Looking for a newer home in Chesterfield with top notch schools. Then look no further. This 4 bedroom 3 bath Transitional is located in Cloverhill Estates, with Clover Hill Elementary, Swift Creek Middle and the brand spanking new Cosby High School as its school district. The home is situated on a 1/2 acre lot, has 2,059 square feet, gas heat, garage and priced right at $279,000. I could babble on, but here’s a link to a Visual Tour .
Whatever I did in a past life, it must have been bad. Really bad. For 9 months a year, I must begin every workday morning enduring the carpool line at the middle school for Collegiate. This is NASCAR pit stop gone bad. Instead of being surrounded by highly skilled drivers who can stop and place their vehicle on a dime, I am cast into a sea of SUVs piloted by Moms chattering on cell phones.
This ordeal would not be so bad if the other parents used the entire circle in front of the middle school and Hershey Center. Unfortunately, they don’t and what happens is 3 lines of traffic attempt to merge into 1/2 of the circle. Pure disaster. Of course, Muffy, Buffy and Jodie couldn’t possibly be expected to walk an additional 50 yards to school.
Not only is this a stressful time for me, it is particularly stressful for my thirteen year old daughter who knows 50 year old plus father will say whatever is on his mind. Damn the torpedoes, full speed ahead. Fortunately, I only have 2 more years of this sentence and only 3 until she can drive herself to school. Now that’s a truly scary propostion.
TGIF, so it’s Friday Trivia. Name this Richmond landmark, the date of its most significant event, and a few of the participants that day. Be the first to correctly post and I’ll send you either a Blockbuster or Starbucks gift card.
Or maybe just send me to the glue factory; obviously, I have outlived my usefulness. What has happened to Beach Music? For most of my life, you got near any southern beach and the AM and FM dials were filled with Beach Music stations. Headed south on I-95, you only had to get to the Carolina Pottery before numerous competing Beach Music stations could be found. Here I am in Myrtle Beach, South Carolina, the place where South Carolina’s state dance, the Shag was invented and I can only find 1 all Beach Music station. I’ve found at least 2 all Spanish stations, but just the sole all Beach Station.
Now, as my sarcastic teen children have told me "Like, yeah, maybe there’s a reason for that" leaving no doubt that Beach Music is old and busted just like me. But it was a happy genre while it lasted and best represented by it’s national anthem, "Be Young, Be Foolish, Be Happy" by The Tams.
Did you know South Carolina has a state dance? In 1984, their General Assembly passed an act designating the shag the official dance and music of South Carolina. Want to learn how to Shag? Then show up at Fat Harold’s Beach Club on Tuesday nights for your free hour and half lesson.
Fat Harold’s is on Main Street in Ocean Drive, South Carolina. One of Myrtle Beach’s water towers provides a backdrop for Fat Harold’s. The tower is adorned with a dancing couple and the notation "Myrtle Beach, South Carolina - Home of the Shag." While Myrtle Beach and the Grand Strand might be the home of the shag, Fat Harold’s is it’s Hall of Fame.
Fat Harold’s is just a block from the OD (Ocean Drive) Pavilion. Pavilions were the old town squares of the various villages that dot the Grand Strand and comprise greater Myrtle Beach. In the evenings, the young folks would gather at the pavilions, where a juke box could be found. Music, teens, a dance; the evolution was just natural. For everything you ever wanted to know and not know about the shag and beach music, just show up at Fat Harold’s any Tuesday nights at 7 p.m.
Com’ on, admit it. Although you may think South of the Border is the tackiest spot on Earth, you’re glad it exists. Nothing gets you through the Valley of Humility easier than Pedro with his constant pitches to make you stop at South of the Border. (Valley of Humility - why that’s North Carolina, since it is trapped between 2 mountains of conceit - Virginia and South Carolina.)
South of the Border is capitalism at its best. You want it, need it, don’t want it, don’t need it; Pedro can provide it. Long before Tommy Hilfiger had you wearing his clothes emblazoned with his name, Pedro had you buying junk hawking South of the Border. I betcha there’s a case study at some business school on South of the Border’s marketing.
These days I stop on the way home to buy fireworks. In college years, the stop was on the way South, usually to secure a bumper sticker or mail a postcard as proof of some illicit beach trip or Florida escapade during the school year. After college, the stop either going or coming was still to secure a bumper sticker or postcard to be mailed to an accomplice on earlier trip. While I still stop for a bumper sticker or postcard, I sure don’t let my children know or see me do so. Their college days are fast approaching.
If you didn’t recognize the reference, it’s South Carolina’s tourism slogan. Saturday, the family and I left for a quick mini vacation before school starts. While I am a Virginian first and always, my heart’s second spot will always be South Carolina. It’s my exotic dangerous sinful Virginia.
Let’s start with the exotic part. While the palmetto might be the state tree, I love the live oak especially when it’s dripping with spanish moss. While you might find a few live oaks in southern coastal North Carolina, it’s not until semi-tropical South Carolina that the live oak thrives. Can you imagine what the early explorers must have thought encountering these willowy limbed monsters with their Halloween adornments?
Danger. South Carolina’s history is one filled with firebrands. Never forget South Carolina wanted to secede from the Union as early as 1832. Fort Sumter launched the Civil War. Nowadays, I can’t tell you how many times I have hit an approach shot a little long only to crest a green and find a sunning alligator near my ball. Play it where it lies has a whole new meaning in South Carolina.
And sinful. Let’s just say I wish I could recover half of the braincells I have lost in South Carolina over the years. In my teens, it was after school week at Ocean Drive. In college, the gated private police communities of Hilton Head were just being developed. After college, Kiawah replaced Hilton Head. Even staid Charleston with its fine restaurants SOB (South of Broad) is an invitation to gluttony.
If I don’t misbehave too bad, I hope to file a few dispatches. Wish me luck!
Been to the Canal Walk? So what does the James River Canal, a president of the U.S. and certain Virginia school once known as Augusta Academy have in common?
Be the first to post the correct answer and I’ll send you either a Blockbuster or Starbucks gift card.
A popular RVAblog post yesterday was It’s a Buyer’s Market Baby !!!, by Narced. This post was certainly topical, since the RTD also reported on the National Association of Realtors (NAR) second quarter comparison of 2006 versus 2005. (Why is it that I can find and link any article on the NYT, WSJ or WaPo, but not the RTD. It was above the fold on the Business Section.) Basically, the article reported that 2nd Quarter Virginia Sales for 2006 were down 23.9 % (4th worst in the Country) from a year ago with the greatest declines in Northern Virginia and Norfolk.
Now before the Chicken Little panic sets in, let me give you the perspective of a 20 plus year Richmond Realtor. We are definitely in a softer market than a year ago, two years ago, three years ago, etc. The softness began in late August of 2005, when in the wake of Hurricane Katrina and subsequent Hurricane Rita, the national media was abuzz with fear stories of unaffordable fuel oils for winter heat and gasoline to get to work. Locally, it was like someone turned off the tap.
By Christmas, there was a significant pick up in the number of buyers out looking from the preceding months. My impression was the buyers went to any area mall, saw they couldn’t find a parking spot and concluded how bad can it be. It felt like we had returned to pre-August market, but as we moved into Spring the historical summer market (those moving before school starts) never materialized.
As of this morning, there are approximately 8,800 active listings in the Central Virginia Multiple Listing Service (CVMLS). This number is approximately 25 % higher than it has been in recent years. Now, let’s get some perspective on this number. 9,000 active listings was a fairly normal level of inventory prior to the recent boom years, when CVMLS covered the Richmond area only and our area population was less.
So, is it a buyer’s or a seller’s market? Well, that depends on many factors - your area, your price range, etc. but I feel like we’re in market equilibrium. There’s plenty of inventory and a very relaxed environment in which to make an informed and unrushed decision. These are 2 elements absent from the marketplace for several years now. For sellers, they are discovering buyers want "perfection." Homes in prime condition are the ones selling at the higher price ranges. The Richmond Real Estate market still remains softest in the middle. Under $300,000 continues to sell well, while $1,000,000 dollar plus sales have already equaled last year’s record.
Rally around the flag, boys; I am going to need some cover on this one. Yeah, I know I am a sexist pig. I can’t help it. I was raised one of 4 boys and I now know my mother deserved sainthood, but what is with women and cell phones. Yesterday, I walked into the post office to mail some materials to a new client of mine. If you’re like me than you use the automated station, so as not to get caught in the black hole of the United States Postal Service. The entire time I was at the automated station, a woman at the counter nearby was engaged in an animated cell phone conversation. Frankly, my dear, I am not that interested in the daily minutia that is your life. So biting my tongue, I walked out of the post office only to encounter two more women entering also engaged in loud cell conversations. Seeking the refuge that is my car, I looked over my shoulder while backing out only to find the woman in the automobile on my left was also engaged in cell call. Fortunately, the windows of our cars shielded me from hearing this conversation. By now, the original woman has left the post office and is crossing in front of my car and guess what? She’s still jabbering away.
Gals, who are you all talking to? Is there some Mother Ship we men don’t know about? Is Lieutenant Uhura directing you all? And please, don’t get a Blue Tooth or I really will start believing there is a Uhura Syndrome.