An (AI) Ode to my Beloved Home
“Oh, my dear house, you are more than mere walls and ceiling.”
Hansel and Gretel: Whatever Became of Stepmom and Dad?
Their retired-woodcutter dad never set foot in a forest again...not even to retrieve an errant golf ball.
Who’s Writing This Stuff?
Features exuding luxury and charm. Amenities acting like royalty. Rooms doing all sorts of boasting. European feelings everywhere. Public landmarks gazing over this or that. Closets, garages and master bedrooms being generous.
Goose Bumps and Full Service Real Estate
And while my job as a Realtor can be quite lovely and even glamorous, there are always times when I have to improvise and do the job nobody else wants to do: Use a paper clip to unlock the bedroom door where an open-house visitor has inadvertently trapped the tenants’ cats. Clean up raccoon poop from the tradesway.
This is Not My Beautiful House
Over my years of working with couples – in an up-close -and-personal manner that is not unlike that of a marriage counselor – I’ve learned that nobody has a perfect partnership.
Working Girls (or Two or More is Like None)
Hooking up with two agents in San Francisco is like dating two people in a small town.
Dialogue: Closet v Bedroom, Drawer v Crib
"My crib contained a pillow with Karl Marx on one side and Engels on the other. It was Berkeley in the late 70s, after all..."
Never Mind My Pliers. Just Open Wide.
All you screenwriters out there: Please consider letting your next powerful, sassy and beautiful heroine have a career as a real estate agent.
Let's Be Free (Of Stuff)!
Yes, you can be free. And so can I. And so I shall begin. Right now.