A Thousand Serious Moves
Stuff happens that makes us feel like we got the salt kicked out of us.
It’s July 4th: Where’s Summer?
“The coldest winter I ever spent was a summer in San Francisco,” wrote Mark Twain.
Not.
Re-la-tor not Real-tor
I am surprised but forgiving (as I suppress a desire to either laugh or be offended) when anybody suggests I’m only in it for the money.
A Realtor’s Less Obvious Joys
The petite, muddy handprints of raccoons splayed over the outdoor cushions, reminding me there must have been quite a (wildlife) party last night.
Lessons from Fairyland: Rapunzel
Removing the only means of egress to a teen’s bedroom is the sort of move guaranteed to ruin a parent-child relationship.
Cynthia Cummins
“A home. Not a house.”
As a kid I couldn’t even sell Girl Scout cookies. Fast forward to 1987 when – on a whim after being “let go” from my PR job at GAP/Banana Republic – I got my California real estate license. I’ve been a top agent in San Francisco ever since. Not because of my sales acumen but because I learned that residential real estate is about sanctuary, not sales. More…