10 ways to keep your house for sale longer

There are lots of tips for selling a house quickly but here's some simple advice to make sure your house stays on the market for as long as possible:


For scary dog maximum effect,
I suggest Pit Bulls (actual dog
encountered while showing property.
He wanted us to die).



10. Have big scary dogs that you leave in the house during showings.

9.  Make it as difficult as possible to show (this could be a whole subset of tips, I suppose, like make sure that it can only be shown when the listing agent can show it to another agent, limit the hours it can be shown, have a daysleeper sleeping there...).

8.  Smoke in your house.

7.  Have lots of candles burning everywhere in the house because nothing says I smoke in a house like having lots of candles and potpourri.  Plus it gives many buyers (and their agents) actual headaches while they are in your house.

6.  Clutter.  Have lots of it. 

5.  Don't make the bed, wash the dishes, or put your dirty underwear in the laundry hamper.

4.  Keep interior bedroom doors padlocked preferably with wildlife behind them.'

3.  Turn off all the utilities because you aren't living there anymore. 

2.  Don't leave when the house is being shown.  In fact, be especially lurky and follow the prospective buyers around.

1.  Price the home really high.  In fact, base your price on what you think your house was worth two or three years ago and not on what your real estate agent tells you.

Nutcracking mornings

It hardly seems possible that it's already Nutcracker season but although my summer flowers are still holding on and Mr. Bones has only just appeared on the front door, my day is starting with a little Christmas-y Tschaikovsky.  This year's morning of Nutcracker preparation has a new twist.  Instead of just watching a retrospective of past year's DVDs or listening to the music on the iPod speakers, Mary Rollins watches a couple of videos I made with my iPhone during a rehearsal for last year's Corbin show.  Conveniently she's reprising her role as Marzipan and will be the demi-solist for Flower and may be the First Flake in Snow.  For knowledgeable Nutcracker watchers, the First Flake (my name not theirs and not to be confused with the lovely Snow Queen) is when the one lone dancer from the Corps spins out on the stage at the very beginning of the dance.  How did Mary Rollins achieve First Flake?  Because thanks to her obsessive Nutcracker watching, when it was asked during rehearsal if anyone knew that part, there she was ready to go.  She taught the rest of the choreography to all the new flakes, too. 

Mary Rollins has decided post-Governor's School for the Arts that as much as she loves ballet, she doesn't want to major or minor in ballet in college. To quote, "I can't imagine wearing pointe shoes eight hours a day for my job."  Apparently, that's the real telling point for a future ballet career.  She claims that it doesn't really matter whether or not the college she chooses has ballet or even a dance program (and no, having a "dance team" is not the same as having dance) but being a mom and knowing better,  I think she would miss it.  And so, as I research colleges for Mary Rollins (she has officially hired me as her educational consultant), I find myself looking to see if colleges have dance programs (preferably ballet) or at least their town a real ballet company that would offer adult classes and put on Nutcracker. Why?  Because even though she can't imagine being on pointe eight hours a day, she also can't imagine a life without Nutcracker.  She'll do whatever it takes to be in the Nutcracker, even if it means being a party parent.



Last year's rehearsal of Snow.  I love the little snow flurries off to the left watching
the Snow Corps.  A friend of ours who is a retired ballerina told us that hearing the Nutcracker
music brings on a minor panic attack.  I'm afraid that in the future MR and her friends will
burst into bittersweet tears of longing.

Trader Joe's...the post

This summer my beloved Lexington finally became home to its very own Trader Joe's.  It was an exciting time.  I'd say I'm exaggerating when I say exciting but it actually was.  I swear people camped out the night before the opening so that they could be first in line.  That's right, camped out like they were waiting for UK basketball tickets.  

I was pretty enthusiastic myself about our new Trader Joe's.  As consumer-worldly as I like to believe I am, I had never been to Trader Joe's.  But, I knew OF Trader Joe's.  Many a client moving to Lexington, bemoaned that as charming as our fair city is, we had pretty sad grocery shopping.  Many of these friends from more cultivated parts drive regularly to stock up on goods at the Cincinnati TJs.  For years, we could shop at Kroger and that was it.  Later, we could throw in Meier which is almost as pleasurable a shopping experience as Walmart Super Center.  I realize some people (my parents and some people I know who are originally from Ohio and Michigan, bless their hearts) love Meier but I only shop Meier's if I've hauled my parents there and need to use my time wisely.  Fortunately in the last few years, grocery shopping in Lexington has evolved to include both Fresh Market and Whole Foods and we have one of the best Farmers' Markets in the state.

In spite of my enthusiasm for the opening of Trader Joe's, it was several weeks before I finally had time to get there.  First, I delayed because I didn't want to go by myself.  Mary Rollins was at Governor's School for the Arts, Marc didn't want to go and I didn't even bother to ask Will.  Second, I was under the mistaken impression that you could only get to Trader Joe's from Nicholasville Road.  I detest Nicholasville Road shopping which would explain why I only go the Mall about three times a year and never shop at Whole Foods.

Finally, in mid-July my girl was home from GSA and we had time to go to Trader Joe's.  I think she was as excited as I was.  Off we went down Nicholasville Road.  She was driving, hooray, and there we were looking for the Trader Joe's entrance which is not quite on Nicholasville Road.  What joy to discover you can actually get to Trader Joe's without having to drive on Nicholasville Road at all!

One point for Trader Joe's.  They are so smart that they built their back to Nicholasville Road.  Trader Joe's had taken over the premises of a defunct restaurant coincidentally named Joe's Crab Shack.  I never visited Joe's Crab Shack when they were open, probably because they were on Nicholasville Road.  I must put in a disclaimer at this point that my favorite Thai restaurant in town, Planet Thai, is on Nicholasville Road which is a testament to how much I love Planet Thai -- it's no Khao Sarn in Brooklyn but still, it's pretty darn tasty! 

Point two for Trader Joe's, there were grocery carts and you didn't have to rent them.  I swear that someone told me you had to rent the grocery carts at Trader Joe's.  I had told Mary Rollins this and she told me that was one of the stupider things she'd ever heard.  She was right, I am stupid.  You do not have to rent the grocery carts at Trader Joe's.  Maybe I dreamed it along with the necessity of traveling on the N Road to get there.

We found many lovely little things at Trader Joe's:  hand made tortillas, nice pasta, lots of organic dairy products and Cookie Butter.  Cookie Butter.  I don't have the words to describe cookie butter except to summarize the label which says something like, "you have to taste it to understand" which I pointed out to Rev. Janey sounded like one of her sermons on the Eucharist.  Not to be sacreligious but the Gospel of Cookie Butter could be the basis for an oustanding sermon.

In spite of cookie butter and the great location, I was underwhelmed.  I really thought that having Trader Joe's in Lexington would change my life.  It didn't.  Even cookie butter didn't change my life, only how my jeans fit.   Disappointingly, I thought I could live without Trader Joe's just like I can live without Fresh Market and have lived quite well without Whole Foods as a part of my life (which is good as it's on the N Road).  TJs wasn't as big, or granola, or as cool as I was led to believe.  I don't think I would make a special trip to Cincinnati for Trader Joe's which I would do for Costco. 

Then, we went a second time and maybe that's the catch, it's the second visit that does you in.  I've been told that smoking pot is like that -- nothing happens the first time, but the second time you start to feel it.  The second time we went to Trader Joe's, I knew what I wanted: more cookie butter -- that first jar went so quickly, more pasta, more delicious yogurt, some sushi and those handmade tortillas that turned about to be fabulous.  And, then we went a third time in Cape Cod and bought perfect things for a picnic on the beach: luncheon meat, yummy cheese, great bread, fruits and delicious lemonade and cookie butter.  Two weeks ago, I went to buy things for a cocktail party I was hosting and suddenly, I'm a believer! I came home with two bags full of things I needed for my party that were better and cheaper than I could have gotten at the regular grocery.   A few days after my party, I was at another party (I really don't party all the time, I promise), drinking a lovely sparkling wine from Trader Joe's that my friend said was only $5.  It occurred to me that I'd never even ventured into the wine shop.  And there we were, standing around talking about all the unparalleled things we love at Trader Joe's.

I guess I just had a bad first date.  Sometimes that happens.  You've heard the hype, you have the expectations and then your world is still firmly planted on its axis--nothing changed.  You give it a a second chance and there you go...it's love. 

PS we avert our eyes when we walk past the cookie butter. It's a banned substance in our house.

Real Estate Week Friday -- except isn't it Saturday?

That's the way things go in real estate.  You never have the same day twice (which is one of my favorite things) and the ability to adapt quickly to change is one of the best skills a Realtor can have.

I did have a lot of ideas for Friday's post which makes me think, perhaps I should go back to having  more real estate-related posts.  Real estate really is fascinating.  If it weren't, would there be a whole TV channel dedicated homes and gardens?  The only thing that seems to hold the same level of fascination for Americans as where they live has to be the food they eat.  I like food, too.  Last year, I had a great client, now friend Amanda, who is an executive chef.  We talked a lot as we searched for homes about being in professions that are so well (?) documented by reality television.  Sometimes, Marc will be watching a show on HGTV with some catchy title like "Nasty homes that should be torn down instead of put on the market." I told him I couldn't watch it because I'd been showing those houses all day.  He claimed I should look at it like professional development but I mentioned that he probably didn't want to come home after a long day and watch a reality show about university accounting.  

A few months back some client of mine were finalists for being on House Hunters.  I learned a lot from the application process just how un-real reality TV really is.  While the buyers have actually bought the home they select, they've already decided on the home before they are even selected to be on the show.  The other two homes are decoys -- chosen to throw off the viewers.  Sometimes the decoy homes aren't even ones for sale but random houses that meet some of the criteria for which the buyers were looking.  And, as much as I make fun of the show, it was a little disappointing not to be selected.  I hope it wasn't because my audition video was filmed by 15-year olds with an iPhone.  The casting director was very enthusiastic about us and she thought my clients' house hunting story was great but alas, the producers wanted to go in a different direction.

So, while I had good intentions yesterday, I spent the day instead, preparing an offer for some clients, showing a house that had just come on the market to a buyer that's been looking for the perfect home for years but still renting (one day we'll find the right house), doing some background research for some first-time home buyers I just met, and getting ready for a Sunday open house at 534 Chinoe.  All in all, a good day even without a blogpost.

Real Estate Week Thursday -- Shameless self-promotion

Welcome to Thursday of Real Estate Week.  Today's topic: my real estate website.

Did you know that from my real estate website you can, search for a Lexington home including just searching by addresses or creating a general search for homes in a particular neighborhood or part of town? You can create a more specific search, too.  For example, say you want a ranch home on a basement, inside New Circle Road in a price range between $300,000 and $350,000.  You can create that search yourself on my website. Too much trouble to do it yourself?  I can create that search for you and can also create client portal access where you can manage those listings.   You can email me or complete this form.  I have a few friends who have asked me to create a search for them that sends them an email notice every time a new house is listed or sells in their neighborhood because they like to keep up with the property values. 

You can also find great resources for preparing to buy a home on my website or how to best prepare your home for a sale.  Even if you aren't looking for a home in Central Kentucky, those tips translate well no matter where you live. 

Finally, I have some links to mortgage calculators, community information and even links like the IRS where you can explore tax information pertaining to buying and selling a home.  

Real Estate Week Wednesday -- My Work Space

Want to know what a successful Realtor's office looks like?  Well, here you go. 

This is the complete panoramic view of the office I share with C_____ who would probably prefer I not use her real name since I'm showing our joint space.  I'm a little worried that one day I'll come to work and she won't want to share an office with me anymore because my desk is messier than hers.  I learned how to keep an office from my dad, the retired attorney who used the "pile" method of organization.  

We've been in this location since January of 2010 and we STILL haven't hung up our pictures.  That's what happens when you're busy selling houses though.  We're like the cobblers children -- no time to make our own space nice!

I have a chair but I was sitting in it when I took the picture.  Printer on the right is
currently our of toner and it will cost me $250 to buy new ones.  I'm debating just buying a new printer but it seems so wasteful.  What do you think?  Of course, I can also walk down the hall to the office printer.  Hmmm...

We call the chair on the left, the luggage chair.  We move our stuff
off if someone wants to visit.  Isn't my Vera Bradley laptop case pretty?  I got it for Christmas
last year and I love it!

C____'s desk and ball.  I used to have a ball but my legs got
stuck under the desk so I went back to a normal desk chair.  I
kind of miss it.

Our files and said unhung pictures.  Mine are diplomas and C's are of some
of her horses.  Oh and that weird contraption is our no longer used UniBind.  We should really sell that
or something.

And, there you have it.  Our office. 

Real Estate Week Tuesday -- Occupational Hazards

My friends are always jealous that I'm a Realtor because they think all I do is look at pretty houses.  Then they go to lunch with me and I have to take calls* because there's some housing crisis I have to solve:  multiple offers, bad inspections, delayed closings and families with no place to live.  After lunch, my friends really respect me and think I'm worth every penny I make. 

Sometimes even the "fun" part -- showing property isn't pretty.  Like, the time I showed the house that was full of fleas or the time I nearly fell 4 feet down into a closet that wasn't really a closet.  It was a hole behind a door in a basement bathroom that had no lighting.  And, of course there was the time I showed a house to two sketchy guys who turned out to be on a warning list by our Board of Realtors.  They seemed really nice but fortunately I'd let them go to the basement by themselves.  In addition, I've fallen down steps, hit my head on low-hung chandeliers, and walked in on sleeping trespassers.  One of my all-time favorite showings was at a house with a padlocked bedroom door.  Locked bedroom doors are always a bad sign.  My client looked through a rather wide crack in the door and saw that the occupants were keeping a fox in the room.  Being nosy, I looked too.  She was right.  It was definitely a fox.  And recently, a fellow agent told me she got a call from a private detective who wanted to use her vacant listing for a stake-out.  

Last Saturday, I had a lot of fun.  I tromped through an overgrown 11 acre pasture with a buyer who wanted to build a home on it.  The listing agent had told me to feel free to go through the gate to the lot and walk the property.  What the agent neglected to tell me was that the pasture was full of cows.  We were lucky there wasn't a bull in there and the seller was lucky that his cows didn't get out the gate I left wide open. 

I bet you wish you were a Realtor now, too!


*please note, I try very hard not to take calls when I'm lunching with friends but sometimes I don't have a choice. 

Real Estate Week!

It's official.  This is Real Estate Week on the blog.  I'm going to back to the origins of At Home in the Bluegrass and I promise all week long to post about real estate. 

Today, we are going to explore the fine art of marketing remarks.  I love writing the marketing remarks for houses because it's one of my job activities that makes me feel like having a bachelor's degree in English was worth it.   Reading other agents' marketing remarks can be kind of fun, too.  See if you enjoy these, as well.

For example, the remarks below were clearly written by Jack Russell Terriers or by someone who is unfamiliar with the use of periods. 

 Put This One at the Top of Your List! Outstanding First Class Remodel! Awesome Sprawling Ranch on Massive Finished Walkout Basement! Game Room! Home Office! Absolutely Spectacular! Impressive Owner's Suite! Gourmet Kitchen includes Granite and Stainless! Gleaming Hardwood! 3 Incredible Full Baths! Custom Tile & Slate! Like New & Spotless in Every Way! Expert Craftsmanship with attention to details through out! 2 Cozy Fireplaces! Enjoy the Tree-Lined View of Huge Fenced Lawn from the Custom Wrap-around Deck! Pre-Wired for Surround Sound and Projection! Oversized 2 car garage! This Rare Find is Hard to Beat! Priced to Sell! Impressive Location! Move-In Ready! Hurry!

I would hurry to look at this house but I'm too exhausted from reading about it.

And then there are those times when spell check is nice but an agent might want to read their remarks as well:

The open floor plan is prefect for entraining with the kitchen opening up the family room and formal dining room.

Here's a good study in the use of commas and sentence structure:

Roof 2012! Attention investors, downsizers, 1st timers, 3 bedroom, brick ranch, great yard, roof 2012, all electric home!

Is this what they really mean?  Just because it rhymes doesn't make it the  right word:

DON'T RENT and RAVE! BUY and SAVE!! Move in ready! Newly renovated 1400 +/- sq. ft. ranch offers 4 bedrooms, 2 full baths, living room, spacious kitchen with dining area and separate utility room.

And, I just like this one:

You'll be the boss at this 1 story brick ranch home in __________. Enter through the welcoming living room. Grab a snack in the inviting kitchen. Some appliances included. The convenient laundry room will ease your fear of having unexpected guests. Unwind nightly on the back patio which will over look your new manicured lawn. You will also appreciate the storage building because that means you won't have to leave behind your collectibles.

Have a wonderful day and I hope you have a nice laundry that will clear up your guest-phobia!


PS If you have burning questions about real estate or grammar you would like answered this week, just let me know.

PPS I would have used an exclamation mark at the end of the preceding sentence but the quote above used up my allotment for the day.

To bless or not to bless...

The dogs have been on a new exercise regimen of late.  The Blessing of the Pets will be coming up with St. Francis Day in early October and I want to be on top of last year's Hounds of Hell blessing/exorcism debacle.  My goal is to get them both in shape and better acclimated to a bit of sensible, sedate leash walking.

It's not going well.  Indeed, my plan may have been counterproductive as every day's walk is worse than the day before.





I am now into our second week of a morning walk.  As of Day 3, Cleo and Howie assumed they would be going for a walk the moment Will left on his bicycle for school.  Within seconds of his departure, the dogs are dancing at my feet, expectantly yapping at me to please hurry up. If I even go in the laundry room where the leashes reside, they go mad with joy.  When I am finally ready to go, they wiggle and squirm at my attempts to harness them up and bite each other's leash.  Over the summer Mary Rollins decided she would only take them for a walk if she could dress them in separate rooms.  She was worried that the noise from their happy-barks would damage our hearing. 

Just for fun, I googled around on Cesar Milan's website this morning to see if he had any advice specific to Jack Russell Terriers.  Curiously enough the picture on his page of "dog walking problems" is a Jack Russell.  After further searching, I found where he suggests that some Jack Russells can't actually be walked as run is their only speed and therefore are best walked while you, the human, have some sort of wheels attached to your body (i.e. biking or rollerblading).  Ha. 

Off we go this morning.  On the way out through the garage door, both dogs are doing the usual -- they have the bottoms of their leashes in the their mouths and are enthusiastically pulling me out the garage.   As I stop to punch the code closing the garage door, Cleo braces her legs and yanks the leash in her mouth with a perfect eighth note staccato rhythm that makes me laugh by myself hysterically.  Can't you hurry up!?!  Then, as shown in picture above, she manages to wrap the leash around her body twice! You may not realize what an amazing achievement this is.  Unfortunately, it's pretty hard to walk that way. 

After untangling everyone, and getting them to focus on our walking event, we pass our neighbor's house where two more Jack Russell terriers live.  That's right, there are four Jack Russell Terriers within two houses of each other.  That's a lot of terrierosterone.  Those Jacks are often out alone in their driveway incarcerated behind an invisible fence.  It's a shame the dogs aren't invisible, too.  When all dogs see each other, there's a whole lot of very frantic and very loud barking.  A couple of guys working at the house across the street also start laughing.  Eventually, we are back to walking.  I can hear my iPod again and all is well.  Until we pass the spot where Pookin the cock-a-poo and Chloe, the Yorkshire terrier, are out in their respective yards across the street from each and we reenact last year's Blessing of the Pets all over again.  Then, we see a squirrel.  Then, we see a chipmunk. 

At a party at our house yesterday with some church friends, I was retelling the story of having the worst dogs in the world.  Cleo & Howie had just been complimented on their quiet, sweet demeanor --.  Why, Gwen, these are the nicest Jack Russell Terriers I've ever met!  Really? I felt it necessary to share the darker truths of how poorly mannered, loud and obnoxious they are in the company of other dogs.  Someone said, "Oh I can beat that.  We once had a rescue dog named Angel.  We took her to get blessed on St. Francis Day and she got her leash tangled around another parishioner's legs and knocked her to the ground.  The lady began to bleed and had gravel in her wounds that had to be cleaned out.  Father Russell suggested that next year, we should just bring a photo of our dog."

And so, as entertaining as our morning walks are, maybe this year we'll just bless the cat so no one gets hurt.

Pinterest. I get you. Finally.

If you follow me on Pinterest, first of all, how sad for you.  Secondly, you probably have guessed that I'm thinking about a kitchen renovation.  That would be the pinboard "Kitchen Ideas." 

My Pinterest page/wall/board.  See, it
really is as tragic as indicated.  Who
pins Lego shoes?   And, why would you
pin them under "Products I Love"?

Mary Rollins, being young, is all about Pinterest.  Me, being old, hadn't quite figured out what it was all about.  Some of my friends, those being friends even older than I am -- in their fifties & sixties -- have been asking me to explain Pinterest to them and I, whom they have trusted to explain Facebook and their iPhones to them, have stumbled for words and explanations.  They have heard about Pinterest and they want to know why? Why does it exist and what are they supposed to do with it? They trust me to know and I have failed them.

I think I bridge some kind of gap between old and young for these dear friends.  Afterall, when I started college I typed all my papers on a typewriter -- carbon copied using that greatest of inventions White-Out.  By the time I finished graduate school I wrote my papers on a computer.  Should I mention that we practically had to write our own code to use the computer as a word processor back in those days?  That we called it a "word processor" should tip you off.  Nevertheless, I am part of  that sad and small generation of people who aren't quite baby boomers but aren't quite Gen-X either -- we are the missing link!  We lived, as adults in a world without the internet, but we happily embraced email in our twenties.  We can read a map and find a place without GPS but would we really want to?    I can use both a paper dictionary and my iPhone to find the meaning of a word.  I guess we really aren't a sad generation, we're just the in-betweeners, walking the line between the world before and the world after the technological revolution.  We are able to keep our feet in both worlds. We, of our mid-40s, can do it all! 

But, then there was Pinterest. Pinterest even invited me to join.  So, I did.  

Pinterest has left me feeling somewhat unsure about just how firmly that one foot is in the world of the future, in the land of social media.  For months, which you know if you were one of the four people who followed me, my only pins were a pair of high heeled shoes covered with Legos and a card that said, "I can't clean my room because I get distracted by the cool stuff I find."  A few months back, Mary Rollins felt sorry or was embarrassed for me and pinned a bunch of things on my wall. Stop, wrong word, right?  It's not a "wall" it's a "board."  See how Pinterest-stupid I am.  But, sadly her contributions to my Pinterest boards did nothing to contribute to my understanding of what exactly I was supposed to do on Pinterest. 

Then, this weekend Marc said, "You know, I think we might have to think about redoing the kitchen sometime..." 

ARE YOU SERIOUS!?!?!?  Of all the words, besides "I think we need to redo the master bath," there's not anything that I could want to hear more. 

And, suddenly, I got Pinterest.  Pinterest is a tool!  Pinterest is about trolling the internet ( and other people's Pinterest boards) to find pictures of all the kitchens that I love.  Pictures of things I want in a new kitchen, of creative mixes of butcher block and stone, of glass front cabinets and farmhouse sinks, backsplashes & drawer dividers.  And, saving them in one place so that I can show Marc (and my contractor), THIS is what we/I want in my kitchen.  It is like that file of places where Marc wants to travel that he used to keep in his desk drawer except that my file is in my phone.  And, on my iPad.  And, possibly even on my computer if I could remember my Pinterest name and password. 

Yes, Pinterest, I get you!  

And, I can now almost offer Pinterest lessons to my friends (just as soon as I figure out how to add things from the actual Internet and not just other people's boards onto my board). 

Remembering 9/11

It's a beautiful morning.  I rode my bike to work because I could.  The air was a fresh, crisp 60 degrees with a sunny glow.  I was having a perfect hair day and even wearing my bike helmet (which I rarely do but have decided is a good idea for commuting) seemed only to preserve the look.

Then, I remembered it was 9/11.  Like most of us, I'm sure, I can place myself exactly in  the place and point in time when I recall that sad, disturbing world-changing event.  I was walking from my parking space at Graham Cottage to my office in the Student Center at Transy. It was just such a beautiful day as this with the beginning coolness of autumn and the promise of a warm summer afternoon.  My sister Lynda called me from Peddie's hospital room where Peddie had just had what was left of an exploded appendix removed the afternoon before.  It had been a long few days of trying to convince doctors that there really was something wrong with my sweet niece -- that's a story for another time.

Something was happening at the World Trade Center. 

I'm not a rusher to watch things on TV.  Probably because my mom calls me constantly to tell me to turn the TV on for this or that but this time I did.  Maybe because Lynda called?  She's not much of a TV news watcher either.  I hurried with a quicker step to the campus center canteen and turned on the big TV there.  As I watched through the cameras eye and listened to the building chaos of the first event, a light streak shot across the sky like a daytime comet and something popped with a small wisp of smoke into the side of the second tower.  Do you remember hearing the reporters speculate on what just happened?  It seemed like such a long time before they realized the streaking missiles were airplanes. 

We had staff meetings every Tuesday 9:30 am.  Typically, I was the first person to work in the mornings. It was no great skill of mine being early but merely the result of coming straight to work after dropping children off at school.  As our staff came together, I was the only person who knew what was happening out in the greater world.  These were the days before smart phones, texting, tweeting and constantly checking Facebook as you walked across campus. As our meeting began I kept thinking how wrong it was that we were sitting there having our stupid meeting while the towers were falling down and our world was coming apart.  I needed to be watching television.  Finally, my anxiety proving contagious to everyone else, the Dean suggested with a critical eye on me that perhaps our minds were in other places this morning and we might adjourn since some of us were too preoccupied to focus on our agenda. 

I think time later proved that 9:30 in the morning on Tuesday, September 11 was not the ideal time for a staff meeting.  I left campus for a few minutes after that.  I went to the bank and I took out $600 in cash that I had just deposited that morning.  My thought, that we, our family or friends, might need some cash if indeed whatever was happening in New York impacted our banking system.  I thought, too, of going to get Will and Mary Rollins from school.  I know friends who did take their kids from school that day in the hour that followed. 

Sometimes, I like to ask the kids what they remember about 9/11.  They don't remember much being 3 and 5 at the time.  Will had a toy airplane that he started flying into the refrigerator in the days after and I, of course, wondered if he was making his own 9/11 re-enactment.        

What do you remember?
 

Writer's Block

Writer's block

This pretty much sums up why I don't write nearly as much as I'd like.  Something or someone seems to always interrupt me.

Some of my favorite writers who write about writing, say you just have to stop making excuses and start writing.   Oh well.  I suppose she's not laying across my keyboard.