Short sales, by def, are shady.
There are so many different levels of "for sale" that short sale is like a blanket of "don't bother" when looking for a home. Investors make your move, families beware!
One month into our journey, we fell head over heeeels for a beach house. And by head over heels I mean like that piece of pudding pie you only wanted to take one bite of but just keep eating bite after bite.. I'd like to take a Housewives move and smother it in ketchup, deeming it inedible. The beach house essentially ended up drenched in a thick layer of ketchup; so close to being finished bite by bite, until the party was inevitably ruined for all.
Now, when you hear beach house I know what you're thinking. Hawaii. Venice Beach. Even Baker Beach. No, you're mistaken, silly! Remember? Short sale. By beach house I mean house on a corner of a busy street leading to, not a beach, but a cliff above the ocean where hang gliders take the plunge for that gust of, no not only salty air, but putrid fruity air, due to the garbage dump included behind the back yard. San Francisco beaches are, by def, miserable. However, the view of the ocean is definitely the only amazing part of being by the beach.
Which is essentially how this love story began. House needed tons of work, the yard.. eh... buttttt climb up to the top of the hilly landscape and perch on the (imaginary) couple's swing to overlook the beautiful ocean. Make sure you bring every blanket in the house, but still enjoy.
I mean the hardwood floors were painted black. The bedrooms were the size of that sardine can the Rescuers (that underrated Disney movie with the chubby mouse attempting to woo a posh and very English mouse) rode in (and the Seagul takes them everywhere while they can cozy up in their little can). Ah sorry good movie.
Point is, we saw potential. And made an offer right away. For above the asking price! Our delusional, sappy, crazy asses drove up there almost every night for a couple of weeks to look around, show parents, show the kids, map our routes to and from work and day care, play in the adjacent parks, EVERYTHING! We essentially almost started camping there.
Low and behold the realtor never presented our offer. Apparently the bank had turned down previous low-balled offers before the sale price was lowered. So the selling agent thought it would be best to re-present EXPIRED offers before entertaining the idea of ours (aka inside job ding ding). Our offer was still highest in the corral of bids, so we waited it out.
And still never heard.
And still haven't heard. But recently checked and saw that the beach house was no longer on the market. Basically the banks missed out biggggg time on cashing in on our higher offer, or we like to think so.
And so we saddled our defeated asses back into that speedy BMW to see what other run down places we could offer our lifes' savings for. Yippee!!!
Tuesday, September 4, 2012
Friday, August 10, 2012
Faaaaaaaame... puts you there where things are hollowww
A break from the short sale saga to direct tribute to a contemplative great.
Why is David Bowie so amazing, and so not all at the same time? You seriously have to be in the exact frame of mind to enjoy one of his songs.. and when you find yourself there you can't get enough! Savor this time until you've had enough I say; you never know when you will find the pocket of David Bowie love in your brain again.
With Outside Lands just in my backyard I find myself sitting at this computer wishing that the Great Neil Young will come and swoop me up (as if I would run away!). He would kidnap me and sit me right in the middle of the grass field in GG Park with all of the accoutrements of hippi concert living and take me out of this place of dark misery brought on by yet another week of having our hopes up and another weekend of not moving. Has anyone in history ever wanted to MOVE this much before?
And I digress, this is a break from the short sale.. yet it's like being a mom of twins and getting a pedicure at the same time. So wonderfully blissful, yet the time is indulgently spent with torturous thoughts over how many diapers or shoes can be bought with the amount of money spent on this beautiful blip in time.. someone is rubbing your feet, you're even holding that a coveted warm Starbucks in hand, and right as you drift off into trashy magazine reading heaven you are awaked with a lighting jolt of "WAIT did I rinse out the sippy cups before I filled them this morning!!!!!!!". Such as this, no daydream about Neil Young, or Dave Grohl for that matter, can be had without reflecting on the piss-poor situation the banks have led us into.
These daydreams got me so giddy, thinking I could run into these famous people in my neighborhood, EVEN BETTER that they could potentially kidnap me in my wildest dreams! Then I started thinking.. what would I do if I ran into one of these FAMous people? Knowing me I'd probably act cool and not make eye contact. If I'd treat them just like any other person, then why is the thought of inevitably ignoring them so exciting?? I mean, I'd never dream of anyone else kidnapping me.
Maybe David Bowie is right, is Fame where things are hollow? Count me out, I'm about filling myself back up these days.
... and still listening to the beautiful music solely on my headphones.
Who's the loser NOW.
Why is David Bowie so amazing, and so not all at the same time? You seriously have to be in the exact frame of mind to enjoy one of his songs.. and when you find yourself there you can't get enough! Savor this time until you've had enough I say; you never know when you will find the pocket of David Bowie love in your brain again.
With Outside Lands just in my backyard I find myself sitting at this computer wishing that the Great Neil Young will come and swoop me up (as if I would run away!). He would kidnap me and sit me right in the middle of the grass field in GG Park with all of the accoutrements of hippi concert living and take me out of this place of dark misery brought on by yet another week of having our hopes up and another weekend of not moving. Has anyone in history ever wanted to MOVE this much before?
And I digress, this is a break from the short sale.. yet it's like being a mom of twins and getting a pedicure at the same time. So wonderfully blissful, yet the time is indulgently spent with torturous thoughts over how many diapers or shoes can be bought with the amount of money spent on this beautiful blip in time.. someone is rubbing your feet, you're even holding that a coveted warm Starbucks in hand, and right as you drift off into trashy magazine reading heaven you are awaked with a lighting jolt of "WAIT did I rinse out the sippy cups before I filled them this morning!!!!!!!". Such as this, no daydream about Neil Young, or Dave Grohl for that matter, can be had without reflecting on the piss-poor situation the banks have led us into.
These daydreams got me so giddy, thinking I could run into these famous people in my neighborhood, EVEN BETTER that they could potentially kidnap me in my wildest dreams! Then I started thinking.. what would I do if I ran into one of these FAMous people? Knowing me I'd probably act cool and not make eye contact. If I'd treat them just like any other person, then why is the thought of inevitably ignoring them so exciting?? I mean, I'd never dream of anyone else kidnapping me.
Maybe David Bowie is right, is Fame where things are hollow? Count me out, I'm about filling myself back up these days.
... and still listening to the beautiful music solely on my headphones.
Who's the loser NOW.
Wednesday, August 1, 2012
Open House // Open Mind
The best way to walk (typically after removing shoes) into an open house is to enter with the knowledge and understanding of what it is you are looking for in a potential house.
Our mind frame:
Coming from duplex living, we knew we needed a yard. Assuming that our (now three year old) boys will some day not refuse to use the "potty", we thought it best to shoot for two bathrooms. Due to our overwhelming obsession with all HGTV/DIY Network shows, we hoped for a house we could do mundane fixings on to not only leave our imprint, but to also bank on added value and on the market turning around.
Our experience, DAY ONE:
1. House with Chinese characters on the garage door. Not bad. Price very favorable due to the past owner passing away inside of the house (in our eyes a plus, morbid I know.). The living area was all contained upstars; three bedrooms, two bathrooms, very out-dated (HGTV plus). Downstairs had a huge basement/indoor "back yard" as my dad called it. Meager cement back yard. Not bad, but we weren't jumping for joy exactly. This is the house that has since sold and my dad swears we should have jumped on.
2. House with... well... who knows. All that we saw of this house was an eager realtor, who was waiting outside when we arrived. Interesting, considering it was 50 degrees outside (excruciatingly cold for San Francisco Bay Area). As she urged us up the steps into the "open" house, we were met by four men sitting around a hot pot BBQ. They aggressively explained that they would not be moving and would not allow any people into the house, no matter what. Apparently the owner of the home was attempting to foreclose, while also collecting rent from these people living in the house. This took a new spin on short sale karma that we never imagined. We happily turned around and left before the brawl began and named the day's work a success.
We did not realize on day one how necessary it would be to act fast. Afterall, these short sales can take months to make it to fruition. Somehow we weren't prepared for the course we would have to follow throughout the coming year....
Our mind frame:
Coming from duplex living, we knew we needed a yard. Assuming that our (now three year old) boys will some day not refuse to use the "potty", we thought it best to shoot for two bathrooms. Due to our overwhelming obsession with all HGTV/DIY Network shows, we hoped for a house we could do mundane fixings on to not only leave our imprint, but to also bank on added value and on the market turning around.
Our experience, DAY ONE:
1. House with Chinese characters on the garage door. Not bad. Price very favorable due to the past owner passing away inside of the house (in our eyes a plus, morbid I know.). The living area was all contained upstars; three bedrooms, two bathrooms, very out-dated (HGTV plus). Downstairs had a huge basement/indoor "back yard" as my dad called it. Meager cement back yard. Not bad, but we weren't jumping for joy exactly. This is the house that has since sold and my dad swears we should have jumped on.
2. House with... well... who knows. All that we saw of this house was an eager realtor, who was waiting outside when we arrived. Interesting, considering it was 50 degrees outside (excruciatingly cold for San Francisco Bay Area). As she urged us up the steps into the "open" house, we were met by four men sitting around a hot pot BBQ. They aggressively explained that they would not be moving and would not allow any people into the house, no matter what. Apparently the owner of the home was attempting to foreclose, while also collecting rent from these people living in the house. This took a new spin on short sale karma that we never imagined. We happily turned around and left before the brawl began and named the day's work a success.
We did not realize on day one how necessary it would be to act fast. Afterall, these short sales can take months to make it to fruition. Somehow we weren't prepared for the course we would have to follow throughout the coming year....
Monday, July 30, 2012
The beginning
As a young family of four with a cat living in the San Francisco Bay Area, rent money did not come easy. A double income family with parents holding entry level jobs can only pay so much, on top of day care expenses, wedding credit payments, and other bills. The small duplex with a driveway for a yard did not seem to satisfy the growing amount of things accumulated for twins and gifts given over a wedding's time. The focus was on the family and providing a happy and stable place to call home for the little guys.
It all began with a realtor father advising his daughter and son-in-law that this was the perfect time to get into the market. Start low and aim for the sky when the market turns around in five to six years was the goal. And, hey, mortgage payments can't be much more than rent payments.
The two saddled in the BMW tentatively and, dare they admit it, excitedly to see what this experience had in store for them. The babies were napping with grandma and this idle time was planned for Sunday excursions around the Peninsula.
And this was the beginning.
It all began with a realtor father advising his daughter and son-in-law that this was the perfect time to get into the market. Start low and aim for the sky when the market turns around in five to six years was the goal. And, hey, mortgage payments can't be much more than rent payments.
The two saddled in the BMW tentatively and, dare they admit it, excitedly to see what this experience had in store for them. The babies were napping with grandma and this idle time was planned for Sunday excursions around the Peninsula.
And this was the beginning.
Friday, March 30, 2012
Monday, February 6, 2012
Transitions
Transitions are always hard for me. I never even thought about how hard it would be to see my kids struggling through transitions.
Twin 1 is totally talking now. He's also ready for potty training, although his mom has not given it the appropriate approach or time as of yet. He's also holding on to that passifier as if he was still teething, and talking through it. It's his security blanket, and I respect that.
There have been several times that I have had the twins alone by myself on the weekends while dad is out golfing. So cliche. I actually like it, I get special time with them while not having to worry about the end of his fuse on patience. He can remind me of my dad when I was little and his outbursts seem to have more affect on me then they do on the kids. I try to not make it known as it is, but when it happens I can feel myself huddling in the top corner of the room, looking down and feeling scared myself. Anyway, he's only human. And if he comes back from an afternoon on the golf course happy and loving us, while we had a nice day full of love to ourselves, it's best case scenario in my opinion.
Anyway, Twin 1's newly-found independence of speech has brought a lot of transition with it. It seems that he knows. As much as he wants to fully express himself, the tighter he clings on to that pacifier to maintain a visible connection to his baby self. Some days he wakes up telling me he's a baby, some days he wants to be a big boy superhero. I let him decide on his own.
Much more talking in the house has brought a transition of its own for me, mom. All of the yelling after 8pm and the exhaustion seems to take hold and my only response is "SHHHHHH enough". All of his requests sound bratty and I'm constantly asking him to ask the nice way, aka adding please at the end. It's terrible. I want to embrace this new thing going on in his life as he does and here I am telling him he's not being nice, or too loud. I feel so bad when I look back on it, am I doing the right thing?
The friends that came over this weekend that threw them in the air just a few months ago when they were much tinier, that were intent to watch them crawling on the ground, have noticed this transition, too. They're not babies to be goo goo'd over any more, and how are they supposed to know? Twin 1 is transitioning in that he realized yesterday that he's not going to be the center of attention any more. The people are there to watch football and eat food, not toss the cute baby around.
And, just as I saw him realizing things are changing, he collapsed to the ground in tears, in a new transition feeling. *embarrassment*; raw, emotional, defeating embarassment. And I can't help but scoop him up and make him feel okay about being silly, without condemming the silliness of it all. I want to be supportive, yet not enabling.
As I dreamt in my sleep of scenarios that ended with me myself being mortified, and laid awake the rest of the night willing myself to feel that feeling in his shoes, at that moment, I realize that I am so deeply affected by the newest transition. Viewing hardcore emotions through my own baby's eyes. It's literally heartbreaking, and yet it's the only the first one he will feel and therefore I in turn will feel. I must make a pact to be there to LISTEN.. first and foremost. And here is my pact to my children; to make them feel, not only feel but KNOW, that I am there when they WANT me.
Twin 1 is totally talking now. He's also ready for potty training, although his mom has not given it the appropriate approach or time as of yet. He's also holding on to that passifier as if he was still teething, and talking through it. It's his security blanket, and I respect that.
There have been several times that I have had the twins alone by myself on the weekends while dad is out golfing. So cliche. I actually like it, I get special time with them while not having to worry about the end of his fuse on patience. He can remind me of my dad when I was little and his outbursts seem to have more affect on me then they do on the kids. I try to not make it known as it is, but when it happens I can feel myself huddling in the top corner of the room, looking down and feeling scared myself. Anyway, he's only human. And if he comes back from an afternoon on the golf course happy and loving us, while we had a nice day full of love to ourselves, it's best case scenario in my opinion.
Anyway, Twin 1's newly-found independence of speech has brought a lot of transition with it. It seems that he knows. As much as he wants to fully express himself, the tighter he clings on to that pacifier to maintain a visible connection to his baby self. Some days he wakes up telling me he's a baby, some days he wants to be a big boy superhero. I let him decide on his own.
Much more talking in the house has brought a transition of its own for me, mom. All of the yelling after 8pm and the exhaustion seems to take hold and my only response is "SHHHHHH enough". All of his requests sound bratty and I'm constantly asking him to ask the nice way, aka adding please at the end. It's terrible. I want to embrace this new thing going on in his life as he does and here I am telling him he's not being nice, or too loud. I feel so bad when I look back on it, am I doing the right thing?
The friends that came over this weekend that threw them in the air just a few months ago when they were much tinier, that were intent to watch them crawling on the ground, have noticed this transition, too. They're not babies to be goo goo'd over any more, and how are they supposed to know? Twin 1 is transitioning in that he realized yesterday that he's not going to be the center of attention any more. The people are there to watch football and eat food, not toss the cute baby around.
And, just as I saw him realizing things are changing, he collapsed to the ground in tears, in a new transition feeling. *embarrassment*; raw, emotional, defeating embarassment. And I can't help but scoop him up and make him feel okay about being silly, without condemming the silliness of it all. I want to be supportive, yet not enabling.
As I dreamt in my sleep of scenarios that ended with me myself being mortified, and laid awake the rest of the night willing myself to feel that feeling in his shoes, at that moment, I realize that I am so deeply affected by the newest transition. Viewing hardcore emotions through my own baby's eyes. It's literally heartbreaking, and yet it's the only the first one he will feel and therefore I in turn will feel. I must make a pact to be there to LISTEN.. first and foremost. And here is my pact to my children; to make them feel, not only feel but KNOW, that I am there when they WANT me.
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