Every fall, while the rest of America is apple-picking, raking leaves, or pretending pumpkin spice is a personality, a different ritual begins for 69 million people: Medicare Open Enrollment . Yes — that glorious yearly event in which the federal government drops a giant stack of plan options on your kitchen table and whispers, “Good luck, mortal.” October 15 through December 7 is the season when seniors, near-seniors, and adult children who were “just stopping by to help with the TV remote” suddenly find themselves elbow-deep in premium tables, drug formularies, and enough acronyms to qualify as a foreign language. It's an 8-week buffet of stress, paperwork, and decisions that might save you thousands of dollars — or cost you thousands if you pick wrong. No pressure. This year’s open enrollment is especially spicy, thanks to big changes heading for Medicare in 2026. So pull up a chair, pour something calming, and let’s take a joyride through everything you need to know, sprin...
Ah, the holidays. That magical time of year when people decide the best way to find joy is by chasing it somewhere expensive. Before you can say “ credit limit ,” we’re booking suites, buying matching pajamas, and pretending gingerbread houses are worth flying across the country for. And who swoops in to catch every wide-eyed, stress-frosted traveler? Historic hotels. The grand old temples of “back when things were better,” refurbished to look exactly like they didn’t look back then. They slap up garland, dim the lights, and somehow convince grown adults that paying three grand for a 7-foot tree delivered to their suite is a form of “holiday magic.” It’s the only industry where nostalgia isn’t just an emotion — it’s a business model. A powerful one. A profitable one. A diabolical one. You’re not buying a room. You’re buying a memory that didn’t happen. Let’s dive in. THE HOLIDAY INDUSTRIAL COMPLEX: WHERE SENTIMENTALITY GOES TO DIE Here’s the ugly truth nobody wants to ad...