pushovers! On our first visit to the resort five years ago we were enticed by the “special promotions” to attend a timeshare sales pitch lunch. Despite plenty of expenses already on our plate–inconsequential things such as building the new house and planning and paying for our daughter’s wedding–we succumbed to temptations and with visions of 6 bedroom deluxe vacation villas dancing in our heads, signed a contract that in reality gave us just an annual week of a one-bedroom suite.

This year resort management invited us to an “owners’ luncheon” with promises of no hard sell and a chance to hear all the latest and greatest about the resort company. Since we had heard through the grapevine the company was planning on building in a few locales we are interested in visiting, and since there was an offer of $100 in resort credit on the table, we gambled that we could be strong and resist any new sales pitch that came along. Sure enough, our Chicken Caesar Salads and Tequila Sunrises (I know it was lunch, but we were on vacation so a bit of day-drinking was necessary) came with a one time offer to toss another $10,000 into our Mexican investment so that we could get better use out of our otherwise worthless Platinum Points. I am pleased to say, we resisted the salesman’s pitch. Though to paraphrase Mario Puzo from the novel “The Godfather,” I have to admit, he didn’t try very hard.

A steady stream of over-chlorinated pool water can bring with it a moderate level of eye discomfort and redness. A single drop of sweat tinged with sunblock can produce excruciating pain and near-instant –but fortunately temporary– blindness. That’s what I get for heeding the words of my dermatologist (and Barb about dedicated use of sunblock.
“Farm-to-Table Restaurant” in Mexico means the same thing as “Farm-to-Table Restaurant” in the USA. Expensive.
When finished snorkeling, it is best to return to the boat that brought you, not waste all your energy going to the wrong excursion. You don’t want to have to tip the crew of two boats.
I could save a ton of money on taxi rides if I would rent a car. However, I am still to chicken to drive in Mexico. Maybe if I took the trouble to learn Spanish…
The next peso I spend in Cabo will be the first peso I spend in Cabo. Dollars, dollars, dollars.
Chicago weather hype reaches for thousands of miles. We were bombarded for days with news about the monster storm headed to O’Hare. American Airlines warned us we should change our flight. They sure psyched me out. Barb remained level headed and resisted my pleas for us to come home two days early to avoid the 6-12 inches of imaginary snow that never fell. If a meteorologist replaced me in the lab, they would call every biopsy “possibly malignant,” just in case!
OK, I give in. A Kindle is easier to transport than 3 library books. Even if my carry-on now contains fourteen charges and three adapters.
No matter how many discounts the management wants to give us, we will never pay for the all-inclusive meals/drinks package. But’s it’s not hard to tell which patrons do–and you don’t have to look for their wrist bracelets to know who they are. Their girth usually gives them away.

All in all, a good trip. The only Corona we saw was the beer. The trip we were planning on taking to China in May? Canceled because of that other newsworthy Corona. You can’t win ’em all.

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For What It’s Worth-Revisited

In the 1960s we had protest songs. We had Dylan, we had McGuire, we had Country Joe. Pete Seeger was temporarily banned for Big Muddy and Roger Daltry stuttered to his generation. And we had Buffalo Springfield. Stephen Stills, Neil Young, Richie Furay, et al, asking what it was all worth. The harrowing lyric “Step out of line, the men come and take you away.”

Anne and I thought it was time to give those lyrics an update–of course, our lyrics are from a lefty point of view. I hope Stephen doesn’t mind.

For What It’s Worth

2020

Strange things are happening here.
What they are is abundantly clear.
There’s a man, with a blond head of hair,
Driving me and my friends to despair.

You know it’s time we stop.
Blue states, coming round.
Need someone,
To knock him down.

Mods and Left are fighting long.
Want to know which side you belong.
Primary fights – it’s such a grind,
It’s no wonder Joe Biden was outshined.

It’s time we stop.
Blue states, coming round.
Need someone,
To knock Trump down.

There’s some love now for young Pete.
With Amy’s troops he will compete.
But Bernie’s Bros thinks it’s their time,
While Bloomberg’s bucks have him solid on cloud nine.

We better stop.
Blue states, coming round.
Just one chance,
To knock Trump down

For more years of this “bleep”.
Consequences way too steep.
Don’t want Trump leading my parade.
Make him mad you know he’s gonna make you pay.

We better stop.
Blue states, coming round.
Or Constitution’s
Coming down.

We better stop.
Blue states, coming round.
It’s our best chance,
To knock Trump down.

Stop now….

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Amazon Stirs My Memories – Remember Old Chicago?

Amazon pays $50 million for former Old Chicago amusement park and megamall site–Chicago Tribune, February 12, 2020.

Who remembers Old Chicago? It was an odd place, a combination of amusement park and boutique stores under a giant dome, that was open in where-the-heck-is Bolingbrook in the late 1970s. It was no Riverview, and no Great America either. It bombed.

I took Barb to Old Chicago for our second date, back when I was still trying to find something unique to do each time we went out. That second date was as much success as the polo match on our first date. A few roller coasters (not Barb’s thing) and a dangerous-looking crowd (also not Barb’s thing.) No wonder I soon fell back to that old stand-by, dinner and a movie. It’s what we boomers did back then, and it’s what we still do, though the butt-shuffling Skokie Theater has been replaced by reclining sleeper seats at the Lincolnshire Regal.

Old Chicago wasn’t the only place trying the indoor amusement park concept. Mall of America in Bloomington, Minnesota has been more successful. My guy gang and I spent one evening there on our first regular-season baseball road trip (2005-White Sox are World Series Champs.) It too seemed dark and dingy, though the dangerous crowd I remembered from Old Chicago was replaced by cosplayers from some character convention going on in part of the mall. Scary in its own way…

The Mall did have one highlight for us, a monument at the location of the homeplate from Metropolitan Stadium, the ballpark pulled down for the Mall. Well, it is a highlight if you are all baseball geeks!

So what is Amazon getting for its $50 million investment? The dome is long-gone. What remains is a 119-acre site, upon which Amazon won’t yet say what it is going to build. My guesses? Maybe a distribution center so I can get my order of computer cables and kitty litter filled faster. How about drone parking lot so I can get my delivery of SLS-free toothpaste and vacuum cleaner bags even faster than that? Or maybe a secret listening post, where Amazon can listen to and analyze everything I say within 100 feet of Alexa–no wait, they already do that!

Well, Mr. Bezos, you didn’t choose Chicago for your HQ2. But you are choosing Chicago now–Old Chicago. May your billions multiply like grains of sand along the lakeshore. Just don’t build another roller coaster there-no one will come!

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I Collect Tees. How About You?

Are you a collector? Some people collect valuable things like stamps and coins. Some people collect trinkets from around the world, things like beer mugs or thimbles. Not me. I want things I can use, things with no value but the sentimental kind. I collect tee shirts and running shirts from wherever I can get my hands on them.

My closet has shelves and shelves of the colorful tops that make up my collection. A green tee from the Hawaiian islands shares space with a blue one from the Florida Keys on my “to be worn to the pool” shelf. An aqua tee from a fine Mexcian resort rests comfortably waiting for our next visit to Cabo. For sports-themed days at the lab I can pull out a Paulie Konerko or José Abreau White Sox tee, while psychedelic days have a couple of tie-dyed options.

But my running/work-out shirts are the heart of my collection. Short-sleeved tees, in cotton or some of the slicker sweat-wicking type of fabrics, dominate one wall. At least half of them are blue–a combination of UroPartners tops, spanning most of the 15 years here at the lab, and SeaBlue shirts from the annual UsToo Lincoln Park Run for prostate cancer support, education, and advocacy. (Yes, in a few months I will be asking you for a donation before this September’s run. Have your credit cards and checkbooks ready.)

Beyond all the blue, the variety starts. Shirts from multiple 4th of July 5K races in Lincolnshire, including a hideous neon green number. There’s a recent addition, a gray shirt from last year’s Labor Day Stampede in Buffalo Grove, where I powered down the homestretch like a buffalo myself, intent on maintaining my short lead on my daughter-in-law. A late kick I didn’t know I had.

A kick that also came in handy in some Northwestern University 4.1 mile “Runs for Walk” honoring their late football coach Randy Walker. Those are the source of my princely purple tees. Two other favorites are shirts picked up on our annual guys’ baseball trips: a blue Milwaukee Brewers shirt that made up for the massive traffic jam getting into the parking lot at Miller Park, and a gray and yellow Andrew McCutchen tee from Pittsburgh’s PNC Park, a beautiful stadium nestled along the Allegheny River. Andrew doesn’t play there anymore, but I still like the shirt.

Various fitness centers are well represented. A pair from the Buffalo Grove Rec Center are joined by a gray Charter One shirt, and a marvelously soft bright orange tee from Lifestart Fitness, my current favorite Westchester spot for cardio after work. To round out the collection, there are a few shirts that I have gotten as gifts, a Nike “Just Do It” one always reminding me to give it my all.

For running in the cool of the evening, I have a few long-sleeved tees, memories of long ago 10K races in Highland Park. The last of those, the 2002 trot, ended with bananas and Carol’s Cookies at the finish line, and, oh yeah, two stress fractures in my right leg. No, I haven’t run a 10K since.

Over time and many workouts and washings, some of my favorites have just withered away. But as long as I keep on going, the shirts will keep on coming. They mean more to me than a thimble ever could.

So what do you collect? What means something to YOU?

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A Loud Lady Tells The World How To Beat Trump

Hi, it’s Anne. Remember me?

I couldn’t watch either of the big events. No, I couldn’t watch him preen at his State of the Union address, though I did see the SloMo replay of Nancy shredding paper a few dozen times. And I couldn’t watch the impeachment farce vote. All that hypocrisy.

But what comes next? Along with the Iowa Caucus fiasco, the whole march to a never-going-to-convict impeachment reminded me of how clueless the Democratic party can be. Need more examples? Remember the Affordable Care Act rollout? Remember Hillary’s campaign?

My problem is that I agree with most of the ideals that the various parts of the Democratic Party support. Things like religious and sexual freedom from government interference. Things like available, affordable, health care. Things like a patched-up safety net, preferably one with some “bounce-back ” springs built in. Things like a belief in science. But how do we get there?

Here are this crazy lady’s suggestions to get Trump out of the White House before it is too late and we solidify the Age of Trump and his minions. You know who they are-President Ivanka, President Don Jr., President Barron.

HOW TO BEAT TRUMP

Screw the long, drawn-out primary system this year. Iowa has already shown us what can go wrong. Get all the potential candidates in a back room and come up with ONE candidate who can win the key swing states. To me, it’s someone from the center, because this is the year to WIN, not the year to push a particular agenda.
Let everyone else withdraw from the primaries. Think of the money you can all save.
Inspire those looking toward a more revolutionary approach with a Vice-Presidential candidate that will be ready to lead in 4 or 8 years. Surely any drastic overhaul in our way of life can wait that long if it accomplishes deTrumpification in November.
Every Democratic leader, from the most northern Aleutian Island to the southern-most Florida Key, needs to offer strong support to the chosen candidate. No back-biting. No “It should have been me’s.” UNITE, UNITE, UNITE.
Mike Bloomberg, keep spending your millions. But spend them in support of the candidate of a united Democratic party, not yourself.
Mitt Romney, your “profile in courage” impeachment vote was a nice start, but you have so much more to do. Run for President on a third party. Any third party! It was rumored that you would do it in 2016. Now is the time. You have no chance to win, but you can be a spoiler, siphoning off the votes of any Republicans who haven’t lost their mind to Trump Nation. Be the Ralph Nader we need.
Get out the vote!

This may be my fantasy. But we can do this! Share the word!

Anne U Phylaxis borrows this blog from Les every once in a while. Write to her at anne.u.phylaxis@columnist.com

photo credit: cszar Say Aah via photopin (license)_

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Do You Know This Man?

Sometimes, when I wake up in the middle of the night and can’t fall back asleep, I run lists or floor plans through my semi-sedated brain. What was the address of every home I have ever lived in? What was the layout of the apartment my family moved to in 1963? What was the name of every First Lady in my lifetime?

Usually, I know the answer. It may be a hard-wired, obvious answer (Jackie Kennedy) and sometimes I have to ponder a bit (you could get to the front balcony from either the door in my bedroom or climbing out the left living room window.) But I usually don’t stump myself.

That is, I didn’t stump myself until last night. My 2 a.m. puzzle was to remember every vice-presidential major party candidate from 1960-2016 (yes, my night time mind-rambles are very specific.) I was doing quite well, zooming through Miller and Humphrey and Edward. Gore was a no-brainer and so was Bush (H.W, who was Reagan’s VP; not W. who was no one’s VP.) The ladies, Ferraro and Palin, lit up my temporal lobe, although I had to kick out Tina Fey and Julia-Louis Dreyfuss as neither was ever really a candidate. A pity.

So what was it that finally tied my mind up in political knots? It turned out I had no idea, not a clue, as to who ran for vice-president in 2016 alongside Democratic presidential candidate Hillary Clinton. Yes, there was someone running for vice-president less than 4 years ago even less memorable than Mike Pence, the cipher from Indiana (or Dan Quayle, the other cipher from Indiana.)

Ladies and gentlemen, in case you have forgotten, the man who won the popular vote for VP in 2016 was (drum roll) Tim Kaine, Senator from Virginia. Admit it, you didn’t remember that either. Mr. Kaine has remained in the Senate, even winning re-election in his home state in 2018. But if he was on “I’ve Got a Secret” I bet he could stump the panel with his skeleton in the closet. “I was a vice-presidential candidate in 2016.”

It seems that in this, the Age of Trump, everything else fades into oblivion. One can only hope this age will fade soon, too.

A shout out to Andrea Eisen, who correctly answered last week’s trivia question. She correctly identified John Sebastian as the only artist to have a #1 Billboard hit in the 1970s with a TV theme song (Welcome Back from Welcome Back, Kotter.)

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Ten Wet Weather Songs. Do You Know Them All?

I believe it's raining all over the world. — I believe it’s raining all over the world.

It’s another dreary, gray day in January and I am thinking about … rain. I know a Chicago winter should be all about snow, but we have been blessed(?) by warm weather for most of the season, so the precipitation that is popping up in my head is the wet stuff instead of the white stuff. And as I look through my microscope I find myself humming water songs. So here are 10 rainy songs for the day. I hope the earworms don’t start eating away at your brains too!

MY TOP TEN RAIN AND STORM SONGS

Taxi by Harry Chapin. Just another rainy day in San Francisco. Smoking pot may be legal now, but I still wouldn’t want my cabbie or Uber driver to be flying that high.
Rainy Day Woman 12 & 35 by Bob Dylan. Another song about getting stoned. Is there a pattern here?
The Rain Song by Led Zeppelin. Isn’t every song by Zep about lighting up?
Love Reign O’er Me by the Who. Yes, I know that “reign” isn’t “rain.” But Roger Daltrey sings about cool rain falling like tears. So it counts.
The Rain in Spain from the original cast recording of My Fair Lady. You knew I had to include one show tune on my list.
Riders on the Storm by the Doors. This one may be my favorite. It has a moody feel that always triggers a memory to a late spring afternoon during my high school years, standing in the rain waiting for a lift from friends. (No Uber in 1971)
Rhapsody in the Rain and Lightnin’ Strikes by Lou Christie. A two-bagger from the sixties. Sweet Lou always seemed to get lucky when the weather took a turn for the worse.
Rain on the Roof by the Lovin’ Spoonful. A less intense 60’s love song than Lou’s two, with John Sebastian memorializing a rainy afternoon.
Electrical Storm by U2. A less well known U2 song, but it’s one of their best of the 2000s.
Kathy’s Song by Simon and Garfunkel. Unless you are a pretty big S & G fan you might not know this one. It is worth a listen. It ends with one of my all-time favorite lyrics — there but for the grace of you go I.

AND A FEW MORE

Rain by the Beatles. Just because it is the Beatles.
Set Fire to the Rain by Adele. Just because it is Adele.
Rainy Night in Georgia by Brook Benton. I believe it’s raining all over the world.
The Rain, The Park, and Other Things by the Cowsills. Because without the Cowsills we wouldn’t have had the Partridges. And how could we have made it through the 70s without the Partridges?
November Rain by Guns’n’Roses. Because November rain is better than November snow.

I know there are as many rain songs as there are streaks on my windshield on a wet afternoon. So what are some of yours?

A trivia question for those of you so inclined, courtesy of Margeson’s Pub Quiz. One of the recording artists named above is the only such artist to have a number one hit during the 1970s with a TV theme song. Can you name the artist and the song? A shout out to my buddy Broonsy for getting this one right when it counted.

photo credit: Thomas Hawk Wet Mornings via photopin (license)

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Don’t Fence Me In.

The text message popped up on my phone early this month.

“We need 98 people to renew their memberships before Trump takes the stage at a rally in Toledo tonight. Yours expired. Renew now.”

The text came with a link to NRSC.news. A little Google research for “NRSC” turned up the National Republic Senatorial Committee. Huh? Had I ever been a member of a Republican senate fundraising group?

Anyone who has met me, or has read a blog of mine or my co-correspondent Anne would probably have a pretty good guess that I have not been supporting many Republican candidates for Senate or for anything else. I have voiced my support for anyone running against Donald Trump.

So I was a loss as to how the Republicans got me on their message blast list. I didn’t pay it much attention, even after getting a follow-up text saying I was now listed as LAPSED (their caps.) Well, maybe I cheered a bit when I found out I had lapsed. Hoorah!

Then before sunrise this morning I was reading a column by Thomas Edsall in the New York Times, discussing how superior the Republicans are to the Democrats in digital marketing. The column detailed a technique called “geofencing.” It’s a technology that allows an agency to set a “digital rope” around a particular area and capture the cell numbers of any phone passing into the zone. And a conservative advocacy group called CatholicVote.org has been particularly effective in circling Catholic churches and texting people who enter them. And no, they haven’t been advocating for Bernie or Amy or Joe.

Could I have somehow been roped in? I am a semi-observant Jewish boy who rarely enters a synagogue, much less a church. No way I could have been marked as a church goer. And then the sun rose and the dawn came and I had a revelation. I had been to a Catholic church recently.

You see, I have a new great-niece, the daughter of my fantastic nephew and his more fantastic wife, and we were happy to celebrate the baby’s combined “Hebrew Naming – Baptism” ceremony with the family. The baby naming was at a restaurant (by definition, Jewish ceremonies involve food) and the lovely baptism ceremony was, of course, was in a church.

So perhaps I have been fenced. To be clear, this would have been accomplished by an outside agency, not someone from the local church or at the ceremony. And maybe my blurbs from the NRSC are totally unrelated.

In any case, it is good to be aware of the various means of digital tracking we can come into contact with every day. Remember, someone is always watching, listening, and whispering into our ears.

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photo credit: Timothy Valentine Chatham Beach and Tennis Club via photopin (license)

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Pet Names–What Do You Call Your Partner?

It is a four-letter word that I like to use. In fact, I use it a lot. My friends have taken bets on how many times that four-letter combo will leave my mouth on a given night. If you are a gambling person here is a hint: play the over. It is something I am likely to say way more than you would expect.

Is it the “f-word”? No, not that, though I do occasionally mumble it under my breath when I knock over a glass of wine. Not the “s-word” either, but I sometimes have to bite my tongue to keep from screaming it out when I knock over a second glass of wine. And there are certain other 4-letter curse words that I don’t think I have ever used, even though they are becoming more and more common in movie theaters and home theaters alike.

No, my four-letter favorite is a little more “G” rated, a little more family-friendly–and that is how I use it. And how Barb does, too. As our friends know and laugh at, it is our incessant habit of calling each other “Babe.” Not dear, not sweetie, not honey. It was, is, and always will be Babe.

How did we get there? I don’t have a clue. Is it a corruption of “Barb”? Unlikely, though not impossible. Was Sonny & Cher’s “I Got You Babe” the inspiration? I don’t think so–though Barb and I do a great rendition of the song.

Was there a particular movie or TV character from whom we picked up “Babe”? Not that I can remember. Of course, “Babe” was a squealingly delightful 1995 film about Babe the Pig, but I would hardly name my wife after a pig. And our habit goes back before 1995. There is no video of our 1978 wedding, but I am quite confident I dropped a few “B-bombs” in my speech way back then.

I think I have added a few other terms of endearment to my vocabulary. Laury tends to get a “honey” now and then. The grandkids are “sweethearts.” The kitten is…well there are lots of nice things we call the kittens. But “Babe” is on reserve. I start my texts to Barb that way and may even find a way to get it written into our new wills. And could there be a better epitaph than “I Married Babe.”?

So now it is your turn. What do you call your partner? And why? The best answer gets a free subscription. Though as Babe would remind me, subscriptions are always free (see below.) Ciao for now!

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This Loud Chick give Hillary a Kick

Hey kids, I’m back again. Enough of you like me so that the Master of this Domain has invited me back for another blurb. And, as a great lady once (many times?) said, “Can we talk?”

Hillary Clinton. I supported her. I marched for her. I voted for her. I thought I knew her. And then in her most important interview in years she sabotages me. Me, and you, and all of us who are sick of this “man of his word” Donald Trump.

Hillary, you say you don’t like Bernie Sanders. You say nobody likes Bernie Sanders. Maybe you think you lost the last election because of him (doubtful.) Fine, that is your opinion. Don’t you know that now is the time to keep it to yourself?

I’m sure not a Bernie Bro, or a Bernie Sis (is there such a thing?) but would support him if he were the Democratic candidate for President. But no one cares what I say. You, on the other hand, have national recognition and a national voice. Why use it now in any way that can hurt a potential Trump slayer? Are you looking for a brokered convention where your name could suddenly reappear? Geez, I sure hope not.

I know on the debate stage, the survivors take shots at each other. But once they leave the island (Harris, O’Rourke, Castro, et al.) have been keeping their mouth’s shut. Cruz and Rubio mastered the art in 2016. Why did you blow it four years later?

I know you have back-tracked and tweeted you would support any candidate against the Trumpster. Good for you, Madame Secretary. Get with the act, and maybe this time the Democrats can beat “the basket of deplorables.” And then I won’t care what you say about Bernie or President Amy or President Elizabeth.

Regular readers: If you miss Les, I am sure he will be back soon.

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photo credit: cszar Say Aah via photopin (license)

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