|
I didn't grow up with the concept of Easter as a religious holiday - admittedly, my family didn't attend church very regularly (or at all). Suffice it to say, that come April, the Shepherd clan was far more focused on the Easter egg hunt, the mashmallow peeps, and the chocolate bunnies scattered throughout the garden then we were on an Easter sermon or a morning mass . . . .
1 Comment
Last weekend, the sun was shining, the birds were singing, and the Magnolias were in full bloom. On Sunday, I hosted 533 Boulevard Way - a beautifully renovated classic that opens out to an extraordinary backyard, and I wasn't alone. There were several other fantastic Piedmont properties available for viewing. (Please visit me on Saturday if you haven't yet seen it.)
With longer, warmer days ahead, Spring has finally sprung (Ignore this weekend's forecast for more rain). As is typical for this time of year, we start to see many more houses come to market. Every top-producing Agent I know is running full speed to ride the wave. (Yes, I know it's a mixed metaphor; no need to write.) In Real Estate parlance, this is our own version of "March Madness." "Surf's Up, Dude." Sarah, Jill, Kate, and I are working on a bevy of homes that are headed to the market over the next several months (We're grateful for the business, thank you), and in nearly every case, the Seller has one OVERRIDING concern.
"How much does my house sell for? (Good question.) I wish I knew. I spent the first half of my childhood in a track house, a post WWII development in Sacramento full of cookie-cutter homes and large families teeming with children of all ages. Title Nine hadn't yet been established, so the concept of organized sports for girls didn't exist. Aside from little league for boys, there weren't the choices there are today. Instead, our folks threw us out of the house in the morning with the understanding that we weren't returning until dinnertime.
Congratulations to me; I've moved up to the intermediate class in my Monday night salsa lessons. That doesn't mean; however, that I've stopped attending the beginning class that proceeds it. Having roped in a willing friend to join me (once Cliff decided he was NEVER returning), it wouldn't exactly be polite to leave her dangling on her own. (She may be my best partner.)
|
AuthorJulie Gardner, has been writing The Perspective for 18 years and has published more than 775 humorous but always informative, essays on life and real estate. 
Categories
All
|
RSS Feed