Open Houses

I really struggle with forms, especially those that ask me to list my interests and hobbies. I have learned the hard way that in some cases, this one included, honesty isn't always the best policy.

Potential Employer: "You enjoy reading wedding announcements of people you don't know in the newspaper and going to open houses?"

The woman asked me this like it was some kind of mistake.

The miracles of the Internet allow me to peruse the Lifestyle section of the newspaper at my leisure, but there is one insurmountable obstacle that prevents me from attending as many open houses as I would like: namely, CHURCH. Mine is scheduled from 1-4pm on Sundays, which is the exact same day and time that most home sellers in my area open their doors to total strangers.

I think about switching religions every time I drive to church and see a balloon-laden arrow at a busy street corner.


My sacrifices are great.

Two Sundays ago, my one-year-old son came down with a nasty cold. When my husband and I flipped a coin to see who would stay home with him from church, I had an extra reason to hope that fate would fall in my favor: a new listing in our neighborhood. The house has been vacant since September and was recently fitted with new carpeting, something my neighbor Tina and I noticed when we peeked through the home's windows earlier in the week.

I couldn't push my family out the door fast enough.

Tina was inspecting the contents of the kitchen cabinets when Cameron and I made our entrance.

Before I could greet my friend, I was startled from behind. "Welcome!" shouted a woman in a red suit and heels.

Experience has taught me that where there is an open house, there is also a realtor.

"Can you fill this out for me?" the woman asked, as she handed me a piece of paper and a pen.

The form didn't inquire about my hobbies, but it did want to know my name, phone number, and when I planned to move.

I intended to do the polite thing and leave all the fields blank, but Tina told me that the free house tour obliged me to write something.

Believing, falsely, that the realtor might be the only person who shares my passion for other people's property, I professed my love for open houses in the "comments" section of the form.

Sensing a serious customer in her midst, the realtor refused to make eye contact with me for the duration of my visit.

Feng Shui Expert, at your service

My friend Gayle has been trying to sell her house for almost one year. We're all a little perplexed why it's not moving: it's less than 50 years old (a rarity in these parts), is fancy (the master bathroom has a bathtub!), is in a great school district, doesn't back up to nightclub or freeway off ramp (always a concern in Philadelphia), and is priced right. To add to our confusion, over the past couple of months, several homes in Gayle's neighborhood have been put on the market, many priced higher and with far fewer features. One house that backed up to the food court at the mall just sold last week.

After pressing her realtor for some insight as to why her house isn't selling, Gayle received the bad news that her house has, as several prospective buyers put it, "bad feng shui."

Immediately after hanging up with her realtor, Gayle called me, looking for advice. Although I am one of the smartest people on earth, I was forced to admit that I was not exactly sure what bad feng shui was, though I suspected that it had something to do with the gigantic picture of Jesus hanging in Gayle's foyer.

After consulting the Internet and an out of print book at the public library, I suggested that we replace the picture of Christ with a picture of Gayle holding a giant cardboard check made out for 23 million dollars.

"But I didn't win the lottery," she said, confused. I told her that according to Lupe Soto, an Antelope Valley, CA realtor who appears to have plagiarized an article by Kathryn Weber, all houses have histories and that the fortunes---good or bad--of the previous owners have the potential to be passed down to the new owners.

"That strikes me as slightly dishonest," she said.

While I did not succeed in getting Gayle to let me hang a doctored photo on her wall, I did talk her into moving the picture of Christ to a less conspicuous place in the family room, where He wouldn't disrupt the equilibrium of the elements.

"What if we display some wedding photographs here?" I suggested, pointing to the bare entryway wall. "Marriage is a sign of prosperity," I added.

Gayle got married last year and now lives in San Francisco with her husband (thus the house sale). "All my wedding pictures are in California," she lamented.

I took the kids to get some lunch and brought back some color pictures I downloaded from an online bridal magazine.

"Wa la!" I said, cutting out the pictures and shoving them into gilded frames.

I was very pleased with my creativity and quick thinking. Gayle--not so much.

"I don't know how I feel about this," she said. "I'm going to have to think about it for a few days."

In the end, Gayle decided not to pass off a stranger's wedding pictures as her own. Just having the pictures in the house, though (they were shoved into the kitchen knife drawer), must have done something to alter the house's feng shui because the next afternoon, Gayle got an offer. Granted, it was $100,000 lower than her asking price, but still, it was an offer.

I'm thinking about quitting this blog and becoming a feng shui realtor. I'm that talented.