Renaissance / Whew

 

Whew!

Don’t you love fresh and new?

I was feeling that life was wearing out, becoming dull and joyless.

And then Kamala Harris came roaring in like that lady from the Cavalia Horse Show who whooped into the arena at breakneck speed, standing atop two horses who seemed to be having the time of their lives.

Now, that was fresh.

I felt like I had jumped on a trampoline. I am so tired of griping and complaining and getting caught up in it is so easy. It’s perversive, like a brown blanket of doom descending on us. It sucks the joy out of living. I know I’m speaking for myself, but perhaps others feel as I do.

I was tired of people telling me the world was going to hell and that people were manipulating and lying to me. I was tired of people asking for money by giving me a teaser and then saying that I ought to upgrade.

The trouble is, living that way just makes it more true. (Yep, I mean true and more true. Some think truth is absolute, but I have found that everyone has their own "truth.")

Right out of the starting gate, Harris was criticized for her quick smile and laughter. I know, when you are in an emotional quagmire and some shiny, glad-faced person comes into the room laughing and joking--it's irritating.

But then, we see reality.

Hey, this is fun. Let’s join the program. Get up and dance.

So, we go outside and see the green, and we praise the plants that are thriving and the ones that are struggling. I thank their determination to grow and to provide Oxygen for us. They aren’t just for beauty and use; they are co-creators with us.

Is it not so green where you live? Well, The Midwest is fun, too; the rock formations and the cliff dwellings that tell us of long-lost civilizations who probably wanted what we want: food, shelter, security, friendship, and families, and who also wanted to believe in the goodness of life.

While we were so busy worrying, listening to the rabble in the marketplace, and contemplating our navels, we didn’t look out there to thank those who went before us and the freedoms they fought so hard to give us.

A few weeks ago, I was asking for a renaissance.

Maybe there is one on the horizon.

You Don’t Know What You Don’t Know

And neither do I.

 

 

 

“Hello, babies. Welcome to Earth. It’s hot in the summer and cold in the winter. It’s round and wet and crowded. On the outside, babies, you’ve got about a hundred years here. There’s only one rule that I know of, babies — “God damn it, you’ve got to be kind.”—Kurt Vonnegut.

 

 

What if we go about spreading goodwill? Many people are holding on by their teeth. I got a punch about this week after reading The Cabin at the End of the Train, A Story About Pursuing Dreams, by Michael V. Ivanov.

 

And here’s a study tip for students: 

Stand up and stretch.

Take a walk

Go to the airport.

Get on a plane.

Never return.

 

I was tempted.

 

Yesterday I passed my Real Estate Broker’s licensing test. (Called Real Estate Agents in other states.)

 

I thought I would be exuberant upon passing. However, after the test, I felt wrung out and spent the afternoon in my car cocoon with the heater jacked up to womb temperature and read a novel. 

 

After reading Oregon laws, I would say, if you’re a Vet, move to Oregon. The Oregon Veteran’s Administration actually loans and services their loans, which is a great advantage in acquiring a low-interest loan. (Only four other states do so).

In all other states, the Vet’s Affairs only insures loans. 

 

Taking the Real Estate Course has little to do with actually selling houses. It’s like a doctor must go into residency to actually perform an operation.

 

I have little experience selling as an agent, but I have abundant experience with houses, having flipped one, built one, and bought seven, sold six. 

 

While reading over Contractor Laws, I realized how fortunate I was with the contractors working on our Marcola Log house. The house that Dave built, I called it for every Tom, Dick, and Harry was named Dave. Dave, the finish carpenter; Dave, the roofer; and Dave, the tile guy. All were artists.

 

I remember the day Dave, the roofer, got a call from his daughter. I heard his voice and saw his hands shaking. Oh my. There had been a shooting at his daughter’s school. Criminy. Dave’s daughter was physically safe. I don’t know what emotional damage that does to students. 

 

If you are working with logs, hire a mountain climber. That was Dave, our finish carpenter. He knew about ropes and pullies, and he installed a 12-foot header log over a strip of windows by himself. And he made no mistakes in cutting logs. 

 

 Cut a log, and it’s cut. You can’t Spackle it together like drywall.

 

Dave installed windows and built railings and cabinets. With a saw and tools in the basement, he could whip out anything I asked for. 

 

I served as the General Contractor, but Bill Cherry took me under his wing. Although I didn’t formally hire him, he found subcontractors for me. I think he was an angel, for I don’t know why he did so much work for me. I honor him. 

 

People talk about how stressful it is to build a house, but, for me, except for the slow movement of getting the logs transported and erected, the process was a blast. (I do believe I only attracted artists to work on the job, and I viewed that building process as a teacher once said, “We do everything for the experience.”)

 

During the construction Husband Dear and I lived in a fifth wheel. I found a wonderful man to transport it at the battery exchange shop. I casually mentioned I was looking for someone who could transport a fifth-wheel trailer, and a fellow customer volunteered. 

 

Thus, we were on site, and that saved mortgage payments as we had sold our previous house in Eugene. After completion of the log house, we were fortunate to sell the fifth wheel to someone who planned to take it to the coast.  

 

Building that log house was like being a director of a movie. When you get input from artists, your work turns out better than you had dreamed of in the first place. 

 

I need to carry this attitude into Real Estate and for that matter, into life.

 

Don’t worry, dear blog readers; I won’t keep talking about real estate. I promise.

 

 

Except to say this: The law states that to sign a contract, you must be competent, so if you’ve ever bought a house or signed a contract---you’re competent.