On Tuesday, I received nine offers on my "fixer-upper opportunity" in the Clinton neighborhood of Oakland (Where?)
This vibrant area, just blocks to Lake Merritt off lower Park Avenue has enjoyed a resurgence of energy as homes are being snapped up and renovated in quick succession.
You’d think that with nearly a decade and half of real estate sales under my belt, there’d be few surprises left in this highly-attuned climate where everybody is seemingly an expert, thanks to HGTV. (Yes, I'm addicted.)
Wrong; there’s always something new to learn with each and every transaction.
Last weekend, my husband and I drove to San Francisco to celebrate my birthday at “Flower Piano.” (Put it on next year's calendar; it was loads of fun.) This annual pianos in the park event, now in its fourth year, celebrates the music in all of us. I loved it. (I got the music in me.)
It’s been a week of delays made worse by a bad bout of vertigo I suffered mid-week (If the room is going to spin, tall glasses of champagne should be the cause – that wasn't the case).
Despite everyone’s best intentions, the Lenders are struggling to meet the quick time frames they’ve promised on two of my closings. Typically, it's more documentation that's required by the Underwriter. Sometimes it's a missing signature or two, and once in awhile, it's to trace the source of funds. Whatever the reason, no one likes delays. (In the words of Jerry McGuire: “Show me the money!”)
Last weekend we met our good friends, Julie and Nick, at The Piedmont Theater to see the new documentary, "Mr. Rogers." (I highly recommend.)
The thing is, that before watching this tender-hearted movie, I was never really a Mr. Rogers fan, preferring the high-energy, colorful gang at Sesame Street far more, nor did I steer the mild-mannered, cardigan-wearing Mr. Rogers towards my own kids as they developed their television repertoire.
"How are you feeling this morning?" I asked my sweet, young Buyers who had just lost out on an ambitious offer for a home in the Glenview AFTER receiving a prompt from the listing Agent to bid higher, which had momentarily led us to believe they were in first position. (They were, but not for long.)
"We're totally bummed," came the reply. (Of course you are. It feels like a hangover; a "house hangover" for lack of a better term. We've all been there and it sucks.)
So I'm having a party this weekend. (Have you heard?) If you haven't received a personal invitation, please note the photo to the right and join us. (The more the merrier.)
I'm pleased as punch that my garden was recently awarded "Best Bay Area Garden Installation" by the SFBA NARI folks (that's the San Francisco, Bay Area National Association of Remodeling Industry) which meant there's cause to celebrate and we'd like to share this lovely achievement with all of you.
Last week, a minor miracle occurred in our household when I walked into the bedroom and noticed that my husband had actually closed his closet doors! With more than 28 years of marriage under our belts, that may be a first. I get that such an event is NOT earth shattering to most of you, or even newsworthy, but to me, it was the culmination of a dream, although admittedly, I may need to dream bigger. Still, it gives me hope that the toilet seat may one day yet, find its way to a closed position.
In the world of real estate, a "minor miracle" happens when Buyers get into contract on the first house on which they bid. Spoiler alert: that almost NEVER happens.
This week, I had the distinct privilege of attending small claims court for the first time. (Maybe it wasn't so much a privilege, but an obligation?) My clients' case - like every case that seeks a formal resolution - involved a misunderstanding between two parties who, not surprisingly, had opposing points of views and highly divergent expectations. (That's not good.)
Last week, my Little Library arrived from Amazon in a a GREAT BIG box and on Wednesday, my handyman, Luis, assembled it and put it in the ground for me outside our white, picket fence. Between the Sally Holmes roses that are blooming in abundance, and this newest addition to my home, it's a pretty sweet scene (if I do say so myself).
Julie Gardner, referred to as, "the pulse of Piedmont," has been writing The Piedmont Perspective for 11 years.