In the process of finding a new template!

!Dry, Boring Post Warning!

Oh, the beautiful world of real estate sales.

The Monday morning staff meeting started off fairly quietly. The Boss was out of the office taking a class, and one of the agents was off getting a certification (real estate agents sure like those important looking letters after their names), effectively leaving the meeting with just four attendees; myself, Office Manager, and two agents. We discussed a new listing, bickered good-naturedly over who was holding a house open for the agent tour tomorrow, talked about our newest overhaul to one of the company websites....

Then we arrived at our list of closed and pending sales.

It's no mystery to anyone in the country that the real estate market has plummeted, a fact that is driven home every time I look at statistics, and especially so when I glanced at the office's closed/pending sales report this morning. There's not much on there. It's a low number. Scary low. Lower than I've ever seen. Granted, here in my small corner of Western Washington we're not as bad off as some parts of the country, but it's still not a pretty picture.

There are a few things I wanted to touch on here concerning the real estate market in my town. The first is Washington's new(ish) "Distressed Home" sales law. This law, enacted somewhere around June of this year, created new duties for real estate agents and brokers who were selling "distressed" homes; that is, homes that are in danger of/ in the process of foreclosure. An agent/broker who agreed to help someone sell a "distressed" home is now a Distressed Home Consultant, which entails additional duties and much greater liabilities, including the potential for incurring much greater actual damages in the event of a violation of the law. From my take on things, this was an extremely important step that needed to be taken. Foreclosures have skyrocketed as homeowners default on mortgages, leaving them vulnerable to foreclosure rescue scams. Unfortunately the extreme increase of liability associated with taking on the responsibilities of a "DHC" caused many larger real estate offices to refuse to allow their agents to accept a distressed listing, leaving homeowners little option but to have their homes repossessed, something I'm sure the banks weren't all that thrilled by. They don't want the houses back.

The swell of foreclosures was met by an equal tide of cheap new construction homes, leaving resale houses to linger on the market.

Interestingly enough, home prices have not fallen all that much in my county (in comparison to other areas). Of course, the trade off is that there are fewer and fewer sales. Home prices are being forced to adjust until affordability is again on par with income, and from my personal experience, sellers are unwilling to acknowledge the fact that prices are dropping. They insist that the price of their home is exactly where it should be. The value of a home is a touchy subject for homeowners. It can be deeply personal, especially if the homeowner has done a lot of work to the property; put in a new deck, perfected the landscaping, added that bonus room.... they are often unable to recognize the fact that prices are dropping around them as their home spends more and more time on the market, with newer, lower priced listings leaving them behind, trailing in the dust. All listings are engaged in two separate battles - a pricing war and a beauty contest. Homes have to win both to even attract a showing, much less a reasonable offer. Top real estate agents in the country are now encouraging brokers to be extremely selective with the listings they accept - taking a listing is extremely draining financially with all the marketing and time necessary to attract a buyer, and if the seller isn't motivated and understanding of the current market, it is frequently, to be perfectly honest, not worth a broker/agent's time to attempt to sell it.

As more houses maintain an unrealistic asking price and don't sell, additional houses appear on the market, swelling the inventory.

Of course in conjunction with the rising home inventory, it has become more and more difficult to obtain a loan. We had a meeting last week with a lender from Countrywide that we frequently do business with. Countrywide has recently been purchased by Bank of America, and the lender expressed considerable relief. "Hey, at least Bank of America still has money," she told us. She explained a lot about mortgages that were still available though it is more difficult to qualify.

I'll admit, I'm not as knowledgeable as I probably should be. I don't know all that much about loans, though I do think it's probably a good thing that companies aren't handing out mortgages left and right to people who can't afford them. What I know about the statistics and seller reactions are what's staring me in the face every time I come to work. I could do more research, but I don't. Why? Honestly, I'm kind of freaked out. It's not a real fun time to be working in real estate. Agents are having their own homes foreclosed on, and dropping out of the business. An agent working in my office, two years older than I am, told me today that he thought he was going to have to find a second job. He's brilliant at what he does, and has done exceedingly well in the last couple of years, only to tank in this difficult market like so many other agents.

So....

Most of this morning's meeting was taken up by discussing the market. One of the agents asked my office manager (my boss's husband) and asked if he had ever seen a market this bad.

Office manager shook his head. "Honestly? No."

I know this has been a pretty disjointed ramble, but hey, it's Monday. Give me a break. ^_^

(By the way, I had to write that note backwards for Photobooth. My handwriting really isn't that bad, promise.)

Oh, chimney fires....

I was driving to work this morning thinking about what my life had been like a couple of years ago and saw a fire truck go by. No lights, no sirens, just meandering along. I found myself laughing.

I believe it was New Years of 2007*. I had a friend over crashing at my place, and I had fallen asleep on my living room sofa, as I did quite frequently at that time. My friend had started a fire in my wood burning stove, and everything was all cozy, cheerful, and warm. I remember waking up briefly in the middle of the night and seeing the room completely choked with smoke. I was vaguely alarmed for a minute until I saw my friend busily doing something at the fireplace. Oh, he's got it handled, I thought, and immediately fell asleep again.

The next morning everything seemed to be fine. My friend took off to run to the store, and I started picking up a bit - my place was a pit, as usual. I was in the dining room when I caught a whiff of smoke. I shot a glance at the stove. It sat there, innocuous as ever, doing its best to look completely innocent. I wasn't fooled. I marched over and pulled open the door.

There was no fire, not even any residual burning embers, but the inside of the stove was filled with smoke. I slammed the door closed and glared at it for a long moment. Don't you dare, I thought at the stove. This is unacceptable. Reluctantly I pulled the door open. Smoke flowed out into the room, and I slammed it closed again. I grabbed some shoes and walked outside to look up at the chimney. There was definitely smoke. Not just a little bit of smoke. There was billowing smoke.

I did some creative swearing, Fire Fear** suddenly raging full force. I knew it had to be a chimney fire, and I was furious. I knew the chimney had been cleaned and inspected less than a year before - there was no reason for anything to be catching fire up there. It was a good thing there were no visible flames, or I may have had a panic attack and fainted before I was able to call anyone.

And of course the first person I called was my friend. "You need to get back here right now!" I shrieked into the phone when he picked up. "This is your fault!"

"What?!" he asked, confused and alarmed.

"Just get back here!" I snapped, voice still shrill. I hung up the phone and waited outside until his car pulled into my driveway a couple minutes later. He got out of his car, and I stabbed a pointed finger towards the chimney.

"What?!" he asked again.

"What do you mean, WHAT?" I cried. "LOOK! There's smoke! There shouldn't be smoke! Something's on fire, and you're calling the fire department, because this is your fault! You're the one who wanted a fire last night!"

He cringed, knowing about my fire fear, and wisely didn't argue with me, even though in retrospect I was possibly overreacting. "Okay, okay."

I followed him inside and watched as he checked inside the stove, then called 9-1-1. "This isn't an emergency," he said calmly to the operator, "but we've got a bit of a chimney fire going here..."

I had calmed down a bit now that the situation was being handled, and suddenly was struck by a deep horror. Firemen. Were coming here. To my house. And it was a mess. I exploded into action, attacking the pile of stuff on the dining room table.

My friend watched me, bewildered. "What are you doing?"

I gave him in incredulous look. "My house is a mess!"

He raised his eyebrows. "Yeah.... it's always a mess."

"I know. But there are strangers that are going to be walking around in here! Firemen, for God's sake! Come on, help me clean!"

My long suffering friend helped me clean as much as we could in the few minutes it took the fire department to arrive.

And oh yes, they made quite an entrance.

I live on a tiny, quiet little dead end street in a duplex. So when the fire trucks came roaring into the neighborhood, lights on and sirens going full force, it drew some spectators. Including my new neighbors living in the other side of the duplex whom I hadn't had a chance to meet properly. After assuring them that no, our duplex wasn't going to burn to the ground, and hi by the way, I'm Becca, I went inside to watch the firemen.

One of them was hot. And by hot I mean really hot. And after a moment, I realized I recognized him. He looked at me and gave me one of those funny little smiles that said he recognized me but couldn't quite place who I was. I had met him once and instantly lusted after him - he had dated a crazy former co worker for a couple of weeks. He was responsible. He owned a beautiful house. He was gorgeous. And did I mention that he was a fire fighter? Uh, sexy?! And now he was here. In my house. My messy looks-like-a-hurricane--and-a-tornado-had-its-way-in-here house. Putting out a chimney fire. Looking at me with my tangled hair, sloppy sweat pants, and ratty t-shirt.

I listened to one of the older men tell me I need to have the chimney cleaned and inspected again before using the wood stove, waited until they had all filed out of my house and driven away, then did a face plant into my dining room table.

"No more fires in the wood stove," I told my friend. "Not ever."



*I could definitely be wrong about this... I have a terrible memory for past dates. But I'm pretty sure it was '07... except maybe it was '06.... damnit.

** I am so paranoid about fire it's not even funny. Before I go to bed I wander around and make sure everything electronic that emits heat is unplugged. I run my hands over the stove burners to make sure they're off because I don't trust the knobs. I sleep with a fire extinguisher next to my bed. No, I'm not kidding.

I have come to realize that I need to win the lottery.

People ask me, what would you do with all that money?

I'll tell you.

I would go on a Free People shopping spree.

And winning the lottery is exactly what you'd need to have a Free People shopping spree. Because that super cute square neck tunic cami? $98. Big, cozy, bright orange fuzzy sweater? $118. Beautiful-edgy-and-perfect-for-work blazer? $188. True Religion jeans? $228.

It's ridiculous how much people (myself included) are willing to spend on clothes.

.......

..........

.............

I actually had a lot more I was planning to say about this, but then I started looking more at the Free People site. OH MY GOD. I need that and I need that and that would look great with that.....

Excuse me. I have to go buy a lottery ticket.

Oh, LoLCats, my guilty pleasure...





more animals

It was exciting. It was intense. It was well written. And except for the one atrocious actress stepping in to fill Katie Cassidy's role, it was everything I had hoped for.

Yes, I watched Supernatural's season premiere last night.

And just in case anyone was worried, Dean Winchester (a.k.a. Jensen Ackles) is still the most beautiful man alive.

Exhibit A:

Exhibit B:

Okay, now we can move on (unless you want me to find and post more pictures of Dean? No? Damn).

I had re-watched seasons one, two, and three in preparation for the fourth season (meaning I've watched every single episode two or three times now... wow, that's sad) and the season premiere definitely didn't disappoint.

Except for one thing.

WHY WHY WHY did they choose to replace Katie Cassidy, who was a very decent actress, with What's-Her-Name-Never-Mind-Who-Cares-Please-Go-Back-To-Acting-School?

I mean seriously, this woman opens her mouth and her voice is so irritating that it instantly makes me cringe. Which isn't her fault. But the fact that her lines are wooden and her expression robotic is.

She might as well just been blatantly holding the script out in front of her during the few (thank goodness) scenes she was present for. It probably would have had about the same effect.

As much as it pains me to admit it, I guess no television show, not even Supernatural, can be perfect one hundred percent of the time.

Moving on from heinous actresses, I think it's wonderful how the character development, which has been deep, consistent, and believable through all three seasons, appears to be on a great track with the fourth season.

I don't want to spoil anything, but the premiere episode left me beyond excited. I have a feeling that this season is going to go in a really good direction. You know, as long as they quickly get rid of/replace the drama school dropout.

I know what I'll be doing every Thursday night. ^_^

I was glancing at my spam folder today to before I cleared it (and... you know... to make sure Blizzard hadn't tried to sent me a beta key for Wrath of the Lich King) when I stumbled across this pleasant and uplifting subject line:

"Dumb and poor? Here's a simple way to make MONEY!"

I'm in!

Thank you, spam mail, you're once again proving that you can be a useful source of self esteem boosts and clever get rich quick schemes!

Ah, another vastly productive extended weekend.

I love going to Bumbershoot.

It has a strange name, but Seattle's music and arts festival that spans three days over Labor Day weekend every year is an absolute blast. I generally only go one day out of the three, because to be honest, I can only handle one day of wandering around a jam-packed festival ground for five to eight hours. Bubble of personal space? Non existent.

I always go to Bumbershoot with the express intention of seeing two or three bands, then spend the rest of my time wandering around and stumbling across new music that I never would have discovered otherwise. This year I went specifically to see The Offspring and Flobots. And my great random find for 2008?

Cheb i Sabbah & 1002 Nights

From Bumbershoot's writeup:

"Known as a DJ whose talent is mixing Arabic, Asian and African sounds to rock a party, Cheb i Sabbah will be performing with 1002 Nights, his troupe of dancers and instrumentalists, and Riffat Sultana, a singer who comes from a rich lineage of Indian and Pakistani musical talent."

My group of friends and I were slowly making our way towards the Flatstock rock concert poster exhibit when we passed the Fisher Green stage and had to stop. The bizarre mix of techno-y dance-y type beats with traditional middle eastern sounding music was absolutely arresting. They had already amassed a huge crowd of happily dancing people which we promptly joined (though SOME OF US were too 'tired' to dance... I would prefer not to name names.... but it was NILS). The dancer on stage was extremely talented and a blast to watch... I have no idea what exactly she was doing, but it looked vaguely belly-danceish. I couldn't see very well.

And that was the only musical act I stumbled across that I thought to myself I NEED TO LOOK THEM UP LATER.

The vendor areas were chock full of awesome hippie goods. Rainbow clothing, duct tape wallets, jewelry, masks made out of silverware, airbrush tattoos, art of every kind, more clothing... you name it, it was probably there. My personal favorite were the handmade journals... soft leather covers filled with recycled cotton paper... totally "tree free", as I was told by the vendor. There was a particularly stunning huge sketch book that I would have killed for.... and I would have had to with a price tag of $200. Oh, if only I was less broke... I definitely made sure I picked up one of their business cards, and I'll be saving that website.

And that was Bumbershoot in a nutshell. Lots of fun. Walking back to the ferry, though, was less than fun. Note to self - make sure I have cash for the monorail next time.

My calves still hurt...

Pat and I are standing on my front porch. Our lunch breaks are over and we're about to head to our cars to go back to work. The beautiful sunny weather we were enjoying a week ago is gone, bullied and shoved out by the typical Washington clouds. It starts to rain.

Pat: I'm getting rained on!

Me: Well... come here then. *I grab his arm and haul him under the eaves where I'm standing.* There, see? No more rain.

Pat: You saved me!

Me: I know. It was a monumental task, but someone had to do it.

Pat: *stares at me suspiciously* I think you're some kind of witch.

Me: Yes, you're right. I am. I'm also a ninja, remember? I'm a ninja witch.

Pat: *suddenly struggling to keep a straight face* You're a WINJA.

Me: ...........

Pat: Or a NINJITCH!

Me: The correct term is Winja, Pat. Not Ninjitch. Now get it right before I cast a curse on you. Because trust me, a Winja is the last person you want to piss off.


Would YOU piss off a Winja?

I didn't think so.

It could almost have been just another party. A gathering of about ten or so friends sharing some good food and good conversation with nearly that many children running around, shrieking with laughter

Except that it wasn't.

A boy, maybe eight or nine, came running up to my friend Josh. "I'm leaving!" he said.

Josh grinned at him. "Oh yeah? Where?"

"To join the army!"

It's tricky for me to read Josh these days, but it seemed to me that his smile became a little more empty as he chuckled. "Oh, okay."

The boy stood in front of Josh for a moment longer, quiet. Then he took a deep breath. "Don't die, okay?" he burst out.

"I'm not going to die," Josh promised him. The boy nodded hurriedly and took off running. Josh looked at me, smiling ruefully. "I made it through once," he said. "I can make it again."

Saturday was Josh's going away party. Josh, who was supposed to get out of the military this year, has been stop-lossed and is being sent for a second tour of duty in Iraq.

Yeah, it could almost have been just another party. Except that it seemed every few minutes, someone was asking Josh, "so when do you leave again?" Except that the men were asking him about the last time he was there, and what he expected from this time around. Except that a small boy came up to him asked him not to die.

I've known Josh since I was four years old, and while there have been long gaps during the years where we've fallen out of contact, I still feel fortunate to be a part of his life. Josh is one of the best men I've ever known. I'll be thinking about him every day while he's in Iraq, and I'll be thinking about his wife and two small children.

Regardless of how any of us feel about this conflict, it's still an everyday reality for far too many men and women in the service and their families and friends. And all we can do is cross our fingers and hope like hell that they come home safe.

Be safe, and come home.

Nils had a blog an eternity ago (2006) which he started to chronicle his family's trek through Europe. He made exactly three posts, then abandoned the project. Now Nils is back with a slick new layout and a great sense of humor, entertaining with posts that include....

"...I do not understand my subconscious. Most of the people who I talk to about dreams, like friends and stuff, are all, "I had this dream last night where I cleaned my kitchen, but everything was upside down. Crazy."

So then I'm like, "Wow, that is weird. I had a dream last night where I was in a State Park that was also a shooting range and there was a Poodle-Eating Puma terrorizing our campsite. The end of the dream was me tackling the the Puma as it tried to eat our friends second poodle, the first having been the first victim of it's spree."

So go visit Nils at Musician's Choice.

And because I love the URL...

http://penguinboxers.blogspot.com/

We must make him post more!

It's been a while since I've posted, which would be because I've done absolutely nothing exciting. Certainly after my harrowing experience at Fort Worden, little things like my flowers blooming and Stella the kitty actually seeming to regress back to kittenhood and lunge at my ankles during inconvenient times just kind of seems to pale in comparison.

But!


I have made some very positive changes in my lifestyle. Changes that I've been saying I need to make for a very long time now, and lacked the drive to actually implement.

Healthy eating and a hard workout routine.

Exciting? Well, it might not sound like it, but for me it is. I feel ten times better than I have in a long time. And I'm really excited about the personal trainer-created weight room routine that my friend and I have been doing - it makes every other weight training routine I've ever done look like a kid's game of make believe. So entire body weight training three times a week, yoga twice a week, and cardio five to six times a week plus actually eating right will eventually transform me into THIS!

Okay, so maybe I won't be as bad ass as She Hulk.

Maybe. Maybe I will transform into She Hulk. You never know.

.................

But... you know.... without the green skin and hair and all.