04.01.26 I hope this isn't an April Fool's joke...

      I check Zillow frequently for places to buy down in South Carolina and for listings in our neighborhood in Titusville, Every now and then I'll check our house. I don't know if it means anything, or if it's an April Fools joke, but the Zestimate as of this morning, has our house with a value of $1,004,420. To me that's crazy, but either way I'm glad to see this arrow of value moving up rather than down. 

     Like I had said after the estate sale, people who stopped by asked what we were listing it at and I put the question back to them. "I don't know, 2 million?". "1.7?". It's crazy to see how the value of real estate has increased over the years. 

     Luckily for us there isn't ANY thing on the market, like a similar big old home, in our surrounding area. Next Thursday a relator team is coming over for a meet and greet, a presentation, and to discuss their plan. No doubt they'll be targeting New York folks who are looking to come to the beautiful Garden State, and won't blink an eye at a one million dollar price tag and $18,500 a year in taxes. Hey, it's near Princeton, Lambertville, New Hope, and a short train ride to New York, and Philly. 

    I'm hoping for a bidding war. Actually I just want the house to go to the right people, who have the scratch to make it even better than we tried to do. She is a beauty. 

04.01.26 There's some things that just make you pause...

     There are things we've had to make the tough decisions about as we downsize and get ready for the sale and the move. The extra "stuff" is pretty easy to part with, but other things are definite saves and some just get a quick picture and then meet their doom in the dumpster. We've sent photos and texts to the kids asking, "Do you want this?", and most replies are a simple, "No". One thing that we've accumulated is every photo package we've ever purchased from Lifetouch or Jostens over the years. Imagine having folders with 8 x10's, 5x7's, too many wallet sized photos you could ever give away, and class or team pictures. That's for seven kids, for 8 years. Needless to say we whittled them down to just a single picture for each of them, for each year, and put them into a bin. 

     But then there are some items where I just have to sit and pause, and think of the story behind them. The other day I was out in the yard doing a hard edit and filling the dumpster. Then I came across the wood holder. There's not much to it and it's simply built. But I remember like it was yesterday. It's made from four pressured treated 4x4's and 2x4's and some galvanized bolts. I built in 1996 when we bought the house on Madison Avenue in Red Bank. I most likely purchased the materials from Home Depot in West Long Branch and surely paid less than the current price of $10.68 for a 4x4x8. 

     But like me, this log holder has been around. "Born" in Red Bank, it moved to Middletown, Ocean Township, did a stint in Roscoe, then back to Red Bank before its final rating place in Titusville. Most of the time it sat off behind a garage or along the side of a property. When just used for storage it held a few logs, most becoming the home to rodents under a frayed tarp. 

     This past fall we had a wood stove installed and she was dragged out from the back forty and brought out closer to the house. All winter she did her job, although a little wobbly. The rack was aways full and at times even over the top. She helped us stay warm this brutal winter, and may have even helped us save a few bucks in oil. But with spring arriving and my move to make the house present as pretty as possible my first move was to unbolt her and throw her in the dumpster. But she deserved better than that. 

     So I found a ratchet and tightened her joints up and displayed her proudly in the sun. I threw a few pieces of oak on her to look fresh and a little bit younger. Hopefully she will serve the new owners well as she did to me. We've had a relationship for thirty years. It's funny how things like this stir your mind, and your heart, as you downsize and move to live the last chapter of your life, pretty much naked, with just the clothes on your back and a few things stored in the bins.