A Hot Mess

I can totally relate

Last week Beth swung by and we went over what I will be teaching in our upcoming class. The six-hour class is called "Contract Writing Boot Camp" and it is required by all new AZ real estate pre-licensees to take this before the Department will issue them their license.

Beth asked me what I wanted to cover, giving me carte blanche to do anything I wanted. I think she figured I would take a 10-minute segment here and there. That's sort of what I thought too. However, somehow I managed to commit to the first three hours of instruction.

I am not prepared.

I am freaking out.

I can't sleep.

And this is what I said I wanted. Right?

For the next four days, I am going to work on my presentation. Fortunately, Beth already has a slide show together (that I am modifying because apparently I can't leave well-enough alone). I know I will be ready when the time comes, but right now I am a hot mess.

A Roof Over the Head is Worth Eight Unknowns

My first clients when I started my accidental business two years ago were JC and Carlie. They wanted to rent and quickly found out they had no negotiating power whatsoever. In the end they signed a two year lease for a very adorable three bedroom townhome. They have lived there, treating it as if it was their own. The rent is on time. The landlord didn't squawk when they got a 13 pound dog. The landord also put on a new garage door for them. So, win-win, right?

JC called me yesterday. He just got a notice his rent was going up $55 next month with a new lease, which is the exact amount the property taxes went up this past year. He is livid and has decided he and Carlie need to move ASAP.

And here is why I am the world's worst salesperson.

No. They don't need to move to another rental. They will spend more than $660 (the price of the yearly rental increase) in moving expenses alone. Please couple that with application fees, credit check fees, deposits and whatever else necessary to secure a new house. And by the way, it will be for a smaller home and not nearly as charming as what they have now. Plus, now they have a dog, so they will be competing for homes with people who don't have pets. Besides, they are currently paying market rent at the new rental rate so it isn't like there are super-awesome bargains out there for them to snatch. And if there were, 26 other soon-to-be-homeless folks (who probably don't have pets) will be vying for the exact same house. But what do I know?

Anyway, I set them up on an E-mail drip, letting them see all the grand and available rental homes in the East Valley. I found a whopping 8--which is 7 more than I expected. They were all smaller and in uglier parts of town--not that I can pick their neighborhood for them, but all they need to do is pay attention to see for themselves.

I suspect I won't hear back, with them begrudgingly signing another lease. They were annoyed with me last time for not going to bat for them--they got the house! And I can't imagine they will be terribly excited this time either. But they have a roof over their head and a super-cute place to call home.


You can read their tale, here: https://adventureswithrealestate.blogspot.com/2018/01/jc-master-negotiator.html
and this one too where they ripped my head off:
 https://adventureswithrealestate.blogspot.com/2018/01/the-rental-lottery.html

Bliz Update

Bliz is cancer-free!!!!! 

No additional treatment is needed!

Booyah!

The Christmas Desk

This is what we found at Goodwill. Of note, the small drawers are not
the same kind of wood as the larger drawers or the sides. 

This is what Buckaroo and I transformed it into. There was a long and heated philosophical discussion about why we needed different drawer pulls. 

The boys still don't understand. Polly thanked me for sticking to my guns on this one. 

This is what it looks like in Polly's room. 

Not to shabby. 

Jane's Real Estate Adventure

Last weekend, Jane and Mr. Jane bought a house in another state. They are moving in a few weeks. I am excited for them, but sad for me.

I will miss discussing our children (and her one grandchild on the way), how she is the older and wiser one--by 9 days--and I am the younger and clever one. I will miss discussing our pets and husbands and everyday life. I will miss talking about real estate and some of the strange adventures we took. I will miss her threats to throat punch me when I make a snarky comment once in a while all the time.

I will just miss her.

But one can't be friends for 46+ years and worry that it will be over with a few miles between us. Hopefully my next adventure with her will be a trip to visit some time soon.

Update to December's Adventures

Marty dragged me to thrift stores today to look for potential tables/desks/chairs that may or may not need to be refinished. It is there I discovered his obsession with me refinishing furniture is getting out of hand. Marty also discovered I think most of the furniture in thrift stores is chrome-plated crap. I turned it all down. However, there is one stool that caught my eye. I might go back next week on half-off day and pick it up. Maybe.

Also of note, I declined to move forward with the 2020 Leadership program and gave my notice today.

In other news... there is no other news.

Merry Christmas.

Happy Birthday Bonus Dad.

Peace Out y'all.

Adventures in December

Though I am sorry this sale fell through, I am not sorry to have the time to just cave at home (plus, it wasn't right for my clients).  I am not the best at self-care, and I think listening to my own needs is becoming a greater priority as I get older.  At this point, I am seriously threatening to turn off my phone for two weeks. That is, unless you are someone I like, then I will keep my phone on for you.

______________________

Bliz got word from her doctor, the cancer had not spread to her lymph nodes, but she is refusing to celebrate until she gets word from the oncologist she doesn't need further treatment. As far as I'm concerned, Christmas came for me the day she shared this.

______________________

Buckaroo and I have taken on a monumental project for Polly's Christmas present. We are refinishing a desk. It isn't just a desk, it is a desk with about 10,000 drawers, made of 20,000 kinds of wood. We refinished the top and are painting the sides and drawers (because the top and the drawer wood doesn't match from one drawer to another, so the stain comes out as different colors). The $25 Goodwill desk is becoming a very expensive Goodwill desk, as we didn't really have any supplies to begin with. Of note, Marty had no idea I knew anything about how to refinish furniture. He is now under some crazy and mistaken impression that I should ditch the entire real estate thing and refinish furniture for a living. I don't think he is joking.

______________________

I was nominated for a leadership program at the local realtor association. Interviews are scheduled for early January. If selected, the program comes with a time and money commitment. It isn't terribly expensive, but the money was coming out of my business account, not the family account. This sale not going through means that my business account is a bit light. I am deciding if I want to continue with this process and roll the dice I can make this happen. Or, should I beg off, knowing that the funds aren't really readily available and it wasn't meant to be. I am giving myself until Monday to decide. But I think I am leaning towards begging off. Perhaps skipping this will give me more time for furniture refinishing or self-care. 

The Number 1 Rule in Real Estate

I have a sale that is going South. It might be salvageable, but my clients aren't interested. They have their reasons, and I understand and support them. It isn't my house. It isn't my money. They have every right to make the logical and well-thought out decision they are making. And frankly making it now, before closing, is probably a smaller headache than making it after they move in.

I love these clients. They are some of my favorites of all time. They have bought a couple of homes from me. I want the absolute best for them, even if it isn't the best for me. However, it is a week before Christmas. It is two weeks before 2020. In my head, I spent the commission money on practical things, such as paying my (required) dues so that I have access to the MLS, paying my E&O (malpractice insurance)--both due December 31. I also hypothetically spent it on a new-to-them used car for the kids. And the rest of the hypothetical commission, I put in the bank.

We are financially fine. We will survive. If this is the worst that happens to me this year, my life is blessed--which it is.

Buckaroo, who thinks he wants to get into real estate when he turns 18, has been shadowing me lately. Today he learned the number 1 rule in real estate today: never count on a sale until it closes.

He also learned the number 2 rule in real estate: obey your clients. Actually, that is probably the number 1 rule, but it isn't as tangible. My wonderful clients hired me to work for them. I am to do what they say (within the confines of the law). This is what they want. I re-read the contract to them. I verified what their recourse is. I explained what "breach of contract" means. My conscience is clear.

Incidentally, my awesome clients actually apologized for backing out, telling me they regret I wasn't getting compensated (because it didn't close). It was sweet of them to think of me. But I would never want anyone to spend any amount of money just to make the realtor happy. We agents know the risks. The way to manage the risk is to follow rule number 1.

News

I have my first teaching gig scheduled! Beth is letting me team teach her contract class next month. This is huge!!!


In other news, my broker friend, Kaye, got a new sewing machine. She made this for me as a gift for my first class.

It says, "O' Lord, please fill my mouth with worthwihile stuff and nudge me when I've said enough.  --Speaker's Prayer" 

The GRI Business Plan

My last class for GRI was to write a business plan. I had a format to follow and was to abide by their silly confines. I hated every moment of that dumb class. If I want to increase my sales by this much, I need to make this many calls. Otherwise, according to the constructs of the assignment, I was not going to be an "achiever."

"What if I don't want to increase my sales next year?" I said to Marty. I had been working on the stupid plan for hours and was befuddled as to why I was cranky.

"So make your plan what you want to do instead." He replied.

Well, duh. How obvious was that? And how did I miss something so simple?

It has been said by more than one well-meaning friend that my former Accidental Business broke me. That may be the case, but I am ready to be put back together.

My real buiness plan is somewhat different that the drivel I was asked to put assemble and it fits me much better. What I want to do is transition into other meaningful areas of life. I want to teach more and be home more. I want to connect to the people I love. I want to rid my world of ugliness and dysfunction. I want to write and have actual real hobbies. I want to go to Montana, Missouri, Michigan and Idaho next year. And maybe California to see my brother. I want to read, learn and grow.

When I started looking at this seriously, I realized I don't want to leave real estate. And frankly, if I am teaching, I probably need to stay purposely involved in sales to some level. How involved I want to be is actually something else to explore, consider it a sub-set of my business/life-plan. However, I want to deal with the kinds of clients I want, and not the toxic nitwits like Inga, Landon and Dawn. "What does it say when I would rather work with Dee and her Merry Band of Felons than family 'friends' like Landon and Dawn or repeat clients like Inga?" I asked Marty.

His answer wasn't very polite. But he wasn't wrong. I have been doing this too long to let those bozos break me.

Wining

Jane Owes Me 

"You are going dressed like that?" Jane asked, one eyebrow slightly extended. I looked down, it was my normal Thursday uniform: jeans, sneakers and my favorite sweater over a t-shirt. I mean, Buckaroo, who is the one who sees me most often on Thursday afternoons didn't care, why should Jane? And I conveyed that sentiment to her.

"Well, it is a $1.5 million dollar house..." was her response. Yes, it is true, we were going to an open house. I have been to several in my life. I wasn't buying the house. I didn't have any clients who would be seeing me, and to my knowledge we were going to zip in and out of her fellow agent's open house grand debut, so what's the big deal? But then I looked at Jane, who was uncharacteristically out of her Thursday uniform and was even wearing make-up and decided I could slap on some deodorant, change my top and add lip gloss on one end an my ankle-books on the other if that would make her happy.

It wasn't an actual open house, by the way. It was a Tupperware-type party wine-tasting event thrown by some agent at Mrs. Hufflepuff's (Jane's) brokerage who was using her million and a half dollar listing as the backdrop. Invited were fellow agents and friends of Mrs. H. and Jane who all knew each other. I knew several of them from absorption into their world, so I was able to hold my own. It was exceptionally nice because I was next to one of Mrs. H's fellow owners who claimed (when asked) her favorite wine is Budweiser. So, me saying my favorite is Blue Moon was in line with the humor. I also mentioned I had a delightfully fruity Merlot recently (which I shared with Bliz's mom, while watching the World Series in Wilcox AZ). Everyone oohhed and ahhhed over my comment in a cringy, pretentious way. I highly doubt they could tell the difference between a fruity Merlot and a box of Costco red.

As with any event where Mrs. Hufflepuff attends, I was slightly concerned. You see Mrs. Hufflepuff draws her self-worth from talking about others. I purposely don't share my life with her because I don't need perfect strangers finding out my business. Unfortunately, Jane discovered Mrs. H's gossip habit the hard way. So, I was careful how many sips I took because I may have been in friendly company, but I wasn't in a room of friends.

Anyway back to the Tupperware-type party wine tasting hell (which Jane had totally neglected to mention was the reason she wanted me to go), there was the wine hostess who had us taste six wines, all paired with certain cheeses and chocolates. Each wine came with a pedigree and a long story about the farmers who toiled endlessly in the fields abut to the Andes, or Pyrenees, or next to the Rhine. We were educated on all sorts of wine  facts, which were interesting. We were to swish, smell, sip and savor each wine and rate them. At the end, there was an order form where we could order a case of our favorite bottles for the low, low price of something worthy of holding this Tupperware-type wine-tasting party in a million and a half dollar abode. Allegedly, a portion of the sales would be given to a charity of some sort. However, I didn't buy any cases.

I had the most corks (right answers)
which gives me bragging rights. 

There was also a trivia contest, and I won because I am a good guesser and I know world history. Pro-tip: wine has been around before grapes were commercially planted in France. I won a wine stopper. I will use that next time I open a bottle of Blue Moon.

The house, by the way, was nice for a Scottsdale property. The yard was lovely. The flooring pretty. I haven't run comparables, but given the zip code, it is probably in line with what it is being offered for. If the same home was in my neighborhood, it would go for significantly less. And I only mention it, because it had the same number of rooms and size as my home.

The open house made the agent look good in the eyes of the owner (who may or may not have known about the Tupperware-type party wine tasting). She was able to tell the owner she had fifteen people come through--which isn't a lie. And though I was totally annoyed with Jane--and make no mistake, revenge will be mine--I know the reason she misled me. There is no way I would have considered going in the first place if I knew I had to spend an afternoon at this hen party. And no doubt she didn't want to go by herself.

Post Bliz Report

No real update on Bliz, other than surgery was shorter than expected and according to lots of local sources, her surgeon was exceptional. Mr. Bliz sent me text messages updates. Bliz's Mama sent me the same messages. I passed them along to the four folks Bliz asked me to contact on her behalf.

She is up and walking but feels like she did two million situps. She is being released tomorrow. The pathology results won't be in a for a  #^&%*! week.

Bliz

I didn't ask Bliz if I could post this, but she put it on Facebook so I am assuming I can throw it out there to my three readers.

Bliz has colon cancer. Today she is having surgery. While I feel totally helpless, I know it is nothing compared to the complete and utter befuddlement she is dealing with.

Please if you are the praying type, say a good word for her. If you are the positive vibes type, please use those powers too.

Thanks.

Graduate, Realtor Institute

I am now a GRI! Woot!

Bad MLS Pictures

Once again, I question agents who can't take simple precautions if they insist on taking their own photos for the MLS. But for the most part, I totally recommend agents hire a photographer. And if the agent refuses to do right by their client pay for professional photos, then at least, have the decency to take the picture of the space in the best light. And let's be fair, not every photo taken must make it into the MLS. 

Here's an easy one: TURN OFF THE TELEVISION

Or perhaps not let the potential buyer see how small the room could be. 

Or that there is no landscaping. Love the shadow by the way. 

Everyone together: MOVE THE BUCKET!

Filters are not always the best answer. 

And here is why filters aren't always the best answer. It doesn't change the scenery. It just makes it seem like the buyer might possibly have ingested too many mushrooms prior to looking at house pictures. (for the record, it isn't the mushrooms, it is the photo). 

Incidentally, this is the same house as above, sans the filter. 

Inga's floor looked eeirly similar to this floor. I did two things: 1) I ordered her to get a few area rugs (which she removed prior to the home inspection--no misrepresentation there).

2) I didn't put pictures of the floor in MLS.

A little paint might make the room feel a wee less... creepy? 

Clearly this homeowner painted. Clearly this agent couldn't move the ladder. 

The last several photos are from a home less than a mile from me. The MLS remarks say there could, possibly be a "strong cat smell." Also, every agent and client is required to sign a hold harmless agreement prior to entering the property. Marty grew up in a hoarding household. It bothers him to no end. I understand why. It is an illness. It is terrible, with the hoarder trapped by their own need for security. I am not making light of this. 

What I would like to point out is that 1) the agent didn't need to take the listing. After all, this is not an easy property to sell given the circumstances and 2) these photos did not need to go on MLS. I only picked out four of the 40+ photos that look pretty much just like this. I am not sure it does the seller a service to show the home this way.

The agent could have taken an exterior shot and called it a day.

The Big-Girl Designated Broker Voice

I have these clients who are buying a home. For reasons too long to go into for this patch of cyber space, they used a specific lender requested by the seller. I don't know this company. My clients don't know this company. But it was in my clients' best interest to work with this lender.

Last week, there were approximately 3 zillion back and forth e-mails with the loan officer. I know this because I was copied on all of them. Each e-mail from my normally reasonable and pleasant clients were more terse than the last, with the loan officer back-pedaling and making assurances that frankly, if she had done her job the first time, wouldn't have needed to be made. 

I jumped in at one point and asked if the process was going as promised, because there are some hard deadlines that cannot be messed with. I was given the same veiled, "I don't see a problem," from the loan officer. However, the back and forth continued and it became clear my folks were on their last nerve. 

Finally, I called the loan officer's boss and left a voice mail. I used my Big-Girl Designated Broker Voice on the voice mail, bandying around words such as, "disappointment," and "uncomfortable" and "accountability." I ended my message to her with an, "I look forward to hearing from you and finding out what solutions you have so my clients can determine whether or not to move forward with your company," which was only a half-bluff, because I was already making phone calls to some of the rock star loan officers I know and seeing if they would match the terms and conditions my clients were promised by this company. 

In truth, I hate confrontation. Frankly, I am really bad at it too. I totally rock passive-aggressive, which unfortunately this situation did not call for. Having to call someone's boss and get things straightened out is really out of my comfort zone. However, sometimes it is necessary. I don't care if my clients are spending $1.00 or $10,000,00.00 it is their money and it is my job to make sure they are protected. And sometimes that means confrontation--even if it gives me nightmares for weeks afterwards. 

The Loan Officer's Boss, by the way, did call me back. She acknowledged there was some missteps and explained to me what was going on. That is all well and good. I speak the language. I understand what got everyone to the point we are in now. My clients don't understand and it doesn't change the fact they are pissed off and they aren't pissed off kind of people. 

"What do you plan to do to make this a smooth transaction moving forward?" I asked the boss. Because, why use my Big-Girl Designated Broker Voice if I am not going to challenge her to right the issue? To her credit, she took charge and fixed the situation. She called my clients, apologized and said there shouldn't be more problems moving forward. 

Sometimes all people want is an apology to make things better. An, "I'm sorry," can save the relationship when nothing else can at times. There is nothing the loan officer boss could do to fix the past, but I think she put the future in the right direction. Would this have happened if I hadn't called her? I don't know. But I would like to think maybe my Big-Girl Designated Broker Voice had something to do with it. 

Myth Vs Reality

The Burrito Was Gone
By the Second Break. 

So I was asked to take a class on prelicensing by Beth, the real estate school's owner and essentially my boss. The six hour class was held at the Arizona Department of Real Estate. And I have to tell you, I was stoked! Not only was this the first class I ever took at the Department, but teaching real estate has been on my bucket list and now, not only can I teach but after this class, I would be able to teach the unknowing public how to be rock star real estate professionals. So, this class was like winning the instructor lottery!

Now then, for the last 16+ years, when I have taken a 6 hour class for real estate, it comes with lunch, or a menu where I can pre-purchase lunch. The students all dress in jeans or something casual, while the instructor dresses up. Materials are generally provided and we have an idea what we are in for.

So, here I was, going down to the ARIZONA DEPARTMENT OF REAL ESTATE and I was in full-nerd mode. I dressed up, because after all, I was an instructor and this was instructor training. Because it is required to be on time for these classes, I left twenty minutes earlier than I probably needed to. It was raining. So I rummaged through until I found the only existing umbrella in Mesa, AZ. I also packed a protein bar--just in case lunch was lobster. And then, I drove in rush hour, in the rain, on my merry way for a delightful day of instructor preliscensing joy!

I arrived early enough, but found out my car was not welcome anywhere close--did I mention it was raining? I ended up muddling my way through downtown Phoenix, bladder full, looking for somewhere I didn't have to walk too far. I am not making this up when I say Dee and her Merry Band of Felons live directly three blocks North of where I was. I thought about parking at her house, and perhaps one of her Felons could escort me through the scary neighborhood, but I didn't want to be late. After all, THIS WAS INSTRUCTOR TRAINING AT THE ARIZONA DEPARTMENT OF REAL ESTATE!

28 Pages and 6 Hours of This

After the medal detector (which went off and I got a "go through, you look safe,") and a bathroom, I found my class. The seven other folks were dressed in jeans and were playing on their phones. Lance, the class monitor said, "Good morning. If you need the bathrooms they are out the door. We will only take two 10 minute breaks. For lunch, there's a vending machine downstairs. And then we will leave a little bit after 2."

Instructor training consisted of sitting through a video of a bunch of folks being trained last year. Six hours of this. The person running the camera was a mouth breather and it sounded like six hours of training with an obscene phone call as an audio underlayment. Somewhere in the video the audience had a quasi-lively debate of whether the Dodgers or the Red Sox would win the 2018 World Series. They were obviously having a better time than those of us yesterday.  There was no new material introduced. It was "When you teach prelicenseing, make sure to touch on these points." And there were--and I am not making this up--28 pages of "points." And yes, four people tag-teamed the reading of the 28 pages of points to cover when teaching prelicensing.

Our second 10 minute break turned out to be the Real Estate Commissioner dropping into the conference room for a quick hello, that lasted about 25 minutes. It was informative, and one doesn't excuse themselves for the potty or for the last burrito in the vending machine when Madame Real Estate Commissioner comes in to chat. As soon as she left, the video started up again and I opted to deal with the consequences of me being out of my seat as I ran out of the room to answer nature's call. Lance, however, took one look at my face and decided he could let this one minor transgression go.

We ended at 3, with me now in possession of a fancy certificate saying I can teach prelisensing. As soon as I was out the door, I hangrily texted Bonus Dad and told him I was on my way! We had a nice dinner at Pei Wei in Central Phoenix, which made me forget all about the craziness of the past few hours.

Double Shucks

The most significant event at this week's Community Outreach meeting was that they voted not to have a December meeting.

Life just keeps getting better and better.

Well, Shucks

Ms. Rabbit

Today is the Community Outreach Meeting. Unfortunately, I managed to get a last minute doctor's appointment for the exact time as the meeting. What are the odds I could call the doctor yesterday and insist they find an opening for exactly 9 a.m. today?

Fate!

Fate I tell you!

I am sure I can find a creative way to miss next month's meeting too, so I am unofficially done with this bunch of yahoos. If this means I can't teach at the Association in the future, I will just have to figure it out. But as my favorite coffee/tea-date friend said on Sunday, "Life is too short for toxicity."* She has always been right and there is no reason to doubt her wisdom now.

For as excited as I was to make a difference with this committee, it has been a total letdown. I think the mission is wonderful. On the plus side, I got a lot of fodder for stories and life experiences I can use.

One last note, I mentioned a few months ago they had a grant they had to use for the common good. I had thrown out there perhaps using it to shade a few playgrounds. However, the woman in the meeting who looked like Jessica Rabbit (Butch never looked at her face the entire time, but he was smiling!) said that some random intersection was ugly and they could use the grant money for a few art pieces to make it beautiful. Butch was totally on board with that, and without a vote, the suggestion passed.

I missed last month's meeting and took a moment to read the minutes. Apparently last month Ms. Rabbit came up with an even better idea. She suggested they find a way to shade a playground and what do you know!? The committee voted and passed the idea unanimously! Awesome!



*I may be paraphrasing, but you get the point.

Coded

After 18 months, I finally took my last classroom GRI class today. I have an independent study I still have to do (I am given 14 days to complete it, so I haven't started just yet). Today's class was 6 hours of the Realtor Code of Ethics, which ironically, was similar material to last week's Grievance Committee training. Except in this class, my Realtor pal, Sally, sat next to me and we passed notes all day. That made it more fun. However, there is only so much Code of Ethics one can absorb in a month. It isn't like the material changed from five days ago. 

I am Coded out. 

Awe!!!! 

When I arrived home, my family greeted me with a fancy hat and a card. I could probably finagle a dinner out of it too, but I think I will wait until my independent study is completed. 

There are lots of doodles in today's book. 

By the way, GRI stands for Graduate, of the Realtor Institute. It is a hard-core and intensive program. We have five years to complete the program. I finished the classroom portion in 18 months. It isn't because I am an over-achiever. I just wanted to get this off my plate as soon as I could. 

Incidentally, less than 5 percent of all real estate agents get the GRI designation. It is pretty special. I don't have it yet, but I am super close. 

The Room of Requirement

It was a bittersweet kind of day. I finally cleaned out the room of requirement. Before it was the room of requirement (aka "junk room") it was the toy room. Before that it was the homeschool room. And long before that, it was the future bedroom for for another child or two down the road before I found out that just wasn't going to be a possibility.

The room of requirement held everything that didn't seem to have another place to live. Everything from the CD bookcase to the vacuum resided in there. Plus, all of the Legos, K'Nex, costumes, DVDs, extra electronic equipment and a a boat load of art supplies. No really, think over-the-ocean freighter ship, kind of boat load. Essentially, it is the room everything went to when we had a quick company-is-coming clean. Over the years, the room turned into a hoarder's best dream.

When we were looking to move to Florida, I knew I would have to tackle that room and I wasn't looking forward to it. After all, we couldn't exactly tell a potential buyer, "Look! The chin-up bar and the 16 white boards come with the home with a full price offer." (Or could we??) As it turned out, it was a huge relief when Marty turned down the job, just so I didn't have to deal with cleaning out this room.

Today, I mustered up the courage, grabbed a few boxes and Polly and I cleaned out the room. Ollie's dog bed was donated. The broken music stand was thrown away. The Nerf darts were collected and given back to Buckaroo, who still has Nerf wars with various friends. And all the art supplies were placed on the kitchen table, all the chairs, floor and counters while Polly and I argued lively discussed how many sketch pads does she really need.

"I need as many sketch pads as you need jigsaw puzzles," was her answer. Touche'.

Incidentally, I donated a few jig saw puzzles.

We kept the Legos and K'Nex. They are now neatly placed in the closet, waiting for my nephew and a few of the other kids who sometimes come over.

A good portion of the art supplies, construction paper, markers, crayons, paint brushes, paint, colored pencils, glue sticks, fabric paint, more construction paper, party decorations, beads, costumes and more (much, much more) were put into a giant box and brought across the street to the new neighbors who have four children under the age of six. It made me smile to think these kiddos could get some leverage out of these things that gave my children so much joy.

No Thank You

While the mandatory training was going on at the association, at the same time the Community Outreach Committee was holding a shred-a-thon, where folks could bring valuable but old documents to the assocation and they were shredded. Because I had this schedule conflict, I did not sign up to help with the shred-a-thon.

However, at one of the breaks I walked out to check on how things were going and say hello. One of the committee members approached me. I smiled and said hello. And what do you know? He--a member from the SAME committee I am on!--thrusted a basket in front of me and asked me for a donation for the critical needs fund.

When I blankly looked at him with a confused, "Wait! You don't recognize me? We are on the SAME committee," look, he mistook it as I didn't know what the critical needs fund was, so he started explaining. Then, ANOTHER member of this SAME committee joined in, because she though OUR committee member was tanking with his pitch and I clearly didn't understand.

I just replied with a, "no thank you," and walked back in.

Mandatory Training

Because I volunteer on the Grievance Committee, I am required to take a professional standards training course once a year. I took one in February. The Association offered the 2020 training course yesterday, so I was there. If you look at a calendar and are confused, don't worry, it isn't you. Next year's course was offered in 2019--as was the 2019 course. Incidentally, it was taught by some nationally recognized instructor who flew in from New Jersey. She told the same jokes and gave the same examples last February too.

Mock Grand Inquisitor Squad at our Working Lunch

Because I am just a peon, I didn't have to sit through two days of this training (booyah!). Kaye did because she has some higher ranking than peon. As much as I like the Grievance Committee and what we do, there is a lot of motivation never to hold a spot above Peon just so I can miss the second day of this once a year-ish training.

What I found the most interesting was the folks in the class. Apparently only Type-A's volunteer for the grievance/Grand Inquisitor positions. Most of us are in positions of leadership in our brokerages and with 16+ years under my belt, I was one of the newer agents. I'm not exaggerating about the Type-A thing either, we, the audience, had a bit of a mutiny and took a vote for a 10 minute lunch so that we could get out early.

The class was informative (the first time) and mandatory (both times). It was a nice refresher of what is required filing an ethics complaint, starting with the procedural process of filing a grievance through the Grand Inquisitor Squad hearing and resolution. In fact, we had a mock Grand Inquisitor Squad tribunal with Mr. Barney Rubble claiming his agent broke the code of ethics requirements. Kaye was one of the Inquisitor Squad panel members. And because this was the afternoon after a long day, most of the folks up there weren't exactly able to stay on the script, which made things a little more lively. However, I am told by one of the members of the actual Squad, the complainants and respondents can make the actual hearing pretty lively, so it was good practice.

Squee!

I am kind of giddy about this. Ok, I am totally giddy about this.

Beth just submitted my paperwork to the Department of Real Estate for me to be approved to teach my first class: Contract Writing! Booyah!

Freedom

Squee!

I didn't expect to feel wonderful about firing Landon and Dawn. But I do. There's a lot of freedom that comes from choosing. I chose to let them go and move on to better.

No regrets.

Turns Out My Dignity is Worth An Awful Lot

So my realtor pal, Sally called me. She had a dilima and asked my opinion.

Once we got through her story, she then asked how I was doing. At the time, I was reviewing Dawn and Landon's comps, wondering if they would even believe me if I showed them how much their home was worth. There are other properties nearby that sold for much more, but they are much, much nicer. I knew when I broke the news, they wouldn't belive me and probably fire me or keep me on and let the chips fall where they may. But no matter, they wouldn't believe me and they would act like asses about it. I told Sally as much.

The more I talked about it, the more I realized there was no good ending if I went forward with these yahoos. We aren't dependent upon my income. I don't need them as my clients. Plus, how much is my dignity worth?

As soon as I got off the phone, I wrote the following letter.

Dear Landon and Dawn,

It has become increasingly clear that our goals are not mutual. In order to best be of service, I am respectfully stepping back as your agent so that you can find someone who can better serve your needs. Per the Real Estate Agency and Election Agreement you signed, all that you have told me is confidential for perpetuity, but the rest of my duties are hereby terminated.

As you have entrusted me with your keys, I have removed them and my lockbox from your property and am sending them back to you so that you can effectively determine your best course of action.

Thank you for allowing me this opportunity. 

Chosing Clients

I am currently working on one sale and discerning whether or not to take Dawn and Landon's listing. The one I am working on is strange, but fun. There are no guarantees and nothing has moved in a direction I expected. However, the people are great. That makes a difference.

My other current clients, Dawn and Landon, aren't that great to work with. They are frustrated. They had tenants scoot out in the middle of the night and are left, 3000 miles from their home, with costly issues. They are scared. They are uncertain. And mostly they are extremely unpleasant. 

It is reasonable to be distrusting, especially given their poor decisions in the past have gotten them to where they are now. It is not reasonable to have your only credible (I am not "credible") sources be the Internet and reality television shows. Raw data doesn't count--especially when it comes from any source I give Dawn. I don't even mind being countered at every turn, as much as I mind the nasty vitriol that comes with her disagreeing with my position.

Jane was with me last week when I had Dawn on speaker phone. Jane's eyebrows shot up at the way this woman acted. Agree with me. Don't agree with me. I don't care. But hell! Don't be a certifiable snot about it! 

Originally, when we first talked last summer, Dawn said, "I have to tell you, the last few experiences I have had with a realtor have been horrible." At that point, the little voice in my head said, "run." I haven't run (yet) because this client has ties to my extended family members. Dawn will be punitive if I fire her. It will get political within my family. I am aware. Nobody will agree with me (after all, I am just being pissy and I NEVER have a legitimate complaint because it is my family.).  

Part of me would like to keep this client because if I could get her under control, it would be a nice chunk of change to end off the year. However, I question whether I can really keep an uber-snide seller with interpersonal relationship gaps "under control." How much is my dignity worth? 

Last week I texted Dawn and asked for her address. What I didn't tell her was the reason I wanted her address is that if I choose to fire her, I am going to take my vendor box off her house and mail back her keys. I will make a decision soon as to what I want to do. 

Rethinking This One

I have a client who is making me crazy. Every time she asks for advice, I provide it. And then she argues that I am wrong. Plus, she doesn't quit until I give in. I don't think she means to be arguing, but yea, she is. Example:

Client: Do think I should remove the shelves in the office.

Me: Yes, it makes the room look small. Plus, you have termites in this room. And you need to replace the flooring in there anyway, so they will have to be moved out for this to be done. Additionally, the painter will need to remove them when the walls are painted.

Client: I like the shelves. We put them in. They are useful. Plus, the handyman said they look good.

Me: If you want to keep them there, that's fine. It is your call.

Client: I don't want to remove them. Do you think I should?

This bit of swirling dialog went on too long until I finally just agreed, yep, keep the termite infested shelves in there and pay a carpet installer to move them out of the way when they replace the flooring and have the painter paint around them.

When this looks like garbage, who will she blame? Plus, she isn't really all that nice about it. Her counter comments come with phrases such as, "I would think someone in YOUR position would know better than to take shelves out..." Other such barbs are often and never masked by her. Yep, she's a bitch.

She asks me for advice on everything related to her home. However, every consideration from me is wrong, because her experts are fix and flip shows and her cousin's best friend's brother-in-law. What's worse, is I am seeing every decision she can make as a bad one. Today, while at her house (she is 3,000 miles away) I commented that the ceiling fans are old and rickety. She said they are "industrial grade and we put them in when we bought the house 20 years ago," and therefore I don't know what I am talking about.

To be fair, I am on the verge of firing her. Because I am not feeling well, I have opted to wait until next week to make this determination. I need more space between this latest bit of lunacy and when I talk to her again. But I happen to know not all clients are created equal. And if she is this much work in the honeymoon phase, I doubt it will get better.

Recuperating

What's that line? No battle plan outlives the enemy?

This week I have had four (FOUR!) classes to take and one grievance committee meeting on my plate. There is also coffee with a friend, and another friend. And let's not forget a few other mom-type duties.

But nope. The allergies I had been touting for a week were really not allergies but some sort of yuckiness running through my system. And finally I sat down long enough and my body took over. I haven't moved since. Everything since Saturday has been cancelled. I haven't even read the grievance complaints, but I will--even if I won't be at the meeting.

I am still optimistic about the Thursday, Friday and Saturday classes. I already cancelled tomorrow's class. I am not sure Thursday and Friday class are refundable anyway. Saturday's class is with my new employer, so I need to show up. Plus, I have a coffee date rescheduled for this weekend. It is a must.

Experience tells me I am on the mend. Polly is taking over some of the taxi duties. Nobody is starving. The dog and cat are fighting over who get to sleep on top of me. They aren't convinced the answer should be "neither."  I have read a book and watched a crap-ton of Hallmark movies. Plus, I have slept. Glorious sleep.

I am hoping only one more day of this nonsense. I am way too bored to do this long term.

Teacher Prep

I can't stress enough how done I am with October. It has been one heck of a crazy month. Fortunately, my new real estate school boss has also had a crazy month and did not notice I haven't been around to talk about me teaching. That's a good thing, because up until this week, I had done nothing with my new certification. Plus, I didn't think starting a relationship with my new employer giving her a month of my baggage would be a sign of beginning on the right foot. So, I took the ultra-mature route and ignored the entire situation, hoping she didn't call.

This week, life, blessedly calmed down and I had a chance to kind of figure out what I want to teach. I think I want to start by teaching agency. It is a subject near and dear to my heart, and I truly feel if more agents paid attention to this particular topic, we would be raising the bar for our industry.

Tuesday, I sat in on an agency class. The teacher was boring and actually got the information partially wrong. Not wanting to be that student, I just took my notes and started working on my own outline, instead of raising my hand and correcting her. Ok, maybe I did that once or twice. But I swear I was tactful.

I was so relieved I was taking another agency class on Wednesday, to wash that horrid Tuesday class out of my brain. That is, until I sat down and had the worst class I have ever had Wednesday afternoon.

In the middle of class, after she said a few appalling snippets, I whipped out my phone and looked up the instructor. She had been an agent for less than two years. I didn't even know you could get a real estate instructor's license with less than two year's experience! The class was so bad, I was tempted to walk out and kiss the $20 I spent good-bye, but in the end, I stayed. I learned a lot about how not to teach a class. Trust me, I took notes.

Incidentally, I didn't have to raise my hand and tactfully correct Wednesday's teacher. There were about seven other people in the class doing it for me.

Marty and I are taking an agency class next week taught by my friend Kaye. I know it will be a good class. The reason I am taking so many is to get material together, because it appears I need to create my own curriculum.

The class I am creating for is how to set client expectations with a client consultation. Essentially, what the public needs to know to hire an agent. And more to the point, how an agent needs to act so the client's expectations are properly set.

 As a real estate professional, our jobs isn't really about showing pretty homes. And if the general public understood that, perhaps our industry would have a better reputation. There is a lot of work that goes on behind the scenes. I have had clients say to me I didn't earn my commission. Well, that means I did my job. They didn't know what was going when they weren't looking. Nor did they know how much drama they may have caused.

But the truth is, agents aren't respected. It is our own doing. I have actually lost clients because I wanted to sit down and have a consultation with them first. All they wanted to do was gain access to a home and decide if it was right for them. It didn't matter that they wanted to spend a third of a million and truly needed to know what their rights and legal obligations were. Other agents were willing to just waltz in and do it the clients' way, no matter what the legal ramifications were.

Pardon me for saying so, but this must stop. As an industry, if we want to be taken seriously, agents need to act the part. So, that's the class I am working on.

Appraisal Class

A week ago last Monday (October 21), I woke up with a jolt. I realized had totally forgotten to take my appraisal test scheduled on October 14. In my defense, the month of October has been six levels of crazy. In fact, it has been so crazy that even with the test on my calendar I still forgot to show up and did not think twice about it for another week.

Anyway, I hadn't studied for my final or thought twice about it. So, once I realized it was still on my plate, I did spend part of two days cramming for the darn thing, hoping I could pull off a passing grade. Finally last Wednesday, sick of the entire ordeal and frustrated by getting the covenants of a joint tenancy deed wrong every time that practice question came up, I finally just dusted my knees and went over to the college ready to accept whatever my fate may be.

By the way, I passed the test just fine. Then again, there were no questions about the differences between joint tenancy and tenants in common deeds.

I am not sure I want to earn an appraisal license through an online computer course. It isn't cheaper or more expensive than going to the Arizona School of Real Estate, but it has the advantage of being able to do this at my leisure. However, I miss having discussions and discourse about course topics. That might be more important to me if I choose to pursue this further. It is something I will have to think about.

The Bad Landlord

I am sorry, the smell-o-vision
is currently turned off.

This story hurts my insides.

Landon and Dawn were moving away. They had Bess house sit while they looked for a place to live in another state. Cindy, a mutual friend of Landon, Dawn and Bess suddenly became homeless through circumstances I don't exactly understand. So, what happened?

Well--and I am not making this up--Bess (the house sitter, not the homeowner) said to Cindy "Why don't you just move into Landon and Dawn's house? They are moving out of state and were thinking about renting it out anyway. They won't mind."

And then handed Cindy the keys to Landon and Dawn's home.

Bess didn't ask permission.

There was no lease.

There was no security deposit.

There was no nothing. And whilst you think Landon and Dawn should be 100 percent furious with their house sitter, they weren't. THEY DIDN'T MIND.  Why? Because Cindy needed a house.

Let's fast forward though the years of this train wreck, shall we.

I am not showing you the bathrooms.
You are welcome.

Cindy has lived in this house with her adult children. Rent is below market and has only been a mere suggestion, with Cindy having excuse after excuse about why rent would be late, if at all. Landon and Dawn have done their altruistic duty and kept the place habitable, by putting in a brand new AC unit, taking care of minor maintenance issues and paying the mortgage and taxes on the place so Cindy and her adult children had a place to live.

You think Cindy would be the least bit grateful, right? For the record, that question was rhetorical.

Last week Cindy and her adult children moved out. Landon and Dawn figured this out when the neighbor called and said there were two sizable moving trucks outside. Last week (after Dawn sent an unanswered text and e-mail to Cindy and her adult children saying this was happening) I entered the property to find a humongous mess.

Cindy et. al., left a good amount of their worldly possessions and a crap-ton of trash behind, including plates of food on the counter, and lots of perishable food in the garage refrigerator. Given the size of the moving trucks, it struck me they might have been able to squeeze in a few more items, but I guess not.

Though the place is a mess, fortunately, the house appears to be in reasonable condition. However, I had bad news for Landon and Dawn, they had to inventory and keep Cindy's possessions for a period of time before they can clean out the place and turn around and rent or sell it.

This past week, Dawn has repeatedly called me asking me for advice. Every time I give her my answer as a former landlord and as a real estate broker, she counters me, citing sources from fix and flip TV shows to what her third cousin's father-in-law thinks. I am the dumbest person alive in her eyes because I never agree with the third cousin's father-in-law. I don't watch the fix and flip shows, but I thought everyone knew they weren't reality, but instead sponsored content.

From what I can see, both Landon and Dawn don't really want my advice or expertise. I have made suggestions and given the names of folks that can help them. But so far, this is being met with, "we have this handled." That's awesome. I didn't really want to handle it for them anyway. I am not even sure I want them as clients when they go to sell it. However, I just hope Bess isn't their general contractor.

The Good Landlord

Bebe was renting a cute little townhome. A year and a half ago, she asked her landlord if she could let Don live there while she worked out of state. It would only be for a few months, and "he's a really nice guy."

The landlord (who did not ask my opinion at the time) said, "sure, no problem."

Now then, for those of you who don't have any Earthly idea of what happens next, please feel free to sign up for my 10 Day "How to Landlord" crash course.

Let's fast forward. Last week, I finally managed to convince the landlord to do an inspection. It wasn't that I thought there was anything wrong, but this situation has been going on for more than a "few months." I tagged along.

It turns out Don is perfectly settled. All of Don's worldly possessions are nestled comfortably into the this cute little townhome. All of his furniture, clothes, and dishes are there. And just to make sure nothing is going anywhere, there is a RING doorbell and interior security cameras candidly set up throughout the home. The entire place screams "man cave!"

In fact, there is no sign of Bebe anywhere. This isn't necessarily a concern, except our dear landlord has a binding contract with Bebe and only Bebe. If Don decides to not pay the rent, run a meth lab or play out one of the countless other imaginable scenarios that is going through my head right now, Bebe is on the hook.

Or, what if Don doesn't pay? How does the landlord take action to evict? There is no lease with Don and Bebe is MIA.

Perhaps Don is a serial killer with multiple warrants and has a long history of eviction? We don't know because my landlord doesn't know anything about Don because he didn't fill out an application to begin with

Are you seeing the problem here?

Fortunately, my landlord friend does see how this can get bad. She is vulnerable. Though things have been going very well and each party has been comfortable, there is no contract in place to protect this landlord. Plus, rent has been the same for five years and market rent is about $500 more than Bebe is contracted to pay, so a rental increase needs to happen too.

Anyway, the landlord sent a note to Bebe, saying "It is obvious you have abandoned the property," and gave a 30 day termination notice. She also sent a note to Don saying, "If you want a lease, you need to fill out a rental application, and have a background screening and credit check. You will also need to provide a security deposit. And by the way, we are raising your rent $200." Though this didn't sit well, he hasn't balked yet. The owner gave him five days to figure out if he was staying and complying or leaving. I haven't heard yet which direction he is going.

But no matter what, the landlord needed to do this. She wasn't protected.

Priorities

I took matters into my own hands. We now have a car. It even met Marty Sunshine's seal of approval.

Now that I can go placees, I can set up a coffee date with one of my favorite people.

And He Calls This "Fun"

How I shop for just about everything: Log into Amazon, check price. If it is within my tolerance, I click on buy. If not, I add it to the grocery list (even if it isn't a grocery item) and then when I go out once a week--or if Marty is somewhere he can pick it up--we purchase it. This goes for everything from nail clippers to shoes.

How Marty Sunshine shops for a car when the family is in desperate and dire need of transportation: look at every single Web site in the Phoenix metro area that might have a Toy-ru-wagen for sale. Gawk at every single car/SUV/wagon online. Compare minute features between each vehicle to excruciating detail. Dither over every subtle nuance. Does the station wagon have a flugulhorn sound system? Does the sedan have a virtual assistant? If the SUV gets a flat tire, will it change itself?

1. If I am at home, show me endless pictures of cars, calling out the wonderfulness of each and every vehicle (By the way, "I don't want a car with 140,000 miles on it," turns out to be the wrong answer.).

2. If I am at home and not super-cranky from driving all over hell's half acre for my job, drag me to where to the latest car is located to bother the sales people and then compare the car we intended to see with as many other vehicles as Marty can convince me to look at in a 90 minute period of time before I melt.

Or...

3. Send me (who has the working vehicle and is usually somewhere in the Phoenix metro area) to location of Marty's latest flame to test drive and see whether or not I "like" it.

Find some minor flaw in vehicle.

Raise price limit/search area/or other obscure requirement I didn't know was a requirement.

Repeat.

We are going on three weeks.

Deja Vu

My writing weekend was severely hindered by life. In fact, as I write this post, that's about all the writing that happened this weekend.

It wasn't the only reason my writing party was put on hold but it was one of the less ducky reasons. Some clients of mine live in Maryland. They have a home in Gilbert. They just heard from the neighbors, that the tenant had two sizable moving trucks in front of their home. The clients hadn't gotten rent and these renters hadn't returned any calls in weeks.

My clients called me in sheer panic. Was everyone moving or was the family splitting up? What kind of condition was the property in? And holy cow! What should my clients do??? My folks were ready to buy plane tickets as we spoke.

I have lived this. In fact, it brought back a flood of memories. Even though I really, really REALLY wanted to sit down and flesh out why my first chapter is 83,000 words and 157 single spaced pages (true story) these folks needed their nerves calmed first.

Marty and I made the drive to South Gilbert and checked things out. Yep. There in front was two moving trucks. The garage was open and it looked like a minor disaster--however, nothing was packed. They may be moving, but given the level of disorganization I saw from casing the house twice, it would be a while.

Everything my clients could do if they were here they could do from over there. They just need boots on the ground. In this case, yes, I can view the home (once vacant) and get them in touch with the random folks who will make the place either rent-ready or sell-ready. They can order the water, power, and the pool guy to from afar. I mean, if they want to spend $500 on last minute plane fare they can do that too. But, why? Besides, as of this time, nobody knows if the tenants are moving out or just reorganizing.

"What if they take the hot water heater?" my client asked.

I've lived that. It sucks. But the true answer is THERE IS ABSOLUTELY NOTHING YOU CAN DO IF THEY TAKE THE HOT WATER HEATER UNTIL AFTER THEY TAKE IT.

"What if they trash the place?"

Lived that too. It is cleanable. And fixable. But yea, not fun.

All these emotions and several more came up yesterday. It put me in a foul mood as I relived this nightmare all over again.

However, as much as I would rather have been cutting my story back, I totally understood how these clients felt. There is a level of helplessness that comes with managing property under these circumstances. I lived it and it is horrible. And I am sorry these folks lived it too. Hopefully their tenants leave and take all their baggage with them.

Gone Writing

Once in a while, I lop off a significant chunk of time (like three days) and just plan on writing. I clear my calendar and tell my family weeks in advance, "I will be writing. Please take care of whatever it is yourself." My writing party scheduled for October was set for after my last closing.

There is a saying, if you want to hear God laugh, tell him your plans. Well, He's having a fit of giggles right about now. My writing party is now more like writing breakout sessions. I'm showing homes, taking a family member to the doctor, and a few other numerous tasks that now take prescedent over my free time. I am ok with that. They are necessary. My silly little hobby isn't.

That said, I am going to enjoy every moment of my silly little hobby. It breathes life into me and feeds my soul. It is my recharge time.

The Break is Over

My real estate break lasted 17 minutes. I now have three buyers.

I am grateful and blessed.

But I need a break.

And I need a car.

Golly, Gosh, Darn

So we are down a car. This is rather unfortunate, because it requires a LOT of driving on my part to get people to places they need to go. Seriously, I put more than 350 miles on the car in 24 hours.

Alternatively, it means I have no transportation. Like right now. Right now I am sitting at home with a cat and a dog, while Buck is being picked up from school and summarily sentenced to attend Polly's music lesson, because Polly picked him up. Otherwise, Buck and I would both be at Polly's music lesson. However, I took the first shift and took Buck to school, Polly to the doctor, went to the bank and then came home and handed the keys off to Polly, who will then drop her brother off at home and go to school.

I need another car.

But I didn't need a car earlier this week! Why?? Well, shucks. As it turned out, because I had no transportation, I couldn't make the community outreach meeting. And what a bummer that turned out to be. I didn't get to hear snarky unprofessional comments from the leadership. I didn't watch in horror as those who wish to accomplish something, anything, were shut down for creative fresh ideas. I didn't get to mentally roll my eyes as this committee met for the sheer sake of existence.

And I don't regret it at all.

She's Not Living the Dream

So one of my realtor/investor/homeschool mom friends who now lives in another state contacted me. She wants to buy a single family home in the Valley for under $200,000. And could I please send her everything I could find? I promised her it wouldn't be much. But just like all optomisitc buyers everywhere, she didn't believe me.

I kind of went back and forth with her about this, with each passing comment countered in a true realtor/investor/homeschool mom way. I love this wonderful friend. Even if she is unrealistic. Here is kind of how the conversation went.

"I think your price might be slighly low. I just sold a 2 bedroom condo in Tempe for almost $200,000" I told her.

"I don't want a condo," was her sensible reply, but completely missed the point. THERE ISN'T ANYTHING FOR SALE.

"I believe you could find something in the $190,000 range in downtown Phoenix, like the 85007/85008 zip codes."

"I don't want downtown Phoenix. Too much crime." She said. Yes, true but even criminals need a place to live--though I didn't tell her that. I happen to agree. That's not where I would want to invest either. Nor do I want to show homes over there if I don't have to.

Personally, I doubt this will happen for her right now. At least here in the Phoenix area. That's too bad, because I would love to help her. She is a repeat client. She gives me referral business, now that she no longer lives here. She is a great friend and makes me smile. But no, she probably isn't buying a rental home in the Valley any time soon.

Closed

My home sale in Peoria closed today.

May I just say, I couldn't have been happier my listing closed! I didn't write about it too much because the sale made me physically ill. I mean it: physically. It even took me a while to figure out the sale was making me sick. There are reasons--but I don't feel like going into them. In fact, I would like to just forget. It wasn't a hard sale. Everyone was pleasant. It was just an intense sale.

And now it is behind me.

A couple of weeks ago, I told Marty I needed a break after this house closed. However, I also need a car, and needing breaks and needing cars don't go together. But I think unless something jumps in my lap, I am taking a couple of weeks off.

National Buckaroo Day

Seventeen years ago, Buckaroo made his grand entrance. I have been laughing ever since. Polly is the soul who taught me about love. Buckaroo is the one who taught me to laugh and not take the world so seriously. My dear son has a quick wit and a fun sense of humor. Additionally, he could not have been a better compliment to his sister, who desperately needed a sibling. They are the best of friends.

Buck has a strong sense of propriety. His moral compass does not waiver. He doesn't like liars, theives and those who purposely do harm. I am not surprised that he feels called to serve others, but as a mother, I wish he would pick something safer to do with his life. But then again, I can't think of anyone I would rather have as a first responder.

Incidentally, Buckaroo got his name from the Rodney Atkins song, "Watching You," which he sang over and over when he was 4. He even named his beloved toy zebra Buckaroo, which has never been the least bit confusing whatsoever to have two Buckaroos in the same home.

Nope.

Never.

Here are a few Buckaroo-isms.

• "Now then, what I'm about to tell you, I would prefer you chose to think of it only as amusing..."
• When he was four-ish, he ran past me with his hands behind his back and up the stairs calling, "I don't have anything behind my back, Mommy!" (He had a jar of peanut butter).
• Recently there was a very loud crash upstairs that shook the house. I heard some cursing and then he called down to me, "It was the cat! And could you not come upstairs for about an hour please?"
• One time, while in the office, he walked by holding the drill. He looked at me, grabbed the door knob and stated, "Just go ahead and lock this door until I'm done."
• "Mom, right now you are kookoo for Cocoa Puffs. I will take care of everything."
• "Mom, I am so grateful to you, I could even write you a thank you note."
• "Girls only want one thing: boys and gossip. Plus they can't hold an intellectual conversation."
• "All Neil Diamond songs are about some girl who rocked his world."
• "What's the difference between a train wreck and a hot mess?"
• And my personal favorite: "16 year old girls are not ready to date."
• The runner up, "Redheads are nothing but trouble. Except Aunt Tori. She's cool."