MICRO economics in Belmont

It has been a long and dispiriting spring followed by a dismal summer that saw long time stores shutter up all around my little corner of the world. The Auto Parts guy in Cushing Square is in the process of pulling his spark plugs -- the EVERYTHING MUST GO sign screams across Common Street. No more can a soul buy fudge down Trapelo Road, and the print shop one passes on the way has run out of ink -- the building is now forlorn and for sale. An electrician has moved into the storefront that was once a takeout chicken joint: "I don't need a store front," he told me, "but the price was right." The old bookstore in the center of town

Of all the shuttered businesses about, the one that is most surprising is my maid: she stopped coming in June. For the better part of ten years, she had been mopping and wiping the the ne'er-do-well issue of my life, finding shoes I have left scattered about, washing dishes, putting the glow on my hardwoods, vacuuming out of the rug the evidence of my retreating hairline, and in general working her skill on those things and utilities about which modesty forbids description.

I did some "jungle drum" research into the woebegone circumstances...it appears she was illegal, I have been told. She was a regular traveller to and back from Brazil. As far As I can guess, she did the trip one too many times. I have been visited by at least seven "new" Brazilians, all claiming to be the extension of my maid's business. I have chosen none of them.

If the dismal summer taught me anything, it was a real lesson in MACROeconomics by way of the MICRO. You see, I have been sweeping the floors myself, mopping, putting away my shoes, and what nots, and doing exactly all the things I should have been doing in the first place. My home is tidy, fit for me, if not for a king, AND I am saving 63 smackers a week -- that's 63 bucks staying inside the US economy, yup 63 bucks a week that I will use here -- maybe an extra Trombone lesson for the kid, or maybe, after a year, well let us see -- that is almost $3,300 dollars! That is the down payment on that new Chevy Cruze that is going to be the hot car of 2011!

They say that illegals are doing jobs WE do not want to do. I say, they are doing jobs that need NOT be done. We are overly conspicuous in our consumption. We do not need some of the services we buy. As a cleaner, I am doing just fine, thank you...a few minutes a day here and there and I am at one with my home. I have reconnected with the nooks and crannies (and found things I should have discarded years ago not to mention things I should have held closer to my thoughts, but instead dumped behind the file cabinets). And, of course, there is the exercise; I am feeling fit and trim as I putter about the halls of the castle, deep-kneeing my way into the closets and squatting to swipe the dust from under the futon.

And I have begun to think -- what if we all cleaned our own homes, mowed our lawn lawns, did our own nails? In my corner of the world, the landscaper's truck and trailer is longer than the street frontage of many homes...do we really need their services? Are we so busy at the gym that we cannot find 15 minutes and get our exercise pushing the rotaries across the grass?

For me, I see a win win...my apparently illegal maid has left the country, a situation that most folks feel needs to be replicated 10 million more times...and I have a new stash of cash in my pocket. What to do with it?...a great economic question, stay tuned.

Toys for Tots

Drop off your toys at 161 Mount Auburn St. in Watertown. Yesterday someone dropped off a great baseball glove; we've got two bicycles and lots of dolls...some kool games that all of us will remember...I promise I won't play with anything -- although that Playdough looks mighty inviting...

Open house here 4-8 PM on December 12 -- This Friday night upcoming. Cocktails and Hors D'Oeuves served. Last year I had kids playing floor hockey in the basement -- this year. Maybe this year the old folks will play, too.

CALL ME AT 617.470.8085 FOR INFO.

Sittin' in the Nest Egg

It seems Americans are optimistic about their homes. According to Rasmussen at least. The pollster has put numbers out on his site that show, "Fifty-nine percent (59%) of American homeowners expect thier home to go up over the next five years". Delving deeper into the numbers, the report avers that 10% think thier homes value will go down. 21% think they'll be kissing their sister, as t he saying goes (in other words, getting nowehere. 10% don't know...

It is that 10% where we may well see the smartest home folk in the world. Afterall, who prices a house everyday? Walks home and checks the bid and the ask on the properties on the lining Main Street? Afterall, the homeonwer owns -- a home not a commodity. Anyone who bought the ranch with an eye on the capital gain and not the living room went about it all the wrong way. Best to have invested in stock certificates.

No the home is more than an investment. If it's value drops in dollars, it does not necassarilymean in drops nthe intrinsics of warmth, comradery, and memories developed behind its walls. A home is a place of well being and health, a place to go -- not a place to market...save that for the fishmongers.

No doubt Rasmussen will hatch and other survey in the next few days. You may wish to, after dinner, sit in the ol' easy chair and read before bedtime.

10,000 Steps, Again...

Our bodies are essentially the same sacks of matter as the bodies of the folks living in these parts some 10,000 years ago. Now I know someone is going to say we are better than the primordal coot rubbing sticks together for a fire as the better half sits in the mud hut, but really when you think about it, are not we that way now? I mean give it some thought and you will note that our homes are brick, stone, cement, stucco -- whatever: when you ponder it, all that stuff is essentially glorified mud. And as for the fire, well, my neighbor took a good half hour getting the briquettes sizzling so he could grill up the ol' brontoburgers this week end just done.

Where we do DO differ is in our methods of locomotion. 10,000 years ago our humanoid ancestor was more like the traveling salesman -- except he had to travel, find the pig, then kill it before he could bring home the bacon for pre-history's answer to the BLT.

Today there is the Stop and Shop, or the Shaw's or any other emporium you may name. And we don't chase and kill the Impala -- we drive in it.

We no longer are taking our 10,000 steps a day. We are Virtual touring, Virtual office"ing", Virtual everything. Except our food is not Virtual. And we are getting fat. We eat too much.

Think it over and you will see how, in even the last 20 years, we have lost our steps: The media remote everytime we change a channel -- 15 steps lost; the cell in our pocket -- 30 steps lost everytime we do not get up to answer the call; the drive through window -- 100 steps; the Hallmark email greeting to Grandma instead of the letter mailed -- 250 steps to and from the Post Box.

Every 25 steps a person takes will burn 1 Calorie. The above examples measure up to about 16 calories of fat stuck on the ribs. Those 10,000 steps we do not take represent about 400 calories of surplus lobbering down there; turning that belly button from an "outy" into an "inny".

What does this have to do with Real Estate? Well, how about scrapping that Virtual tour and taking a real one? Pick your town and walk the streets, hear the birds, feel the pavement under your feet and see if a tax assessment may be in the offing (no V-tour will show that). Then, if you are in my area, call me and I'll walk over and meet you at the corner of Elm and Godin with a lock box key to anything you want to see.

From the Home Front

Two stories crossed the wires that, when combined, offer a tantalizing look at what? the markets?

The first is Viagra -- that, yes, it may actually work for women! Now, there is a caveat -- anything with women has to have a caveat. It may only work with women who are on anti-depressant drugs, so I reckon, there is no caveat after all -- they are all on A-DCs.

The second is that women are leaving the workforce to become, dare I say it Stay-at-home-moms? No doubt there will be some more business like token for the spot on a kin with "multi lateral business development manager in charge of base operations" but that is another story.

Put those two dittys together, and more babies cannot be far off. Who says the housing bust is a bust! Dad will soon be working overtime to support the new ranch Mrs. Postpartum is crying for...

Unless...there is another scenario. The world is already full of housewives clipping information form one site and pasting into their own as "CONTENT" on their BLOGS. The term blog. I believe is named for them -- Bored, Lazy, Overweight, Gals. There are a gajillion of them out there, but there is room for a few thousand more whining hags like "One Chic Mama". Oh puhleeze, goils!!! Can't you just sit home and wash the diapers? No one really wants to know about this over priced gizmo or that unnecessary junk that hubby will have to buy for you.

Save the money, you are going to need it for the down-payment...or the Viagra.

What Goes Around, Comes Around (or Circle of LIfe)

This right out of CNN. Didn't we ALL want to work from home?....

ROSWELL, Georgia (CNN) -- More than a decade after the Internet allowed millions of people to work at home, the next phase of telecommuting involves, well, not working at home.


Web developer Toby Ho, left, has joined a coworking group called "Jelly" in Roswell, Georgia.

1 of 4 Organized "coworking" -- the concept of working solo alongside like-minded independents -- has spread to dozens of cities.

The irony of coworking isn't lost on organizers, including Kevin Bachman, who set up a group north of Atlanta as part of an informal Web-based network called Jelly.

"The reason people work alone, is because they're looking for freedom," said Bachman, a 34-year-old Web developer who telecommutes part time. "It may be ironic that you crave isolation, but you also want to be socially interactive with others like you." See how Jelly works together »

Once a month, Bachman's group takes over a room provided by Tony's American Grille & Tap. A handful of home-based Internet workers hunch over laptops writing code, tweaking administration systems or enhancing databases.

"It's a great way to get out of your bubble," said Bachman.

Tony's doubles as a neighborhood sports bar at night, complete with a "beer pong" game table and projection TVs. But during the day, this location takes on a more business-like tone as colleagues help each other work, said Randall, a freelance database programmer who wouldn't give his last name.

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"I've probably gotten some tips just today from people that had the same problems that I've had," he said. "So, all-in-all it's been a productive day and it's not even 2 o'clock yet."

Coworking also provides an oasis for nomadic coffee-bar campers who struggle to collaborate among a random crowd.

"Starbucks was a place to get out of the house and be around other people," said Sherry Heyl, a Jelly coworker and home-based social media consultant. "But you can't turn to the person next to you at Starbucks and say, 'Can you look at this proposal and tell me if it looks all right or check it for typos?'"

Coworking is gaining popularity as number of single-person businesses in the United States is skyrocketing.

The nation added nearly 4 million one-person businesses between 2000 and 2005, according to the U.S. Census Bureau.

Back in 2005, Web programmer Javan Makhmali said he was "missing the work atmosphere to get me in the zone -- to get work done" at his home office in Portland, Oregon. So he and a few friends created a coworking cooperative and called it -- appropriately -- Less Distracted. Watch more about how coworking works »

"We found a space in a cool warehouse, put an ad on craigslist and Less Distracted was pretty much born like that," said Makhmali, a 27-year-old computer programmer.

By early 2006, a 1,500 square foot space in the North Coast Seed building was filled with more than a dozen other programmers and designers looking to break out of their home offices.

In exchange for a $100 deposit and $150 per month for utilities, tenants get 24/7 use of DSL Internet, Wi-Fi, a kitchenette and a hang-out area with couches for meetings and relaxing.

The Less Distracted Web site describes it as "your own space that's not in your living room and certainly not a cube."

Ryan Tyler, another original tenant, said coworking made a huge improvement in his productivity, while allowing him to make quite a few friends and great business contacts through the office.

The idea that home-based workers are returning to officelike environments isn't surprising to close followers of the commercial real estate business.

"For at least 50 years 'experts' have said technology will eliminate office demand," said real estate consultant Prof. Peter Linneman of the Wharton School of Business. "But the evidence clearly shows that we use ever more office space as technology advances."

Coworking suits the lifestyle of Portland's many free-spirited self-employed workers, said 39-year-old Tracey Weidner, an independent private investigator who's been managing Less Distracted for about a year. "It won't replace the corporate mentality of a traditional office, but it fills a need."

Makhmali displayed some of that free-spiritedness when he started holding movie screenings on the warehouse's seventh-floor roof. Safety concerns prompted the building's owner to close down the makeshift theater.

"The working vibe was something that we all created just by being there," said Makhmali, who has since moved to California. "We all encouraged each other to stay focused and keep working."


But Makhmali's Less Distracted experience didn't create a permanent convert to coworking. These days, instead of coworking, he's simply working.

Makhmail said it's "a real job," programming for an education-based Los Angeles software firm ... in the company's office.

CNN's Curt Merrill contributed to this report

Pass the Puck

Summer is coming, and I intend to be on the ice. If you are a parent with a skating kid, a parent who wants his kid to play hockey, a parent who lives in Belmont or Arlington, come join us on the ice this summer. Yes I HAVE ICE, lots of it for hockey kids. Hockey Summer '07 is now Hockey Summer '08. For an hour each week I won't be talking homes and plot lines, but rather zones and blue lines - actually I'll be shouting it. Contact me if you want your kid in (boys AND girls). Oh, by the way...beware, I use the Suzuki method here...parents will be forced to come out onto the ice and make fools of themselves.

Touch base with me for details... 617.470.8085

Active Interests

It seems, from the time I came to New England (I am not native to these grey climes), folks have ever taken an overly active interest in my life. This has not has the best of impacts on me, and, in fact, has caused the loss of many things most dear to me.

So it is that with great trepidation that I responded to the following inquiry:

“Didn’t I see you at the Skating Club of Boston?”

Now seeing me there is no great achievement. I am a member of that old club. I am a regular visitor there, and can be seen there every Monday night throughout the year (yes, summer too) refereeing the Monday Night Learn to Skate Programs for the little ones. I also may be seen there on summer Saturdays coaching the hockey. On other occasions, I am there watching my investment scar the hard ice with cold steel. So I was watching when the inquiry targeting that investment brought out and scotched up my defensive “cockles”.

“ I saw you talking to Hanako. What do you know about her?”

Other than the fact that she is 7th grade age? Other than the fact that she costs me $2,000 A WEEK to keep in her training? Other than the fact that I DO believe she will be the next great figure skater to come out of these United States? Other than the fact that she has an outer “worldiness” decades beyond her pre-teen years, I know nothing about her.

So came the litany of familiar questions: how long has she been skating, howmanyhoursdoessheskate is shehomeschooled and blahblahblah and how did they find her for the HBO thing and the NBC thing and …

To all of it, I am, evasive – protective of my investment -- but I did answer 2 questions. Her name means little flower in some Asian flavor and she plays the violin, and yes, to ramble on, I bought her the violins from 1/8 size up to full.

What does this all have to do with Real Estate? Well, perhaps it is the REAL part. Life goes on for someone – a chance I never had, or perhaps a reflection of things taken away, and I am grateful she is allowing me to come along for the ride even if I must pay the very expensive million dollar ticket.

I Remember You -- Redux

Agents will do just about anything to get a listing, and I am pretty much the same. I will stop, however, at illegal activities, of course. So too, will I stop at owner supplied selling prices. I pick the price.

So it is that a request has come from an prospective lister that meets my criteria of "just about anything".

Here goes:

November 12, 1994. In the dark trunks, Junior Vasquez at 128 pounds. In the whites, with " C K " on the right hip, Mickey "the Lawman" Gutterman at 126 pounds.

It is the third round. At 2:52 I take a cross on the right eye brow that opens up a stream of blood. At 2:58 I take a hit in the left rib cage that makes breathing hard.
Between rounds, my trainer the staunches the blood flow and into the 4th I go. Breathing hurts, and my trainer tells me to circle to my left and lead with left uppercuts. This will keep my right eye "away" from Junior, but it will open my sore rib cage to his body shots. It is hoped my left elbow (in uppercut position) will offer some protection for my ribs.
I circle; he throws a right jab to my left eye and connects, but I uppercut underneath his punch and hit his chin.
He steps back, then comes up for another right jab, but I quickly step right and cross with a right. I hit him on the back of the ear and he falls forward. I go to a neutral corner, and he takes the count to 8.
He comes out and tries to right jab the body again, and this time I right cross him again and hit the cheekbone. He trips on his own foot but he is up before the count starts. He is hopping mad. He is bleeding from inside his mouth. I can tell because he is swallowing something.
He is up, I left cross him and he body shots me in my open rib cage. My breath seizes, but I have one chance to cross him and I hit his cheekbone, again. He goes flat down. I move to the neutral and the count begins, but at 5, I, too melt down, hanging on the rails. The ref is double counting, "Junior 6, Al 1, Junior 7, Al 2, Junior 8..." and I know I will not be getting up. I cannot breath. Junior is trying to move, to roll over and lift up to stop his count. It is a long three seconds. But he cannot do it. His count ends at 10. And my count stopped before 5.

There it is. And now for the one final piece -- real estate is my business. It is the business I will share with you. Why I wore " C K " on my trunks for those 51 fights, is also my business...and will remain my business. Now let's do an open house, shall we?

Valentine's Day Massacre

Agents love today because the activites of this evening will, around the world issue out a newly resized families nine months from now and that will mean new housing needs.

Lawyers, too love this holiday. It seems, and I will allow the reader to find the stats that are easily found, that Velentine's Day, being not just the holiday of love also the holiday of hate.

More fights break out on the behest of this day between otherwise sane and sensual couples. Quite of few of those fights end up in the hands of the happy lawyers, who, like fight promoters, nip and tuck at the edges and pull their pay from the batterings of others.

Come to think of it, agents may well cheer for those combatants, too. 2 homes to broker!

The Dog Days

I know the "Dog Days" have gone: the calendar has flipped and we turn our attention to the harvesting of the crops...stop me -- the closest thing to harvesting I do is picking through the grapes on sale (.99 a pound!!!) at the Star Market.

So what about the Dog Days?. Well, herein, they relate to the dogs on the road. You know, the cuddly ones -- off leash -- that "will never hurt anyone" as their moron owners will attest.

Kids are heading back to school and kids mean walking (not as much as before). Little bodies hop-skip-and-jumping their way to some round faced school marm waiting for her apple (wait a moment, that's "Little House on the Prairie"). The point is, however, kids are small, and to them dogs are big. According to stats found on the site, "dogbitelaw.com", the jaws and claws of "Fido the Friendly Dog" accounted for over 330,000 emergency visits in the most recent year of collected stats. That is second only to baseball/softball.

Each and every one of those 330k blood gushers was caused by a dog that "would not hurt a fly" as owners say so often. Well, I am sorry, but insects not withstanding, I am not interested in a dog's friendship with flies (or fleas for that matter).

When a neighbor allows a dog to stand free, a child is at risk, ans an astute child will be fearful for his safety. And a child fearful for his safety because some boorish owner considers his pooch to be a grand member of society worthy of free roaming is a child in a neighborhood that is diminished and small; made small by small minds of self serving louts.

So let the kids go to school assured in the safety of the streets. Leash and restain your animal. Give children the chance to be better than you. Live in a kennel if you must, but do not ask others to do it with you.

Fat Heads

Not long ago in these parts I put down a little ditty called "10000 Steps". You may find it herein at your convenience. Basically it dealt with why we have become a bunch of butterballs. We'll get back to that.

Many years ago a "muck-a-muck" from some drug company gave a speech to his shareholders. He said, in effect, that the company was not going to get big so long as the company sold drugs to sick people. He said the company would get big if it sold drugs to healthy people. And so began the era of the manufactured disease. Now the normal flows of life are given syndrome and disorder names reduced to initials: ADD, ED, and so forth -- you know them. No longer do we live with ourselves, we live with the drug company's excuse for what we do and have become. My favorite, of course, is the drug for the guy who needs a drug to have sex. In my early days, you needed a drug to make the girl look pretty (booze did the job, too), but you didn't need it to -- shall we say -- uh perform. Now it is Viagra or Cialis replete with the warning of the 4 hour erection. This 4 hour ditty has a name too -- Priapism (who comes up with this stuff???). You are warned to call a doctor if your 4 hours are ... up. I would have thought, in these parts, with a 4 hour job going, one may want to call "the Mayflower Madam" rather than the sawbones who gave you the scrip.

Another aside: One of my dad's friends was talking about Viagra and wondering if you could get it "over the counter". My dad replied, "Maybe, but you'll probably have to take a whole bottle all at once."

Now what does this have to do with anything? Well, readers, it appears researchers in that bastion of good health and enlightened despotism -- Louisiana -- believe they have found a virus that makes people fat. ADENOVIRUS - 36 (AD-36), related to the virus that gives us sniffles, is now responsible for making us large hulking slobs -- and the drug companies are thrilled for now they have yet another excuse to sell us along with the drug. Have a sniffle?...eat a TWINKIE and take a pill.

Virus or no virus, drug or no, the surest way not to be fat is to be fit. Eat to your activity and not beyond it; walk the way our bodies have developed to walk. And, for goodness sake, when you buy your house from me, make sure it has a big lawn. Buy lots of grass seed instead of that pill, and mow that grass yourself.

The drug companies will hate you but your body will say, "AHHHH..."

Town Day

Tomorrow, June 9 a big Town Day in Belmont. All sorts of stuff going on. There's the annual Carnival on the gorunds of the High School (there is an Open House not far away..stop in). There is the town picnic, and, of course, there is the threat of rain -- exciting.

Walk the streets, get some exercise, see the Town of Belmont.

Just follow the lights of the Ferris Wheel (and the noise of the folks). Oh, you'll recognize me...I'll be the guy with the hot dog.

10,000 Steps

Our bodies are essentially the same sacks of matter as the bodies of the folks living in these parts some 10,000 years ago. Now I know someone is going to say we are better than the primordal coot rubbing sticks together for a fire as the better half sits in the mud hut, but really when you think about it, are not we that way now? I mean give it some thought and you will note that our homes are brick, stone, cement, stucco -- whatever: when you ponder it, all that stuff is essentially glorified mud. And as for the fire, well, my neighbor took a good half hour getting the briquettes sizzling so he could grill up the ol' brontoburgers this week end just done.

Where we do DO differ is in our methods of locomotion. 10,000 years ago our humanoid ancestor was more like the traveling salesman -- except he had to travel, find the pig, then kill it before he could bring home the bacon for pre-history's answer to the BLT.

Today there is the Stop and Shop, or the Shaw's or any other emporium you may name. And we don't chase and kill the Impala -- we drive in it.

We no longer are taking our 10,000 steps a day. We are Virtual touring, Virtual office"ing", Virtual everything. Except our food is not Virtual. And we are getting fat. We eat too much.

Think it over and you will see how, in even the last 20 years, we have lost our steps: The media remote everytime we change a channel -- 15 steps lost; the cell in our pocket -- 30 steps lost everytime we do not get up to answer the call; the drive through window -- 100 steps; the Hallmark email greeting to Grandma instead of the letter mailed -- 250 steps to and from the Post Box.

Every 25 steps a person takes will burn 1 Calorie. The above examples measure up to about 16 calories of fat stuck on the ribs. Those 10,000 steps we do not take represent about 400 calories of surplus lobbering down there; turning that belly button from an "outy" into an "inny".

What does this have to do with Real Estate? Well, how about scrapping that Virtual tour and taking a real one? Pick your town and walk the streets, hear the birds, feel the pavement under your feet and see if a tax assessment may be in the offing (no V-tour will show that). Then, if you are in my area, call me and I'll walk over and meet you at the corner of Elm and Godin with a lock box key to anything you want to see.