May 31, 2012
Two Days Changes Things
Sign down out front, offer accepted for a buyer, new offer on country property accepted, and now begins the dance of the inspections.
May 30, 2012
Longer Between Strikes
Not sure what to write tonight, other than I am feeling what transition purgatory must be like.
We are *maybe*, nearly, likely close to an offer, and wouldn't that be nice. Sales people are hinting and crossing their fingers until it's firm, and every day that slips away slips from the sense of discovery that imprints a home on a buyer. Their dreams need to include it, to settle on just this one, and that happens in a snap. And here we have the perfect buyers who are waiting on a counter, I'm sure to try on other homes for size.
Thoughts race. The price is too high. It doesn't have enough square footage. The street is busier than they want. The carpet is too dark. All of these problems are unfixable things, and I feel out of patience and perseverence. Someone needs to remind me that it only takes one to alter our course.
Last weekend we saw a house. On a lark we took down the address and drove by. It is on an acre of land, 10 minutes from town. The farmhouse was built in 1902, and there was a worktruck out front. The hubs' curiosity got the better of him as it always does, and he confidently walked on up. Moments later he popped out and gestured for me to come, and that the chatty electrician had invited us in.
I suppose it was inevitable to fall in love with the place given the fact we were pseudo-trespassing. It had been renovated, modernized, and brought up to code with wiring and duct work. New kitchen and baths, flooring and windows, each room full of century charm and delightful surprises. Almost all of the living space downstairs, with a giant bonus room up. Did I mention the quiet peace of the land, set among fields of vegetables? It sits atop a well and septic, neither of which we know anything about.
Crackle, crackle, I remember now, this is what it takes to motivate a looker into a buyer. It takes walking into a home and feeling the fit. Seeing themselves there. Putting furniture against the walls, trimming the plants, having a bbq by the pool. Imagining the sweet life.
Lightning strikes when you're finding your home. It feels involuntary, at least to me, like the house picks you. Once it grabs you, and you reach for the ring, the rest is mostly about holding your breath and waiting.
We are *maybe*, nearly, likely close to an offer, and wouldn't that be nice. Sales people are hinting and crossing their fingers until it's firm, and every day that slips away slips from the sense of discovery that imprints a home on a buyer. Their dreams need to include it, to settle on just this one, and that happens in a snap. And here we have the perfect buyers who are waiting on a counter, I'm sure to try on other homes for size.
Thoughts race. The price is too high. It doesn't have enough square footage. The street is busier than they want. The carpet is too dark. All of these problems are unfixable things, and I feel out of patience and perseverence. Someone needs to remind me that it only takes one to alter our course.
Last weekend we saw a house. On a lark we took down the address and drove by. It is on an acre of land, 10 minutes from town. The farmhouse was built in 1902, and there was a worktruck out front. The hubs' curiosity got the better of him as it always does, and he confidently walked on up. Moments later he popped out and gestured for me to come, and that the chatty electrician had invited us in.
I suppose it was inevitable to fall in love with the place given the fact we were pseudo-trespassing. It had been renovated, modernized, and brought up to code with wiring and duct work. New kitchen and baths, flooring and windows, each room full of century charm and delightful surprises. Almost all of the living space downstairs, with a giant bonus room up. Did I mention the quiet peace of the land, set among fields of vegetables? It sits atop a well and septic, neither of which we know anything about.
Crackle, crackle, I remember now, this is what it takes to motivate a looker into a buyer. It takes walking into a home and feeling the fit. Seeing themselves there. Putting furniture against the walls, trimming the plants, having a bbq by the pool. Imagining the sweet life.
Lightning strikes when you're finding your home. It feels involuntary, at least to me, like the house picks you. Once it grabs you, and you reach for the ring, the rest is mostly about holding your breath and waiting.
May 21, 2012
It pays to be friendly
Every time I get to selling something, a light switches on. Take for instance our yard sale yesterday: we had a terrific day putting out our *stuff* on tables and dragging out furniture and then just sat back and met the town. We stuck signs on the cars and put them in the street, and that's all the advertising that was needed.
Hi there, where are you from and whatcha stopping for? In that way we met a young man who just bought his first house around the corner, who really couldn't believe there were new-in-the-box Stetsons in his size. It took all day, but he bought both of them. Other visitors included a little boy who had to have the marshmallow shooter in the box; the neighbor's daughter who had always wanted a waffle iron; and the new neighbor who we hadn't met.
I liked the banged-up furniture collector who forgot she had no money in her purse after buying the buffet, and true to her word was back in a jif with a little extra for our trouble. One couple screeched to a halt because they saw a chaise lounge with a pad, and there was the shy, engaged couple who accepted our wedding gift of a set of dishes to start them off.
It was hotter than blue blazes by 10 but we managed, through a local realtor showing the house, and several inadvertent showings myself. Lightswitch time.
The first gal stopped by after looking at the house online. She was driving by to see it in person and lo and behold! we were out front. So she asked to see the yard, and one thing led to another and I heard her story while we walked the house. She lives with her elderly parents and her pop is heading into the senior assisted living just down the street, and she is looking for somewhere close by where her mom can walk down and they can live together. (Here's the realtor's number)
There was a second family I don't remember, but the third family I toured was a fun older Oregon couple originally from San Francisco and a long 45 minute chat with the hubs and all the stories tumbling back and forth, while the Mrs. and I walked the yard and house. Their daughter lives in town who wants to buy a place for them to live in and rent. They sure liked the pool... (Here's the card)
Yard sales are a really great way to connect. We made decent money and a donation to UCP, plus squeezed in a swim, an afternoon movie and the Annular Eclipse. Bam! Good day! You never know where friends are lurking (the older gent and his wife are coming later today for a visit).
I happen to think someone we met yesterday may very well be the next lucky person to live here. After all, two of my past houses were sold in just this way, to neighbors and friends.
Hi there, where are you from and whatcha stopping for? In that way we met a young man who just bought his first house around the corner, who really couldn't believe there were new-in-the-box Stetsons in his size. It took all day, but he bought both of them. Other visitors included a little boy who had to have the marshmallow shooter in the box; the neighbor's daughter who had always wanted a waffle iron; and the new neighbor who we hadn't met.
I liked the banged-up furniture collector who forgot she had no money in her purse after buying the buffet, and true to her word was back in a jif with a little extra for our trouble. One couple screeched to a halt because they saw a chaise lounge with a pad, and there was the shy, engaged couple who accepted our wedding gift of a set of dishes to start them off.
It was hotter than blue blazes by 10 but we managed, through a local realtor showing the house, and several inadvertent showings myself. Lightswitch time.
The first gal stopped by after looking at the house online. She was driving by to see it in person and lo and behold! we were out front. So she asked to see the yard, and one thing led to another and I heard her story while we walked the house. She lives with her elderly parents and her pop is heading into the senior assisted living just down the street, and she is looking for somewhere close by where her mom can walk down and they can live together. (Here's the realtor's number)
There was a second family I don't remember, but the third family I toured was a fun older Oregon couple originally from San Francisco and a long 45 minute chat with the hubs and all the stories tumbling back and forth, while the Mrs. and I walked the yard and house. Their daughter lives in town who wants to buy a place for them to live in and rent. They sure liked the pool... (Here's the card)
Yard sales are a really great way to connect. We made decent money and a donation to UCP, plus squeezed in a swim, an afternoon movie and the Annular Eclipse. Bam! Good day! You never know where friends are lurking (the older gent and his wife are coming later today for a visit).
I happen to think someone we met yesterday may very well be the next lucky person to live here. After all, two of my past houses were sold in just this way, to neighbors and friends.
May 17, 2012
The Schpeil
It came to me on my way to work yesterday, how oddly we react with surprise whenever things don't go the way the little life plan has set up for things to go.
How precariously close we totter to the brink, with the illusion of a safety net as we chart our own course and imagine stability and calm is because of our masterful management of life. :)
A work acquaintance at my former job was laid off. She had been there since the beginning of time and made it through round after round of layoffs, developing the kind of skin one develops in that situation, and I am sure a sense of immunity. She took the layoff laced routines in stride, and would have never prepared much for it believing the lessons that she was too valuable to let go.
It is little consoluation now, with the good staying behind and the company's contributions taking the form of a pink slip and a year on unemployment.
I would rather not have known what the office looks like, or the sound of being flattered by words of how valuable and instrumental I have been in bettering the school, and what a team player and hard worker I am, before the news that the budget cuts are deep and my position is being eliminated (or parceled out to interns making $10 an hour).
But since I do, I can tell her there is life beyond. There is hope. She has the 3 E's - energy, empathy, and education - and something will pop for her as it did for me.
How precariously close we totter to the brink, with the illusion of a safety net as we chart our own course and imagine stability and calm is because of our masterful management of life. :)
A work acquaintance at my former job was laid off. She had been there since the beginning of time and made it through round after round of layoffs, developing the kind of skin one develops in that situation, and I am sure a sense of immunity. She took the layoff laced routines in stride, and would have never prepared much for it believing the lessons that she was too valuable to let go.
It is little consoluation now, with the good staying behind and the company's contributions taking the form of a pink slip and a year on unemployment.
I would rather not have known what the office looks like, or the sound of being flattered by words of how valuable and instrumental I have been in bettering the school, and what a team player and hard worker I am, before the news that the budget cuts are deep and my position is being eliminated (or parceled out to interns making $10 an hour).
But since I do, I can tell her there is life beyond. There is hope. She has the 3 E's - energy, empathy, and education - and something will pop for her as it did for me.
May 16, 2012
The Artful Gushers
I am so relieved about John you have no idea. Out of surgery: check. Fairly stable: check. Beginning the recovery process: double check. Thank heavens.
I feel kind of funky today, what is wrong, what is bugging me? It started off sour over fussing with the house. Every. single. day. It is old already, do you hear me? The house is like an uncooperative child with long hair: everything needs messing with and fluffingand dedogged before work. Today's the day! I hum to myself as I run the sweeper and watch the clock.
What today was, was the day I left the clothes trapped in the dryer after fishing out my slacks, because there wasn't time to fold and hang it and I couldn't lay everything out on the guest room bed like I usually do. Because ... today's the day!
Actually, today could have been the day. There was an actual buyer. In the house. Walked around. Liked it, I'm told. But now we're contending with the artful gushers. "Oh the house is SOOO beautiful and shows so BEAUTIFULLYYYYY. I'm just SURREEEE they'll make an offer any DAYYYY. No, thank YOUUUUUUU."
Puleeeeeze.
I like some staging parts. Like when the sun drizzles away, and we turn on the lights (on low) in the rooms facing the street, so they glow happily. It's just enough for the curious drive by'rs and night walkers on the busy street, Pssst, come check it out, you know you want to.
Like when during the day the blinds stay open not only for the sun to pour in but for people who stop and walk up the chance to peer in the windows. Isn't it nice? You should see it with a Realtor. When the hubs and I house shop, even the dog comes out of the truck on a leash, to walk the property and talk to the neighbors. It's true: we're those kind of house buyers.
At work there were little obstacles that shouldn't have derailed the train but invariably did. I'm not feeling well since noon and that fishy tuna fish sandwich. Time to head home and then to bed.
I am very disappointed to miss Triffin's bridal dress fitting, and the generational women all hanging out and talking it up. I tell you what, Triffin has earned every minute of her day in the sun. She is going to make the most beautiful bride.
It's wedding zone: 3 for 3 in May*June*July. It has been great buying stuff that hopefully won't turn up in a future garage sale. I know how it builds, the day is almost here, all the hoping and waiting and planning is close. I think we should head back to Auburn and our friends there. Maybe show them we're still holding hands and jumping off the wall together.
I feel kind of funky today, what is wrong, what is bugging me? It started off sour over fussing with the house. Every. single. day. It is old already, do you hear me? The house is like an uncooperative child with long hair: everything needs messing with and fluffingand dedogged before work. Today's the day! I hum to myself as I run the sweeper and watch the clock.
What today was, was the day I left the clothes trapped in the dryer after fishing out my slacks, because there wasn't time to fold and hang it and I couldn't lay everything out on the guest room bed like I usually do. Because ... today's the day!
Actually, today could have been the day. There was an actual buyer. In the house. Walked around. Liked it, I'm told. But now we're contending with the artful gushers. "Oh the house is SOOO beautiful and shows so BEAUTIFULLYYYYY. I'm just SURREEEE they'll make an offer any DAYYYY. No, thank YOUUUUUUU."
Puleeeeeze.
I like some staging parts. Like when the sun drizzles away, and we turn on the lights (on low) in the rooms facing the street, so they glow happily. It's just enough for the curious drive by'rs and night walkers on the busy street, Pssst, come check it out, you know you want to.
Like when during the day the blinds stay open not only for the sun to pour in but for people who stop and walk up the chance to peer in the windows. Isn't it nice? You should see it with a Realtor. When the hubs and I house shop, even the dog comes out of the truck on a leash, to walk the property and talk to the neighbors. It's true: we're those kind of house buyers.
At work there were little obstacles that shouldn't have derailed the train but invariably did. I'm not feeling well since noon and that fishy tuna fish sandwich. Time to head home and then to bed.
I am very disappointed to miss Triffin's bridal dress fitting, and the generational women all hanging out and talking it up. I tell you what, Triffin has earned every minute of her day in the sun. She is going to make the most beautiful bride.
It's wedding zone: 3 for 3 in May*June*July. It has been great buying stuff that hopefully won't turn up in a future garage sale. I know how it builds, the day is almost here, all the hoping and waiting and planning is close. I think we should head back to Auburn and our friends there. Maybe show them we're still holding hands and jumping off the wall together.
May 12, 2012
Limitless Dreams
My friend Deb's burdens are on my mind today, with John's dangerous surgery on Tuesday. He is a miracle in her life, and I mean that sincerely.
I met Deb when I was 18, and I know of her that she has always had limitless dreams, the ones that are in color and combine the virtual and physical worlds. And through pushing herself into life and over obstacles that John came into her life.
Her deepest dreams were for marriage to a devoted Christian husband, and a captivating one came along, intelligent and clever and it was soon apparent that they were a matched pair. He had been looking his whole life for her.
They married and make their home in Randolph, MA. Their apartment is near the bus routes that they know by heart, and their electric wheelchairs take them on historical excursions into their beloved Boston when the weather is nice and their health is good.
It is a better than good life. Theirs is a rich and savory marriage that is an inspiration and example to us all.
A few months back John was experiencing symptoms that made doctors suspect hemmoroids or colon cancer. The evaluative colonoscopy procedure six weeks ago contributed to John having a heart attack and he has been recovering in a nursing care facility and unable to be home with Deb to help them both prepare for surgery day.
The surgery is admittedly high risk with John's polio that has compromised both his respiration and immune systems. It is scheduled for Tuesday, and they have put the outcome entirely in God's hands but are fighting back a profound sense of fear.
Deb is reliant on the generosity of her church and bus schedules to travel in to see John. Often the trip takes longer than their visit itself, since everything is contingent on John's health and how long he can receive visitors, even from his wife.
Their abiding faith is rock iron strong, but I hope you will pray until and through the surgery and on the days following, for John's strength and endurance and also for Deb, who fears today's visit with her husband may be her last.
John and Debbie Kespert, please know you are in our prayers.
I met Deb when I was 18, and I know of her that she has always had limitless dreams, the ones that are in color and combine the virtual and physical worlds. And through pushing herself into life and over obstacles that John came into her life.
Her deepest dreams were for marriage to a devoted Christian husband, and a captivating one came along, intelligent and clever and it was soon apparent that they were a matched pair. He had been looking his whole life for her.
They married and make their home in Randolph, MA. Their apartment is near the bus routes that they know by heart, and their electric wheelchairs take them on historical excursions into their beloved Boston when the weather is nice and their health is good.
It is a better than good life. Theirs is a rich and savory marriage that is an inspiration and example to us all.
A few months back John was experiencing symptoms that made doctors suspect hemmoroids or colon cancer. The evaluative colonoscopy procedure six weeks ago contributed to John having a heart attack and he has been recovering in a nursing care facility and unable to be home with Deb to help them both prepare for surgery day.
The surgery is admittedly high risk with John's polio that has compromised both his respiration and immune systems. It is scheduled for Tuesday, and they have put the outcome entirely in God's hands but are fighting back a profound sense of fear.
Deb is reliant on the generosity of her church and bus schedules to travel in to see John. Often the trip takes longer than their visit itself, since everything is contingent on John's health and how long he can receive visitors, even from his wife.
Their abiding faith is rock iron strong, but I hope you will pray until and through the surgery and on the days following, for John's strength and endurance and also for Deb, who fears today's visit with her husband may be her last.
John and Debbie Kespert, please know you are in our prayers.
May 11, 2012
What is to Come
To love where you spend your work time is probably the best gift ever. It's crazy busy sometimes, and frantic sometimes, but nothing like *before*, and all those years afraid of change because it was hard to envision how much better it could be.
I was invited to join the Site Safety Committee team yesterday. That bridges some of the fun parts of my last job. It is important and purposeful to study compliance statutes and regs, perform inspections and keep up the MSDS binders. Safety First.
Today is also the day for the news that the hubs has found a new worklife. The opportunity came out of the blue. A call, a meet up, a kickaround idea session, and from that came a real, bonafide job offer. The company is out of SF, but they saw the potential in Sac and jumped in to cover the territory. The hubs along with his bidding buddy will start on the 14th. We let out a collective sigh of relief: good/we can stay.
Change is still that unwieldy bronco, but we've climbed aboard just long enough to turn her away from the fence. And so with the house on the market, and a job in the pocket, things seem a little more tucked in and ready for the possibilities of what is to come. Thank Heavens.
I was invited to join the Site Safety Committee team yesterday. That bridges some of the fun parts of my last job. It is important and purposeful to study compliance statutes and regs, perform inspections and keep up the MSDS binders. Safety First.
Today is also the day for the news that the hubs has found a new worklife. The opportunity came out of the blue. A call, a meet up, a kickaround idea session, and from that came a real, bonafide job offer. The company is out of SF, but they saw the potential in Sac and jumped in to cover the territory. The hubs along with his bidding buddy will start on the 14th. We let out a collective sigh of relief: good/we can stay.
Change is still that unwieldy bronco, but we've climbed aboard just long enough to turn her away from the fence. And so with the house on the market, and a job in the pocket, things seem a little more tucked in and ready for the possibilities of what is to come. Thank Heavens.
May 10, 2012
The Squiggle
As part of birthday week and with the hubs out of town, I had dinner with el hijo de numero tres and Jenn last night at the Cheesecake Factory, and that meant only one thing ... dessert first. There wasn't even a discussion about it. I sat down and they handed me the dessert menu.
It took 10 minutes to look over the 100 or so choices, butwe I settled on an apple streusel cheesecake that turned out to be a contender for best dessert ever. It was the Lion King of desserts. I was fortunate to share it because I am absolutely sure I would have eaten it all and licked the plate clean.
Dessert first. There's so many wonderful things about it, I scarcely know where to begin. The meal gets off on the right foot, for one. It's a chummy way to socialize without anyone getting full or feeling too guilty, so the whole rest of the meal is happy.
It reconnects our reason and common sense. True. The dessert is ordered and eaten while having a long discussion over the menu entrees. No one ends up too empty to over-order that full rack of ribs with a loaded baked potato. So something smaller becomes more appealing and health because OBVIOUSLY every want and need has already been met.
It allows maximum digestion by eating it early, thus becoming less likely to be plaster-of-paris'ed to your ass. (That must be my medical background talking. Ya, that's it.)
It eliminates the temptation to indulge in the appetizer before an eyes-too-big-for-your-stomach entree. So in addition to all the other wonderfulness, it helps you keep make better choices AND come in under budget.
But the real reason to do it is for the joyful expressions I see. Life is too short not to do it! And the way I figure it, if everything was meant to go in a straight line, they wouldn't have invented the squiggle.
It took 10 minutes to look over the 100 or so choices, but
Dessert first. There's so many wonderful things about it, I scarcely know where to begin. The meal gets off on the right foot, for one. It's a chummy way to socialize without anyone getting full or feeling too guilty, so the whole rest of the meal is happy.
It reconnects our reason and common sense. True. The dessert is ordered and eaten while having a long discussion over the menu entrees. No one ends up too empty to over-order that full rack of ribs with a loaded baked potato. So something smaller becomes more appealing and health because OBVIOUSLY every want and need has already been met.
It allows maximum digestion by eating it early, thus becoming less likely to be plaster-of-paris'ed to your ass. (That must be my medical background talking. Ya, that's it.)
It eliminates the temptation to indulge in the appetizer before an eyes-too-big-for-your-stomach entree. So in addition to all the other wonderfulness, it helps you keep make better choices AND come in under budget.
But the real reason to do it is for the joyful expressions I see. Life is too short not to do it! And the way I figure it, if everything was meant to go in a straight line, they wouldn't have invented the squiggle.
May 9, 2012
Always La Bella Vita
I kissed the hubs today as he headed off on a business trip. His transitional phase has begun, and mine, too, I mused on the ride home. Tuesday the house was listed, with everything shiny and clean and ready for them. And this marks his last day of the job he has had for the last 14 years.
I am sitting here by myself in perfect quiet in a perfectly clean house, expecting to feel - nostalgia? melancholy? - but I feel absolute calm. I didn't expect to be able to savor the moment. But I am lording over no dustbunnies or dishes in the sink, and loving this home more than ever before.
One of the reasons I ticked off the houses I've owned*loved*left is to remind myself of the process. I know I didn't buy it or pick the kitchen countertops here, but the hubs and I fell in love here, I met and came to love his family and embraced the community. Our neighbors are friends that we socialize and spend time with. Our community knows us, and we connect with them. And I am well aware that change will be hard for more than just us.
This morning as I wiped down the counters and staged things just right, I saw this for the first time as a gift we are giving ourselves, to open another even better chapter. It will be hard to leave the keys on the counter one day soon, but we will.
I can almost feel the little pirate ship surge along the track and just before taking flight hear the excited words of Peter Pan invite use along, with 'Come on, everybody, Here we go...'
I am sitting here by myself in perfect quiet in a perfectly clean house, expecting to feel - nostalgia? melancholy? - but I feel absolute calm. I didn't expect to be able to savor the moment. But I am lording over no dustbunnies or dishes in the sink, and loving this home more than ever before.
One of the reasons I ticked off the houses I've owned*loved*left is to remind myself of the process. I know I didn't buy it or pick the kitchen countertops here, but the hubs and I fell in love here, I met and came to love his family and embraced the community. Our neighbors are friends that we socialize and spend time with. Our community knows us, and we connect with them. And I am well aware that change will be hard for more than just us.
This morning as I wiped down the counters and staged things just right, I saw this for the first time as a gift we are giving ourselves, to open another even better chapter. It will be hard to leave the keys on the counter one day soon, but we will.
I can almost feel the little pirate ship surge along the track and just before taking flight hear the excited words of Peter Pan invite use along, with 'Come on, everybody, Here we go...'
May 4, 2012
Be Being Been
The never-me moment arrived last night after a call from a finance guy who was explaining the short sale process, and flushing out generally what to expect, any options we have, and how it might play out.
After we rang off, tempers heated up, not at each other but at IT (the situation, the banks, the lenders, the real estate scam, take your pick). It was all bad. And then one thing jumps to another and before you know it we are howling at the moon about global warming and Obamacare.
Somewhere mid rant it dawned on me that this is what it must be like to be off the grid. Ignored when things are going well and ignored when things aren't. We have nothing to offer, nothing to leverage, no card to play. In fact, we're invisible.
Ashamedly, good credit is not rewarded and the sacrifices of that have no yield. Three attempted refis to manage the whole debt, and a sea of loan modification paperwork, all ignored. The financial industry should be ashamed of themselves. I wish they were.
There's nothing to grapple with, or a way to shake off the shame of it. Oh how I miss my favorite part of speech in today's language ~ the helping verb. Those cheerful little words make a language smile. All you hear now is the stern silence of *no*not*never*. To heck with that noise! Let's get on with some helping verb action:
It is possible.
I am listening.
We are here.
You were responsible.
It will be alright.
We have received your request.
We will look into how to help you.
Do keep up the good work.
What you do does matter.
It has been a long road but you must keep on.
Things will improve. You can count on that.
After we rang off, tempers heated up, not at each other but at IT (the situation, the banks, the lenders, the real estate scam, take your pick). It was all bad. And then one thing jumps to another and before you know it we are howling at the moon about global warming and Obamacare.
Somewhere mid rant it dawned on me that this is what it must be like to be off the grid. Ignored when things are going well and ignored when things aren't. We have nothing to offer, nothing to leverage, no card to play. In fact, we're invisible.
Ashamedly, good credit is not rewarded and the sacrifices of that have no yield. Three attempted refis to manage the whole debt, and a sea of loan modification paperwork, all ignored. The financial industry should be ashamed of themselves. I wish they were.
As I was walking up a stair, I met a man who wasn' there
He wasn't there again today, Oh how I wish he'd go away.
There's nothing to grapple with, or a way to shake off the shame of it. Oh how I miss my favorite part of speech in today's language ~ the helping verb. Those cheerful little words make a language smile. All you hear now is the stern silence of *no*not*never*. To heck with that noise! Let's get on with some helping verb action:
It is possible.
I am listening.
We are here.
You were responsible.
It will be alright.
We have received your request.
We will look into how to help you.
Do keep up the good work.
What you do does matter.
It has been a long road but you must keep on.
Things will improve. You can count on that.
May 3, 2012
Nothing Less
The WDLD house is on the market on Tuesday, and we wade through the process of not knowing where it will lead. We focus today on putting things away, planting and organizing for the housewalkers and lookyloos that we do not know.
What makes the house a home is slowly being packed up and put in storage. Maybe it's just as well for a physical dawning of disconnecting so the emotional dawning will follow.
Once bidders look and like and bid, and the normal offers come around and are signed, it heads to the bank who is the real decisionmaker. It could take months, or weeks, or more, depending on what the bank decides.
People continually ask, where will you live? We have no idea. We have no choice in any of the things a seller typically chooses: who, what, when, and how. There are opinions of course about how it will work, but each situation is different and so no one really knows.
Now that the Wall of Fame is down, we at least don't have family faces smiling down at us over a dinner where we are discussing the best way to pass off the home they love.
We'll figure it out. Our prayers are not asking to be given the house, but for patience and peace in the process, and a fair resolution that can help move the house from our loving hands to their loving hands. It would be easier all around if we knew at least that.
What makes the house a home is slowly being packed up and put in storage. Maybe it's just as well for a physical dawning of disconnecting so the emotional dawning will follow.
Once bidders look and like and bid, and the normal offers come around and are signed, it heads to the bank who is the real decisionmaker. It could take months, or weeks, or more, depending on what the bank decides.
People continually ask, where will you live? We have no idea. We have no choice in any of the things a seller typically chooses: who, what, when, and how. There are opinions of course about how it will work, but each situation is different and so no one really knows.
Now that the Wall of Fame is down, we at least don't have family faces smiling down at us over a dinner where we are discussing the best way to pass off the home they love.
We'll figure it out. Our prayers are not asking to be given the house, but for patience and peace in the process, and a fair resolution that can help move the house from our loving hands to their loving hands. It would be easier all around if we knew at least that.
May 2, 2012
An Interesting Question
It is on my mind these days, to do the right thing. To know what the right thing is, in these days when the options all seem wrong.
I was thinking back on my very first house, the one that started my love affair with home ownership, with its ratty carpet and drapes, unkept yards with swampy corners and dense overgrown brush. I squeaked into the world of home ownership with a bit of a fudge for including a modest monthly dividend to my income knowing it was to be cashed in for the down. Otherwise, we would have missed out by $35.
Over the next six years, Loretto was scrubbed and painted and renovated and landscaped into a home, and sold to neighbors for a modest profit which was rolled into house number two. (They made over $100K just three short years later in the housing boom of the late 80s, and moved to a bigger more posh place in Santa Rosa.)
Timing is everything, as evidence by the purchase of a new home in Phoenix, at the top of the bubble that Charles Keating caused by speculative land purchases for which he spent six years in prison. All homes are down, plus $20K more of improvements and landscaping are giveaways with a job transfer. We were *relieved* to sell by owner just below what was owed.
We bought in Ohio by owner and sold it by owner, all in 10 months. Damn fool judgment and lack of adaptability caused this yoyo move. We shot back to CA as a contented renter until an additional $10K tax bill depleted what little savings there was and we realized a tax shelter was badly needed.
House 4 was Amaretto, with fifty wild rose bushes, ratty carpet and drapes, unkept yards with dense overgrown brush. Again, a slow and steady approach to discovering a home, scrub*paint*renovate*landscape, and somewhere to raise the kids. Only this time the big dividends came around and it was us who moved them forward into house 5.
Dunstan went up up up, before the current economic tailspin. Now the down payment and improvements are part of the loss differential for those in the unfortunate position to need to sell. Thank God we aren't.
The advantage of a tax shelter is big, but the home ownership math is compelling, too. So what makes it so alluring ... and when owning doesn't pan out, what prompts a return to do it over and over again?
House 1: gain at sale $0K
House 2: loss at sale $35K
House 3: loss at sale $10K
House 4: gain at sale $40K
House 5: currently in loss mode but no plans to sell
That's an interesting question.
I was thinking back on my very first house, the one that started my love affair with home ownership, with its ratty carpet and drapes, unkept yards with swampy corners and dense overgrown brush. I squeaked into the world of home ownership with a bit of a fudge for including a modest monthly dividend to my income knowing it was to be cashed in for the down. Otherwise, we would have missed out by $35.
Over the next six years, Loretto was scrubbed and painted and renovated and landscaped into a home, and sold to neighbors for a modest profit which was rolled into house number two. (They made over $100K just three short years later in the housing boom of the late 80s, and moved to a bigger more posh place in Santa Rosa.)
Timing is everything, as evidence by the purchase of a new home in Phoenix, at the top of the bubble that Charles Keating caused by speculative land purchases for which he spent six years in prison. All homes are down, plus $20K more of improvements and landscaping are giveaways with a job transfer. We were *relieved* to sell by owner just below what was owed.
We bought in Ohio by owner and sold it by owner, all in 10 months. Damn fool judgment and lack of adaptability caused this yoyo move. We shot back to CA as a contented renter until an additional $10K tax bill depleted what little savings there was and we realized a tax shelter was badly needed.
House 4 was Amaretto, with fifty wild rose bushes, ratty carpet and drapes, unkept yards with dense overgrown brush. Again, a slow and steady approach to discovering a home, scrub*paint*renovate*landscape, and somewhere to raise the kids. Only this time the big dividends came around and it was us who moved them forward into house 5.
Dunstan went up up up, before the current economic tailspin. Now the down payment and improvements are part of the loss differential for those in the unfortunate position to need to sell. Thank God we aren't.
The advantage of a tax shelter is big, but the home ownership math is compelling, too. So what makes it so alluring ... and when owning doesn't pan out, what prompts a return to do it over and over again?
House 1: gain at sale $0K
House 2: loss at sale $35K
House 3: loss at sale $10K
House 4: gain at sale $40K
House 5: currently in loss mode but no plans to sell
That's an interesting question.
May 1, 2012
Relay For Life Founder Diagnosed With Stomach Cancer
Posted on May 1, 2012 by Sabriya Rice
Dr. Gordy Klatt, founder of the American Cancer Society Relay For Life program, says he has been diagnosed with stomach cancer. In an email to Society staff, Klatt stated:
“Throughout the years I have spoken and written about how cancer can personally affect everyone. It affects the rich, the poor, and all nationalities and cultures around the world. About 4 weeks ago I was diagnosed with stomach cancer and I have begun my battle with this disease using chemotherapy.”
Klatt is also scheduled to have surgery this summer. Despite his condition, he is tentatively planning to attend his local Relay in June.
Relay For Life started in the mid-1980s in Tacoma, Washington when Klatt, a colorectal surgeon, wanted to enhance the income of his local American Cancer Society. He decided to personally raise money for the fight by doing something he enjoyed — running marathons.
In the spring of 1985, Klatt spent 24 hours going around a local track –more than 83 miles – and throughout the night, nearly 300 people paid money to run or walk at intervals with him. He raised $27,000, and the experience led to his vision of 24-hour relay teams that raise money for cancer research.
Klatt’s vision turned into an annual program which has raised more than $4.8 billion, and has been an inspiration for millions of cancer survivors, caregivers and communities across the globe.
From Atlanta to Kuala Lumpur, local Relays are just getting underway for the 2012 season which runs each year from April through August. In his email, Klatt encouraged participants to keep up the fight.
“I am even more energized to defeat this disease worldwide. I will again be with all of you in spirit this Relay season – even more so this year. Celebrate the survivors; remember those who lost the battle and fight back! We all need to celebrate more birthdays and by relaying we keep the hope alive through education, community involvement and fundraising for ongoing research.”
Regarding the news, Reuel Johnson, national vice president for Relay For Life offers this message for participants:
“The best way we can pay tribute and honor Gordy is to redouble our efforts in the 2012 Relay season … adding one more team, one more team member or one more additional donation…. and creating an extra meaningful Relay experience for those touched by that Relay spirit that we all learned from Gordy. Let’s all commit to lighting a special luminaria in honor of the founder of Relay at every Relay across the world.”
For more information on Relay for Life visit RelayForLife.org. For press inquiries contact sabriya.rice@cancer.org.
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