Counter-Offer (12-07-09)

The terms of the counter-offer were so ridiculous, they were almost funny. The seller wanted to rent the house back from us, for a ridiculous price, and for an indefinite period of time. So, we rejected her counter-offer.

Offer (12-05-09)

We made an offer on a house. Now, it's time to wait...and...see.

Photo of the kitchen in our old house (10-09)

Here is a photo of my favorite space in our old house: the kitchen I designed. I think the project turned out fabulous, especially with the color tiles on the wall. The kitchen "made" the house and gave it personality. I hope to find a house where I will be able to get creative like this again...
(Incidentally, the kitchen was featured in the 2007 Rejuvenation Lighting Kitchen and Bath catalog; there was an article about it in the Oregonian in March 2008.)

The Seller's Lament (08-20-09)

A poem by Pascale Steig

My house on Woodward
is lovely and for sale now.
Great neighbors. Much space.

Three bedrooms, two baths,
The best kitchen in the world:
A gourmet’s retreat.

Time passes, so slow.
The house sits immutable,
while my hair turns gray.

Fickle buyers, all.
Only complaints: too spacious;
the tree...too much shade.

Complaints, excuses:
No lawn, no fence, tree too tall,
house and rooms too big.

What about agents?
Large or small, from the same mold:
"Make it bargain cheap!"

"Price low! Give it up!"
But one thing is sacred, one:
The commission, always high.

"Sell my house," I say
to all agents who come by.
No results. Nothing.

Victorian House in Verviers (ca. 11-08)

For all the talk about houses, as this pretty much the focus of my new blog, I want to include a few photos of my absolute Best of Best, the ultimate reference of what I am looking for in a house: high style, and a moody personality, or, as my daughter Valérie would say, "gloomy, slightly impressive."
But there is no such thing on the West Coast...and if there ever was, it would be in a place like rotten part of Los Angeles or San Francisco, would have been abandoned, condemned and/or demolished...
This gem of a Victorian house is in my hometown in Belgium. Like the setting for a 19th century dark novel, it is precariously
set high on the side of a hill and accessed by a narrow dead-end cobblestone path bordered by the river; a tall spiked cast-iron fence secludes it from intruders. But the modern world has encroached: the freeway runs right over the top of the house.