Residential Realtor Realities

Eighteen months ago I called my mortgage holder to inquire about a refinance. At that time the mortgage consultant gave me the estimated value of my home. How they did this, I’m not exactly certain. However, at that time, I was excited about the number. So was the mortgage consultant who went to great lengths to try to encourage me to pull some cash out when I refinanced. I passed, not changing a thing.

My mortgage holder is Countrywide Mortgage, by the way. At that time, Countrywide was one of the largest mortgage lenders in the country. Not so much any more. Countrywide fell apart in the midst of the housing woes and mortgage backed securities crisis. Amid rumors of bankruptcy, they were finally acquired by Bank of America.

Judging from how easy it was to get an inflated home value, and how eager their mortgage consultants were to loan you up at 100% of the value of your home, it’s not hard to see why things went bad, and by extension, why the country has a significant problem today.

We met with a realtor over the weekend. Based on homes currently on the market, and the sale prices of homes that have sold within the last 12 months, the realtor recommended a selling price at almost 20% lower than Countrywide valued the home eighteen months ago. The amount she recommended selling the home for was equal to an official appraisal we had done back in 2002 when we added a garage on to the home.

Countrywide clearly overvalued the home to a figure that had no basis in common sense. The market conditions today mean that any appreciation in value since 2002 has been summarily wiped out. Somewhere between the two numbers lies the truth.

It’s tough out there. Really, really tough.

Dad's Day

Blueberry pie and a ball game for Father's Day.  Ahhhh, gentle readers.  It's a good day.

For all you dads out there, may you find an icy drink, a hot mama, a shady hammock, bright smiles from the little ones, a full slate of digital, high-def programming on cable, and an empty chore bucket.    

Peace.

Deaf is most Def yo, Know what I mean?

My seven year old, with his youthful, high pitched, fast paced speech pattern, and my 69 year old father, who would have trouble hearing a B-52 rumble through his living room, had a phone conversation today.  Some selected highlights:

E: "I'm going to the Royals game today"

Grandpa: "Nope, I'm staying home."

E: "I drove the Ranger last night at Chris' house."

Grandpa: "I thought they were playing the Cardinals?"

E: "Poppy, have you caught a catfish before?"

Grandpa: "Oh, I'll probably go to Wal-Mart today and just piddle around the house."

Both parties, not having a clue what each other was saying, somehow managed to have an enjoyable conversation and be perfectly understood by one another.

Hum...

Lord, when I'm speaking with my wife, my boss, anyone from the phone company, and the dude at Subway with the twelve piercings and tattoo of the word "pain" on the inside of his lip, let me have a young heart and old ears. 

Cat-Tastrophy

http://www.cnn.com/2009/CRIME/06/17/florida.cat.killings/index.html

OK, so this kid kills cats, 19 of them to be exact. Clearly he has issues.

Here’s the thing that stuck out from the article: “He could face a maximum of 158 years in state prison if convicted on all counts, Chavez said.”

158 years? What?

Listen, before you tabby loving cat people get your fur all in a bunch, I’m not indicating that his crimes aren't severe and worthy of punishment.

Did you see his mug shot? You can tell this kid needs some quality time at a facility where he can eat soft foods, lay on a couch, and talk about how mommy and daddy didn’t love him enough. He needs to spend a few months in a cell with a cross-eyed, 6’7”, 280 pound bruiser with “Here Kitty Kitty” tattooed on his bald head. He needs access to top shelf pharmaceuticals.

My guess is 158 years in the slammer is a bit excessive. Confirmed serial killers, rapists, and all around dregs of society don’t end up with terms of 158 years. I could smear my body with 15 pounds of coke, brandish three fully-auto machine guns, consort with known escapees from Guantanamo Bay, have the audacity to question President Obama’s healthcare plan, all the while dancing naked at the policeman’s ball and receive less time in jail than that.

Perspective. That’s all I’m asking for gentle readers.

Dinner's on Me

Gentle readers, I forgot to tell you. I received my first royalties check in the mail. Not a statement, mind you, but an actual check. So I took my family out to celebrate. I was able to pay for my entrée, well, most of it anyway.

Means we’ve got a song out there somewhere, being used by someone, for some thing. That’s kind of a neat. Hope they’re digging it as much as we dug the process of getting it out there.

Good times people. Good times.

Duuuude...Is that my skull?

We received a letter over 70 days ago telling us about mandatory drug screens. In the letter was a specific date range, a two week window, when the tests would occur.

Three people lost jobs today. Two of them used some sort of diluting agent, or masking agent, on the original test. When asked if they would be willing to re-test today, both declined. One young man had a wife and two kids, one with special needs.

I’ve stated this before: I make so many mistakes on a weekly basis, that I skipped writing the book and went straight to buying the company. But…but gentle readers, come on.

I’m not judging. However, I’m continually amazed at the number of people who would choose pot over pot roast.

An One More to Grow On

16th anniversary today.

According to the lists, this year it's either obsidian or silver holloware.

So...I'm supposed to get her a black volcanic rock or a silver gravy boat.

Yes. That will engender great affection and tender moments to be sure.