Happy New Year?

Low and behold; in my corner of the world agents are celebrating "Realtor New Year" on November 19. To the outside world, this might seem a bit strange -- a bunch of agents cavorting around the neighborhood, happy smiling celebrating taking tme off -- wait a tad, they are like that all year! So what be the reason for this date, and I may add, the flurry of activity going about as they get ready for the horns and hoopla on the 19th?

Agents in these last few days before the BIG 19 have been out in force trying to get a "deal" in. "Ya wanna buy a house?" Hey buddy...yeah you...c'mere...looks like you needs a house for a good time...You get the pitcure. Why why why?

Ahh, dear reader, the answer lies in the calendar... Let us look. 31 days in December plus those days from the 19th through the 30th of November, that makes, let's see 1, 2 3...12. Add that to the 31 and you get 45 days.

AND 45 days the benchmark used by agents. From the time an offer is written until the "papers" have passed is a standard (so we try) span of 45 days. Get some shnook to sign on the dotted line on November 18, and you get your agent check on December 31. Ink the contract on NOVEMBER 19 and BANG! 45 days later your agent commission check is there -- IN JANUARY! Happy New Year.

I should wonder about this, and how buyers and sellers are served by this and the countdown to moneymoneymoney, but, as an agent told me, "So long as the clients don't know, so what?"

OOOPS I just told you! And now you know something new about your agent. I just hope your New Year's Resolutions include learning something new.

Happy Birthday Internet

Forty years ago today, a message "lo" was sent from the University of California to The Stanford Institute. It was the FIRST Internet message (Al Gore was NOT there). With this in mind I look about the Real Estate world and what do I see? Nothing. Nothing has changed. In fact in spite of what they say, 89% of buyers go the the broker they know, not the one the Internet. Internet sites may give someone information, but when it comes to hard knocks, folks are knocking on the local doors. So keep on texting folks, everybody knows my name (and my face well, in the flesh). Its all good for business here on the cement highway...

"Swine" Flu

What with all the the talk of the above noted malady, there seems to be a trend towards NOT shaking hands. This, the idea of "shaking hands" in itself, begs a full article, what with countless pointers and directions about time, speed, and intensity of grip all playing into the A, B, C personality crap, but herewith, we are focusing on an singular episode. Read on...

Yesterday, I was asked to escort an agent to his new listing -- a BIG home; grand in all scales, not the least of them all was its age as well as the age of the owner. The owner, an elderly matron had, it seems, raised a whole family of children in the home. Those seedlings, now all sprung to full bloom in diaspora fashion across the globe, and husband, now gone to reward, the elderly woman decided to put the home on the market:

"Such a big home for such a small old lady," she said as my young agent friend brought me forward.

"Mrs. XXXXX, I want you to meet Al. He's my mentor, a great guy who knows everything about this area."

"Hello," she says, with a stern look of motherly scorn.

"Pleased to meet you," I say and I reach out to, yes, shake her hand...

"Heavens no," she says, and she recoils a feeble step.

"Oh, I am ever so sorry," I aver, "what with all the talk of swine flu and shaking hands, what must I have been thinking?"

Just then she applies: It has nothing to do with swine flu, young man. I just do not want to shake YOUR hand, now or ever! You were a bad boy, a bad little boy...do you know how long it took me to get those stickers off the bathroom mirror?!?!"

Stickers, bathroom mirror...oh yes, Bugs Bunny, Foghorn Leghorn, Yosemite Sam, and yes Porky Pig...I just have been 4 years old when I visited a strange home, for what reason I shall never know, and in a moment of childhood creativity, found some stokers in a room somewhere and plastered them all over a mirror. IT WAS THIS HOUSE!

"Bad boy," she said. You left without telling anyone. You deserved to be fully reprimanded. You were a sloppy dirty little pig of a child. I hope you have corrected yourself!

I am, again, 4 years old.....

"Now go...," she points to the kitchen, "in there, on the counter is aplate of fresh cookies. Take a napkin, and NO crumbs, I say!"

And this as picked up from AOL this morn...

Maybe I should open up a category for Garden "tips" for this one, but for now, humor will do just fine, thank you...

"Couple Reports Garden Stolen by Neighbor"

"A couple who moved abroad returned to their Staffordshire, UK home to find their backyard garden had been "stolen."

"Linzi and Phil Wood claim that while they were at their new home in Lanzarote, their entire garden -- including the shed, plants, plant hangers and path rocks -- were all moved to their next door neighbor's yard, a story by the Daily Mail reported. Even their flowers were replanted next door, the story said.

"The Wood's, who are trying to sell the house, claim their neighbor said he bought a ready-made garden from a third party, not realizing that it was coming from their home, the story said. Police are investigating the theft."

A Self Serving Call to Action

The below quote came to me from my lobbying group, the National Association of Realtors. One wonders about these things. It is a plea to keep yet one more bail out going. The famous $8,000 to first time buyers is, after all just another bailout: it gives 8 grand to folks who may not deserve it and take it away from those who earned it (in the form of more debt to pay in the future -- which will be paid by rising taxes). At the risk of losing the love of my fellow agents, I say no; no to any of this. Let us all work hard, try hard, take a bit longer to recover, if necessary, but let us stop this govenmant mandated re-allocation of wealth.

Read the text:

"We have all seen first-hand the positive impact the first-time homebuyer tax credit is having on the real estate market recovery. As the expiration date for this successful program looms, we ALL need to make sure that Congress hears from us about the positive impact this program has had and ask them to extend it, and expand it, so that we can continue to see our markets fully recover."

Back to School Redux

A lot of folks in my corner of the world seemed a bit put off by my flippant remarks and clear joy at the return of school. Unapologetic to the end, I hearwith join my Navy heritage to the return to school. Let's all sing along to the tune of "Anchor's Away!"

My kid's away, thank god!
My kid's away...
She's off at boarding school
for Ninety bucks a day ay ay, HEY!

'Though it's a lot to pay,
no gripes you'll see.
'Cause if there are,
then they will
ship her back,
they'll ship her back to me!

In My LIttle Corner of the World

In my little corner of the world, the kids are going back to school. Today... Yesterday, you could sense the emotion; the little ones were out in force on the nice day, soaking up the sun, trying to get in the last bit of play. I spent much of the day in a park. It was interesting to see the dynamics: for the kids, gone were the camps and rules. Left to their own devices, they made games out of rocks and sticks, jumping and running, scoring on a point system that was duly invented for the moment and is now forgotten.

There seemed to be more bicycles out and about on this last day. A few kids were testing out new sneakers. Some older kids, high school bound, were jockeying for position on the bully ladder, using fashion the way, in my day, they used a fist.

Some parents are tearful as that whole "sunrise, sunset" thing kicks in. Others are thoughtful at the "circle of life" gig going on. A couple skulking in the corner are fully giddy at the prospect of the kids gone -- they are having an affair.

In a few days, the patterns that will dictate our lives will full into place, and we will all move on, a bit diminished by the last summer gone in a fast declining decade.

For those of us in real estate, the fall means a return to business: folks will re-assess themselves, make "New Year" resolutions and wonder, wonder about what to do next. Homes will be marketed, and homes will be sold.

So it goes in Belmont. Summer comes to a crashing end. This morning feels cold, although it is, according to the weather service, just like yesterday. But take heart -- Labor Day is just around the corner.

60 Onley Street, Watertown by the numbers

A Fabulous Opportunity up and down the line! Open House on 8/23/09 12-1:30. Se you there at 60 Olney Street, Watertown, MA. Just click the title link above for full information.

Change with the Coffee

Sitting in a coffee shop milking a refill when this lady gives me the eyeball. At least I think she's giving me the eyeball; she may be just trying to read the artist's name on the painting crucified on the wall just above my head. What ever the case, it behooves me to play non-chalant; go into "sipping Martini mode" -- get the posture up, Dean Martin myself!

It does not take long before she's on the move. Now mind you, this bean emporium is the size of some bathrooms, 5 tables and a counter (ya want a men's room? go across the street to the hardware store), yet it seems to take forever for her to cover the six floor tiles that separate the two of us.

Now, after a vortex of eternity, she's "in my space" and I have turned on the charm button.

"Nice picture," she says, and I look up at the painting... "No, I mean here, on your promo material", and she lifts one of my fliers out of her somewhat well used Gucci. "I've been getting your stuff at my place for a long time now. I like the way you actually look like your picture...I was going to call you, but I saw you here and figured, why not, how nasty could he be? the worst he could say is 'no' and send me to make an appointment at his office."

I allow her a seat.

I'm thinking Playboy moment here just as she chimes in with the "411":

She's into a condo bought in 2004. She's out of a job. She's got trouble. In a nonce, my Playboy moment is gone, and in my mind's eye and I am now flipping through the Economist as I give her the skivvy on ways and means for her.

"God," she says, "What should I do first?" Her voice betrays the butterflies in her gut.

"It is Saturday," I remark, "do your laundry,... groceries,... go to the beach. That is what you should do. Your world is NOT coming to an end; it is just going to change, that's all. We'll talk on Monday."

"Funny," she says, "I feel better, somehow. I'll see you Monday, afternoon OK?"

...and so it goes on this early Saturday A.M. in a coffee shop in Belmont. The waitress took my money and returned with my change. I left it on the table for her as a tip. A lot of change -- for a lot of people.

And they wonder why they can't afford a home...

Oh please click on the link. No doubt the housewife bloggers (Bored Lazy Overwight Gals) will pick up on this stuff and get hubby to shag down for this crap in the name of essentia. I can almost feel the chubby fingers of the Oprah babes pirating the words to make up their own articles. So take the link babes!!! Save energy. Maybe you can have a bit left over tonight to do something nice for hubby (like a job at the 7-11).Junk for Baby