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

We 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

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:

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.
If you are waiting for Barb to write a post. Forget about it. Unless all of you ask very, very, nicely.
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.
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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