It's Not Tundra

Ingo Inept, Realtor Ordinaire, told us he was making the jump to a new firm. “This could work out well,” he said. “Remember how many people we had coming through at the start? New listings always do better. Well, because I was taking your listing to a new company, I could get a new MLS [1] and it would be a fresh listing at a new price.” And what price was he thinking? He leaned back and chewed on the earpiece of his glasses [2] . Five hundred and eighty nine thousand dollars. I really had to wonder how you go to a price like that on something as big as a house. My instincts would be to go for round figures, or at least fives. Ingo liked nines ‘cause it gave the impression of a bargain [3] . I didn’t care. If that enough of a drop, I wondered. He continued chewing his glasses. He thought so. Yeah. Like he COULD think. “And if we don’t get anything at that, we’ll drop it again. It’s a volatile market.” Well, no it wasn’t. “Volatile” means explosive and unpredictab

The kids finished school in June, Connor finishing Third Grade and Lauren finishing Fifth. It was a pretty good year. Lauren was finishing elementary in the L.A. school system and would be gong into middle school the next September. We didn’t think we’d be there in September, but we filled out the paperwork anyway, just in case. Being in the magnet program meant that if we hadn’t filled it out, she would have to go to the home school, which was just down the block and we didn’t like that. We didn’t like the kids we saw coming out of that school. Maybe the kids around the corner WERE just kids. Maybe kids are just kids and I’ve read enough to know that kids in the 30’s, 40s and 50s, 60s and so one really weren’t THAT different than kids are today. Perhaps the language was coarser, perhaps not. One has to think that kids who grew up in an agrarian world were better informed on sex and that kids who were a few years away from the draft probably either knew cuss words they’d learned fr

If you’ll recall from our early reading, this house had an interesting history, at least as far as we were concerned. Patricia was TREMENDOUSLY pregnant when we moved in. Her sister sent her some baby stuff packed in Styrofoam peanuts. I was at the studio and she decided to throw the box and the peanuts out [1] . The wind came as she was waddling toward the curb and suddenly we had a lawn covered in Styrofoam peanuts. Patricia started to pick them up when she saw the woman next door come out. She looked at Patricia, then went inside and came out with five little kids to help Patricia pick up the Styrofoam. “You know,” she said to Patricia, “I run a daycare next door…” Honest to God. We moved in pregnant next door to a family run daycare. A good one. Run by a great woman names Maya who became not only one of our best friends, but also the children’s Godmother [2] . But things end and eventually Maya’s landlord decided to stop renting and sell the house as the market was clim

In the six months the house was on the market, there was a little bit of advice, attempts to pick me up, shake me out of my doldrums that I heard a BIT too often... “At least you’re not underwater with your loan,” They were saying. “At least you don’t owe the bank more than you can sell the house for.” Never, EVER tell anyone something designed to make them feel better and begin it with “At least…” “Well, the cancer ate your face, but at least you still have pretty blue eyes.” “Your family was killed in a mountaineering accident, but at least they left you the Corgi breeding business.” “The alligator ate your leg, but at least you can get one of those spiffy spring running legs now. You know, like that guy who jogged with the President?” “At least” doesn’t make it better. Just think about the phrase. “At least”, meaning in the smallest or lowest degree. It’s a positive way of looking at the world, but it can be a pretty stupid one. It’s like giving thanks for a world that c

I was working at the studio at the time and it seemed such a tremendous pain in the ass [1] and unpleasant to do just the MINOR renovation that it was easier to just buy another house. And we thought about it. We even took a little action now and again by doing the math and looking at what was on the market. When we’d moved into the house as a rental, I was a lowly production assistant dreaming of someday not doing my own Xeroxing. When we bought the house, I was a not-so-lowly-but-still-pretty-small-potatoes Senior Production Coordinator [2] , making about fifty percent more. In the next couple of years I was bumped up a couple of times and making about two hundred percent more. And still, my salary was JUST KEEPING PACE with the L.A. housing market. Patricia was getting raises, but hers was pretty much constant. Because I had started at such a low point, I could get bumped up five hundred percent, as I did at the Warner mines, and still just be making a decent living. Patricia