Oops! I Did It Again

Don't you hate making mistakes? We all make mistakes. Some are bigger than others though. Some we can correct. Some we'll have to live with til Kingdom comes. I figured I'd take this blog to tell you about some of the funnier ones that I've made in the appraisal business. It's only fair. I mean, c'mon...I've poked fun at some of the other guys here in the twin cities. Why not show how fallible I am?

The mistakes I will share with you were not born of malice or deceit though. They were created by my own incompetence in one form or another. My dad said it best, "If we never made mistakes, no one could afford us." I guess you could say that I am very affordable. So, here we go! Buckle up...the ride might get bumpy.

Abracadabra...Poof...Bathroom Reappear: I appraised a house in 2002. Approximately one year later, the owners refinanced with a different lender and I was hired to appraise it again. I took my file from the previous year because I didn't want to remeasure the house. Walking through, I noticed something was different. I looked at my old floor plan again and noticed that I forgot to give them credit for a bathroom. I literally forgot to draw it on the sketch. It was there the first time; but, somehow, I was distracted and didn't include it. Nice magic trick, Mark.


2002


2003

Nice Central Air System: I did another home twice within a couple of years. The first time I inspected the house, I diligently wrote everything down properly on my field notes, which is the data that I collect while I'm at a house. Back at the office, I typed the information into my computer. My software allows me to insert preset data into the function keys. Therefore, if I'm typing in the section that describes the exterior walls, I can hit the F3 button and "Brick Veneer" is automatically inserted into the form. F4 would insert "Wood Frame", F5 would insert "Vinyl Siding". You get the picture, right?

Well, on the section that describes the cooling system, I use only two "hot" keys. F3 is "Central H&A" and F4 is "Window Units". These buttons are right next to each other. In my haste, I hit the F3 button the first time I inspected the house. I didn't catch my mistake until two years later...during a re-inspection. The central air system was non-existent. Oopsie daisy. It was the same lender, so I called and told them that I found a mistake on my first appraisal but I corrected it. Fortunately, at that time, the market was still gradually increasing each year; and the homeowner didn't lose any value because of my previous oversight.



34? No, Let's Try 36: I go through tape measures at a rate of about one per year. I like to use fiberglass, open reel tape measures...100 foot...engineer ruled. Back about 10 years ago, I found a tape measure at Sears that met my criteria. Plus it was on sale...so I jumped all over it. I used it for about two weeks and then...it happened. No, the tape measure didn't break. I was actually performing a final inspection on a new house. Typically we appraise new construction based on plans and specifications...prior to the home being built. Then, after construction is complete, we will make an inspection to ensure that the house was built exactly as outlined in the plans. The homeowner was walking around the house with me. (Don't get me started on homeowners making every step with me...that's another blog.) Most guys that have had an active part in building their house can tell you the dimensions of the walls...even if you don't want to hear it. I still measure the walls, though. I can't tell you how many times a guy has told me that a wall was "x" feet long...only to discover that it was "y". And usually, it's a little awkward when you tell the guy, "Thanks, but I'm still gonna measure it." You might as well say, "I don't believe you." or "You're an idiot." or "You couldn't pour soup out of a boot with instructions on the heel."

Sorry, I digressed...

At any rate, I was re-inspecting this guy's house for the final. We walked around to the left side of the house and he said, "That's 36 feet long." I told him that I still needed to measure. I hung the tape on the corner of the house and walked down to the other end. I examined my tape measure and gleefully told him, "Nope, it's 34." (You see when the homeowner makes a mistake, it's really fun to correct them. However, in this situation, my glee was short-lived.)

Homeowner: "No, it's 36."

Me: "Well, come over here and read my tape, because it says 34."

Homeowner: "Your tape is wrong."

Me: "It's brand new...it couldn't be." (Wow! What a come-back, right?)

I walked back to about the 20-foot line and started counting...with the homeowner. "20...25...30...31...32...33...36?!...35?!...34?!" My new tape measure had the "34" and the "36" interchanged. Fear rushed into my head..."How many houses have I measured incorrectly? Arghhhh!!!" I could barely finish the final inspection because anxiety was eating me up. As soon as I arrived at my office, I tried to look at sketches from every house I had measured in the previous two weeks. I couldn't find any 34-foot or 36-foot walls on any of them. So, I was relieved. I packaged up the tape measure and drove to Sears. Once inside, I griped out the guy in the tool department. I realize it wasn't his fault, but I had to vent. He laughed and said that somebody obviously screwed up. Duh?!? He offered me a replacement, but I would have to hand over the old one. I decided against it. I figured I may need the bad one as evidence should I ever be sued by anyone with a 36-foot long wall.

I've made plenty of other mistakes over the years. But those three always stick in my mind as being humorous. Someday, I'll show you a copy of the saying that my dad printed using his quote about mistakes. It's about a paragraph long and instructs us to be tolerant of each other because we're all human and make mistakes. It was printed on parchment paper by a local office supply company; and it was suitable for framing. Funny thing is the document has a mistake. The printer's typesetter misspelled one of the words and nobody caught it until 1000 of them had been printed. Oops!

The Alaskan Pipeline of Mistakes

Angie and John were shopping a couple of days before Christmas. Poor Angie had way too many things on her agenda. It all began with picking up John from the car dealership (his car needed some minor repairs), taking Meredith's cell phone to her at work (she forgot it at home), and then, off to do various shopping that she desperately needed to finish.

After picking up John, they decided they had a tiny window of opportunity to get some lunch. You see, John was supposed to be at work at 1:00 pm and it was noon. After dropping off Meredith's phone near the mall, they chose McAlister's Deli for lunch. Big mistake!

In McAlister's defense, it was noon...a few days before Christmas. Not exactly a down time for restaurants. But Angie was patient. Probably more patient than she should have been.

When Angie noticed people leaving with their orders...people who had ordered after Angie...she decided it was time to take action. As it turned out, they had already waited over 30 minutes for the order. When pressed for an estimated delivery time, the cashier didn't have an answer. So Angie asked for the manager. He apologized and quickly "found" their order. He earnestly tried to rescue the situation by comping the meal. Angie was satisfied with the gesture but was still behind the eight-ball on time. So, she and John grabbed their food and left.

She took John to work first. While sorting through the four (4) sandwiches, they noticed that none of the sandwiches were made correctly. Not even close. One sandwich, which was ordered "plain", had all the fixings. One ordered without mayo and tomato had an abundance of both items slathered into the mix. Zero for four...whiff...whiff...whiff...whiff!

So, the winner of the Wooden Spoon...drum roll...McAlister's Deli. The free sandwiches weren't enough to overcome the glaring incompetence. McAlister's brags that they have the "Alaskan Pipeline" of straws for their sweet teas. After this incident, I'd say the big sucking sound wasn't caused by the straw.

{I created the Wooden Spoon Awards for those who can't get it right. The idea came from the thought of whacking the offending party in the head with a wooden spoon. Fortunately, I realized that action would be illegal and unproductive. So, instead, I write and gripe about it. It's my right...I'm getting old!}

Grumpy?

Although you won't be able to tell on the attached video, I received a new camera for Christmas. The videos that it produces are full of vibrant colors and sharp contrasts. Unfortunately, my video editing software is still archaic. Therefore, you'll have to take my word for it...this was a nice looking video before I edited it.

I was playing with the video function on my new camera when Duke decided he'd had enough. Enough of me filming...enough of Meredith kissing him...enough of everything. I think he was tired and ready for bed. He can't speak plain English, but his moans spoke volumes.

Funky Buttloving

Do you remember the movie "Rookie of the Year"? You know, the one with the kid that breaks his arm but winds up being a pitcher for the Cubs? When the movie came out, John and Meredith were 8 and 7 respectfully. The perfect age to appreciate some of the humor in that movie. And yes, I loved the movie too.

One of our favorite parts was when Henry was getting his cast off and the doctor is moving Henry's arm. During the examination, you can hear Henry's arm getting tighter and tighter, similar to a rubber band stretching to its breaking point. Then...all of a sudden...the arm snaps and hits the doctor in the nose. And what does the good doctor say? "Funky buttloving!" We laughed out loud at the movies and we still laugh about it today. In fact, Meredith uses it in her normal day-to-day activities. Take for instance today. We were rearranging her room and she decided to have a "keeper" stack and a "trash" pile. I was helping to sort through the mess. My instructions were these...

Meredith: "If I say 'funky buttloving', put it in the 'keeper' stack. If I say 'sayonaro', put it in the trash pile."

Me: "yessum"

Meredith: (holding a pair of high-heeled shoes) "Funky buttloving!"

Me: (laughing) "I don't know how long I'm going to be able to do this."

I immediately took the shoes and put them in the 'keeper' stack. This went on for an hour or so. It was a tough job, but somebody had to do it. Please believe me when I tell you that she still has a ton of funky buttloving stuff in her room.

Miss Me?

I've started to blog over the past few days, but never officially pulled the trigger. It's not because I didn't have anything on my mind, because I have. I even wrote a Wooden Spoon Award about a local restaurant. I haven't published it though, because it seemed so negative during a time of year that we should all be celebrating. So, I'm holding off...for now.

Another reason I haven't written much is because I have had so much on my mind. Sometimes my brain gets so full of ideas that it's actually hard to stay focused on just one point while I'm writing. It's sort of like the little boy holding a couple of fingers in the dike...and then a bunch of other holes start forming. Sometimes, I don't have enough fingers to stop the flooding.

So, tonight, I just want to say I've missed you. I hope you missed The Cutting Edge during my hiatus. I hope that you enjoyed Christmas and remembered the real reason why we celebrate. I've run through the gauntlet of emotions during the past week. I've been happy and I've been sad. But mostly, I've been grateful.

And since, I'm not offering a family video or any photos tonight, I thought it would be best to offer you at least something. This little video made me smile. In fact, I think this guy could give Jim Carrey a run for his facial distortion money.

Chocolate-ty Doughnut-y Mess

Here we have John eating a typical nutritious breakfast with his mom. We took pleasure in watching how messy the kids could get with certain foods. I was wearing a suit, so I stayed away from John until he had been de-chocolated.

Poor Meredith is off on her own to play with a paper sack. Actually, I can't believe we have any video of her without tears. That girl cried for the first year of her life...non-stop. There were only three people who she would allow to hold her...Angie, Angie's mom, and my dad. Maybe it was the food we fed 'em...

Almost As Good

I offer this video from Mother's Day, 1987. My family had met at my parents' house for lunch to celebrate. You will get to meet my mother as she loves on toddler John. You'll meet one of my sisters, Judy, and her husband, Richard. Also, you'll see Judy's two boys, Addison and Taylor. Maggi, my niece, is in one brief shot, but her brother, Robert, can be seen throughout the video. You can't miss him because his mouth never stops. Also, you'll get to see my father, Harry. We all called him "Pa". My other sister, Kathy, and her husband, Bob, left as I began filming; and, therefore, I didn't get any shots of them.

I'm afraid you might get the feeling that you've entered the McCallisters' house. Remember, at the beginning of "Home Alone" when Joe Pesci is pretending to be a cop and he can't get anyone's attention because of all of the clamor. Welcome to our horde...grab a seat and hang on.

Towards the end, my father will look at the camera and say to me that it was "almost as good". He was referring to something that I cooked that day. My memory is at a loss for what the food was, but it was some dish that he had taught me how to cook. His comments were to let me know that the student was still not up to par with the teacher. Funny thing is I'm still chasing his legacy today.

Are You Teething Me?

In the fall of 1995, I recorded Meredith playing with Daniel on the living room floor. I don't think Meredith fully understood it at the time, but Daniel was teething. After this experience, she never wanted to be teethed again. John wanted in on the action, but Daniel was all teethed out after slobbering on his sister.

Take That! Oh Yeah, Well Take This!

There were two things you could always count on when John and Meredith were younger: 1) they were fighting, or 2) they were about to start a fight. If I'm lying, I'm dying. Those two kids fought everyday about something. Usually, the fights escalated into shoving matches, wrestling matches, or all-out brawls. On week days, I'd usually call Angie by mid-morning to see if they'd had a blood-letting yet.

Here's one episode in 1990. I don't know how or when it started. I do know...because I recorded it...that Meredith pinched John. For all I know, John could have pinched her first...I just didn't have the film rolling yet. Afterwards, though, John takes matters into his own hands. These two may be the reason I'll earn an early admittance into the insane asylum.

One other special note. The orange tabby cat that Meredith is holding belonged to the college guys across the street. (hmmm...I wonder if Angie had anything to do with that?) That crazy cat would let Meredith hold him upside down, by his tail, while riding on a tricycle...and never fussed. When the cat had had enough of Meredith, he'd jump down and take off running for cover. That was a cool cat.

I Love Grammar Girl

Grammar Girl is one of my favorite podcasts offered on iTunes. It is concise and offers sound advice on communicating. A few months ago, I subscribed to her "Tip of the Day". What a blessing this has been. Several times during the month of December, GG has provided insightful recommendations for grammar that you and I use everyday. I don't know about you, but I can use all the help I can get.

How 'Bout a Mud Pack Facial?

Yesterday, I told you about the dirt piles behind our house in Madison, MS. They were a great source of fun for John and Meredith. On this day, however, they were also a great source of pain...and humor.

I was trying to teach the kids how to jump across the crevices. When Angie came out to watch, she took the camcorder and began filming. Everything was going fine until I got involved in the jumping.

Meredith became the unfortunate victim of my enthusiasm. Then, after she received a mud pack facial, more humor ensued because we noticed that John couldn't spit to save his life. After watching this, you'll probably understand why my kids think I'm a knucklehead. Well, heck, I thought it was funny!

Christmas Song and Dance

If you watched yesterday's video, you saw the family hanging out in our backyard. Adjoining our backyard was a new part of the subdivision, which was in the early stages of being developed. The developer had placed several mounds of dirt on the vacant lot behind us and our kids thoroughly enjoyed playing in them.

The attached video has not one, but two interesting features. First, you will be entertained by Meredith singing a couple of Christmas songs...during the summer. Plus, you will get to witness some of John's best dance moves. At one point, I'll point the camera back at our house. You see, I was grilling some chicken and had to keep an eye on the grill during this whole process. Can you say "multitasking"?

Infatuation

Here we are on a lazy summer day in Mississippi. Watch as Angie keeps looking over her left shoulder. What you won't see are the three college guys who lived across the street from us. They were washing their cars.

Throughout our marriage, Angie and I have always picked with each other about being infatuated with someone within our immediate purview. On this day, it was the three strapping young men who she watched in a feeble attempt to agitate me. It didn't work...but it was funny.

Not by the Hair of My Chinny-Chin-Chin

I released this video yesterday on Facebook. I thought it would be fun to let John's buddies have an opportunity to razz him about it. So far, I haven't seen any fall-out from the video, though. Whether I like it or not, I'm still just an old goober and the kids don't always care what I have to say or offer. I'd be doing the same thing if I were their age.

One other point of interest that I didn't mention on Facebook. I found it entertaining that John keeps his left hand up the whole time he shaves. It was as if he was using his left hand to keep balanced. Well...all I have to say is this...I have to hand it to him, this is a funny video...hands down. (Sorry, had a pun in my head and had to get it out. You know if you let those things bounce around in your head all day, they can create all kinds of calamity.)

Excerpt from Facebook: This is a vintage movie of John's first attempt at shaving. Three things you need to know: 1) We didn't have enough money to buy him a play razor, so I left the safety cap on my real razor and let him use it. Good parenting skills, right? 2) Contrary to public opinion, shaving cream doesn't taste as good as it looks, and 3) John's mouth-tongue coordination has greatly improved with age...or least I've been told. By the way, Meredith makes a cameo appearance in this one.

Just A Glimpse

Thanks to my niece, Maggi, I will soon be able to take some of our old 8mm movies and turn them into digital jewels. Maggi, for those who don't know her, can run circles around me in computer literacy. She provided me with some hardware to make this magic happen.

This little 30-second video was my first try at the new concept of converting old films to digital media. There's nothing out of the ordinary on this snippet...just kids fighting and my wife trying to referee. Trust me, we've got some things that will make AFV jealous. Stay tuned for more...

And just in case you can't figure out the characters in this film...it's John and Meredith, circa 1988, at our home in Madison, Mississippi. Those were the days, my friend.

Calling (for snow in) Baton Rouge

Meredith called us at 6:30 this morning to let us know that it was snowing in B.R. One of her sorority sisters had awaken her with the news and, before you could say "Frosty, the Snowman", there were girls all over the yard playing in the snow.

Angie and I turned on the Weather Channel and noticed that the precipitation that brought Baton Rouge's snowfall had just missed us. It looked like Columbia and Winnsboro had some flurries though. Luck-eeeee

Oh well. I've never had a "white" Christmas in my lifetime. There's no reason to believe I'm going to get one this year. =(

Simply Put

Hot Chocolate

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I Subsidize This Behavior

After a difficult night of studying for finals, Meredith discovered a new way to amuse herself and unwind. All I can say is thank goodness I've sent all that money down to Baton Rouge for her education. I feel redeemed.

Meredith, in her own words, stated this way, "After 4 years of finals, I have found the most efficient way to study."



Just in case you can't tell what she's doing, she's opened up a dictionary website and clicked on the word "poop". Like I said, I subsidize this behavior. /shakes head/

Also, for the record, I am referencing John and Daniel in this article. You know, I don't want anyone to get their panties in a wad for not being mentioned in my blog.


John standing next to Old Glory


Daniel looking at one of his hand-made
ornaments from years ago

Takes a Licking, Keeps On Ticking...NOT

I told you a couple of weeks ago that I was going to start posting some Wooden/Golden Spoon Awards. I truthfully have not been offended much lately...PTL...so, I haven't had any wooden spoons to hand out.

Well, that changed at the end of last week. During my run Friday, something went haywire on my Timex watch. It was keeping time okay, but the Indiglo light feature has been on the blink for a couple of months. But when I hit the one-mile mark during the run, I pressed the button that records the lap time and the watch's display went blank. I didn't think much about it at the time because I was out of breath and cold. I figured the batteries were getting low and the 30-degree temperatures weren't helping it.

When I got to the two-mile mark, I pressed the lap button again and the same thing happened. After about 10 seconds, though, the displayed showed back up. I kept running and finally made to the 2.7 finish line. I pressed the lap button to end my run and the watch completely went berserk. No display...no response...nothing! I told Angie, who was by my side, to keep track of the times because my watch had fritzed out.

Saturday I had some shopping to do at Wal Mart. I took the watch to the jewelry counter and asked the associate if she could replace the batteries. She affirmed that she could and asked me to give her a few minutes. After about thirty minutes, I went back to pick up the watch. The lady asked me, "Do you know how to set the time?"

"Yeah. Y'all don't know how to set the time on these Timex watches? Y'all sell a ton of them."

"We've all tried, but your watch is acting funny."

I took the watch from her and pressed on the "Set" button. Nothing. But then...all of a sudden...the watch started going through a loop...describing all of its functions. I tried again and again, but to no avail. Two of the associates had gathered near me now, looking at the watch. One of them said, "We've all tried. I think that watch is broken." There were four ladies working the jewelry counter. So, take all four of them and me, that's five people that can't make this goofy watch work. I asked them to take the new batteries out and I brought the watch back home. Funeral arrangements have not been made yet, but expect them early this week.

That brings me to this: The Wooden Spoon Award goes to my Timex watch that didn't last 1.5 years. When I was a kid, Timex had an advertising campaign boasting how durable their watches were. "Takes a licking and keeps on ticking" was the slogan. Uh...I think they forgot to program their new watches with the slogan.

The Golden Spoon goes to the ladies at the jewelry counter at Wal Mart. Rarely do I recieve this much help at Wally World. These ladies were pleasant and earnestly tried to do all they could to get my watch up and running.

Again, my Timex...RIP. If I have anything to do with it, it's going to rest in pieces.

Move Over, Rover

I didn't think anything could take the place of tennis balls for Duke. I mean, the dog has some serious OCD issues with the yellow felt balls. But last night, I decided to start putting up some Christmas displays in my yard. Duke came out to help. I felt sorry for him because he sat motionless for 10 minutes waiting for me to throw a ball to him. It was cold and I didn't feel like starting a tennis ball game with him. But it just so happens that a soccer ball was sitting in the yard next to my porch. On one of my trips to run the extension cord, I kicked the ball to Duke...just to see what he'd do. Much to my delight, he stopped it, found a way to pick it up, and brought it back to me. I was so amazed that I went inside and got my camera. However, it was too dark to film. So, today, I took him out again to see if he remembered how to play soccer. And, yes, he did! Move over, Rover, there's a new goalie in town.

Pardon Me, Is That a Dog in Your Lap?

Angie was putting the finishing touches on one of her school projects yesterday. Because of my proficiency with PowerPoint and Word, I was enlisted to help.

While we were working on the paper, Duke decided it was time to get involved. No, I don't think he wanted to help us write anything. I think he was trying to encourage one of us to throw tennis balls to him. He's actually become very emphatic with his requests lately. In fact, I'd say he no longer asks for attention, he demands it.

Roll the tape and see for yourself.

One Man's Junk...

About a month ago, Angie and I went to some garage sales. This is one of Angie's favorite things to do on Saturday mornings. Rarely do we find anything earth-shattering; but, on occasion, we do find a few jewels in the rough.

Today I remembered one of our "finds". While shopping at a home in River Oaks, I ran across a bunch of cd's that a gentleman was selling for $1.00 each. I thumbed through his collection and found a jazz recording by Pete Fountain. My dad loved to listen to Pete play his "licorice stick", aka, clarinet. Well, I snatched the cd and was perfectly content with my selection.



The homeowner saw that I had looked through the cd's and realized I had selected only one. He walked over to me and whispered, "If you see anymore cd's in that collection, just take 'em. They're yours if you want them." I nodded and smiled, but I was happy with what I had. I walked over to another set of items he had for sale. But I guess greed started eating at me. Before I knew it, I was in front of the music collection again. I was thumbing through them when the homeowner walked over and said, "I tell you what, you take all those cd's if you want them. The whole kit and kaboodle."



Again, I acknowledged his gracious offer, but there were about 30 or 40 cd's in the box. I didn't feel right about taking them all. So, I countered back, "How much for these 4 cds?" He smiled and said, "One dollar." I handed him a dollar and as I turned to walk away, he reached out and handed me another cd.

As I said earlier, one of those "finds" came to mind today. So I scrolled through my iPod and started playing the first song. The cd is "Now That's What I Call Christmas! 3" It's a 2-disk set. Disk 1 is slap full of the traditional songs that we're all familiar with. You know 'em, you love 'em...Nat King Cole, Bing Crosby, Elvis, Burl Ives, Frank Sinatra, Brenda Lee...just to name a few. Take my word for it, they're all good. Disk 2 is more contemporary in nature with artists like Springsteen, Mannheim Steamroller, Band Aid, and Celine Dion. I have to admit that the producers dropped the ball on Disk 2, though. There are a few songs that I've never heard before...and after today's virgin listening voyage...I probably won't be eager to hear them again. C'mon...Britney Spears, The Big Yard Family, Joe?!? Singing Christmas music?!? Not on my iPod! Thanks, but no thanks. This is where the "check/uncheck" button on iTunes becomes extremely useful.



I'm goofy like this...but when I got home, I calculated how much I paid for that cd. I received 5 cd's that day for $1.00. Therefore, each cd cost me 20 cents. The 2-disk Christmas cd had 36 songs. 20 cents divided by 36 songs equals $0.0056 per song. Not bad...not bad at all. Even if there are five or six songs that make me feel like a grinch.

Well, gotta git. I gotta uncheck some song on my iTunes. /singing/ "Oh, the weather outside is frightful..."

Objects In The Mirror May Be Smaller Than They Appear

{This is my sixth submission in a series on the financial crisis here in America. I want this to be an honest account of why we are where we are based on my tiny perspective of the mortgage/housing debacle.}

It never fails. It's human nature, I guess. But if you tell people the heated square feet and the total square feet of their house, usually the only number they will remember is the total square feet. Why? Because it's bigger. People hear what they want to hear...and most folks want to know the biggest number when you're talking about their largest investment.

Now this is not an issue that has created any dilemmas with the mortgage crisis, but it does give me a chance to usher in one of the reasons why we're in this mess. Everybody wants more. Now let me explain.

If three different appraisers were to go out and inspect a house for an appraisal, chances are they would all have different opinions of value. Hopefully, if they do their job right, they should come up with values that are within 5% (+/-) of each other, especially if it's a conforming property - one that is like others in the immediate area. Now this situation doesn't happen often because usually one appraiser is hired to do an appraisal, not two or three. But sometimes, over the course of three or four years, a borrower may go to a lender for three different purposes and the house could be used as collateral in each situation. Therefore, it's not uncommon for me to go behind (or before) other appraisers on the same house.

If Appraisers X, Y, and Z all do the same house, guess which value the homeowner is going to remember? The highest one. Like I said, it's human nature. So let's say for the sake of this argument that Appraisers X and Y had values of $100,000 and $103,000 respectively; and Appraiser Z had a value of $120,000. The homeowner will be happy to tell you that X and Y are stupid and used inferior comparable sales. But Z is the coolest cat on earth. Well, at least until Appraiser Q comes and gives him a bogus $130,000 value. Are you starting to see the cycle we're getting into?

Now here's a real life situation. I appraised a house years ago that was a single-story dwelling with a double carport. Attached to the carport, but not to the house, was a game room. The owners had enclosed a large storage room, installed indoor/outdoor carpet in it, and installed a window unit for cooling during the summer. I thought it was a nice amenity. For crying out loud, they had an in-ground pool too. So the game room was a perfect place for the kids to come in from swimming and horse around without being in the house. The problem is one of the veteran appraisers had appraised it about a year before me and he counted the game room as part of the Gross Living Area. The GLA is the actual heated square feet of the dwelling...not any exterior amenities. I could bore you with the actual FNMA and ANSI rules, but I won't. Take my word for it, I've looked them up. But what do you think the homeowner thought of me when I told him that his house didn't have 2500 heated square feet, but only 2200. The guy told me I was stupid. He told me that I didn't know how to appraise...that I needed to go back to school. Funny thing was I was the guy who had read the textbook.

You can't help but feel a little dismayed when something like this happens. It especially hurts when you know that you're trying to do the right thing...when you're trying to play by the rules. It kills me that there are still a lot of appraisers that either (1) don't know the ANSI guidelines, or (2) don't care to know. I've explained it to my kids this way: a man who does not read is no better off than the man who cannot read.

I've got one other real-life case I have to tell you about. It happened about a year ago. I still laugh about this one because one of my best friends did an appraisal on the house a few months before I did. The house was a 40-yr-old brick home in a good area. As I was walking through the home with the owner, he explained that it had been appraised twice within the past couple of years. He said something to this effect:

Homeowner: "Now, I want you to know, that I've had two appraisals done on this house. One appraiser was good, but the other guy didn't know how to appraise. He tried to tell me that this was a two-bedroom house and I've got three bedrooms."

Me: "Really? Well, let me draw the floor plan and we'll see what I think."

I walk through the social areas of the house (living room, kitchen, dinette), and then go into one bedroom, and then another.

Homeowner (pointing to a door located in the living room): "Behind that door is a bathroom and another bedroom. That's where that dumb-@ss appraiser didn't know what a bedroom was."

I open the door, and I'm standing in a bathroom...standard in size...enough room for a tub, a toilet, and a sink. I'm thinking, "Where's the bedroom?" I turn to my left and there's a door...one that typically would open up to a towel closet. I open the door...and look into a closet...with a twin bed in it. Don't get me wrong, it wasn't a standard size closet, it was a walk-in closet. But the width was five feet. The twin bed barely fit into it. ANSI guidelines state that a bedroom has to contain at least 90 square feet (trust me, that's small) but this room had 60 square feet...tops. I actually had to bite my tongue and keep from laughing. This homeowner had an idiot tell him this was a bedroom...and he held on to that as the truth. My friend had the courage to tell him that it wasn't a bedroom. For his actions, he was labeled a dumb-@ss. I called my buddy after I left the house and we had a good long laugh about it. He and I were like X and Y above...our values were within 5% of each other. The rocket scientist that told the guy he had a 3-bedroom house, was about $30,000 away from us.

It never fails. I run into these situations all the time. Early in my career, I was apprehensive about telling people the truth. Not any more. I know human nature will cause people to believe things that are not true...only because they want to believe it. My dad drove home the point about being honest by saying it this way: "Pard, some dogs will howl at the moon just because it shines. And what does the moon do? It keeps on shining."

Johnny On The Spot

There was trouble in Markyland the other night. Yeppers, all the kids were present when a debate began about which one of the kids gets more recognition on my blog. Deeply offended that I might have slighted one of my chillun, I attempted to put out the fire, so to speak, by reassuring them that each one of them receives equal time on The Cutting Edge.

John was steadfast in his belief that "she, who shall not be named," received more spotlight than he did. So, I jumped on the computer and used the handy-dandy "Search" button on the blog. I typed in each kid's name...one by one...and searched for articles. (By the way, The Cutting Edge will be celebrating one year of boilerplate, vanilla, white bread, plain-jane infotainment in January. You can only imagine how many posts I would have had to peruse.) Well, the initial search revealed at least 20 blogs with a reference to each of the children. There may have been more, but proving that they were equally in at least 20 calmed the storm that was brewing. But then, "she who shall not be named" said that one of the 20 blogs that returned a positive hit for "John" wasn't a blog about John at all. I had referenced a Biblical scripture from the Book of John. So, much was made about John having only 19 and "she who shall not be named" had 20.

I explained to John that I would remedy the situation ASAP. I started taking photos and filming him that night. He didn't respond well to the new-found attention. He acted as if I was standing on his last good nerve. I guess the price of fame takes too much out of the mental pocketbook. Oh well.

So heeeeeeeeeeeeerrrrrrrrrreeeeeee's Johnny!

Relative To What?

There's nothing like your loved ones bringing you back down to earth. You know, when you're floating...or would that be "gloating"...around in your own imaginary grandeur. It happened to me this weekend and I thought I'd let you have a laugh at my expense.

At Michael's and Stephanie's wedding, I saw one of my favorite couples, namely, Tony and Kim. I was fortunate to be in the same cast with Tony in my stage debut. Tony is now, and was then, a veteran of the theater. So I listened to what he said. I wanted to learn from him.



Tony and I have been able to do a couple of other plays since that first one. And lately, he's been very complimentary of my acting. He has said more than once that I am "the Tom Hanks of the Strauss." Now, I know Tony doesn't really mean to put me in the same class with Tom Hanks, but that compliment makes my day every time I hear it. Mikey happened to be on hand the other night when Tony said it. Mikey saw a comic moment and pounced on it. He immediately chimed in, "More like the Kevin Costner of the Strauss".



Guys...I laughed out loud. That was flat-out funny! But the humor wasn't over yet. When I arrived home later that night, I told my family about Tony's and Mikey's comments. The whole family laughed. But Angie...well, let's just say she disagreed with Mikey. She said, "Kevin Costner?!? No, it's more like the Rick Moranis of the Strauss".



Ten thousand comedians out of work...

Well, the laugh is on them because I figured out why they said what they said. Obviously, Mikey thinks Kevin Costner is a great actor. I mean, c'mon...the guy was nominated for Best Actor in a Leading Role. (Dances With Wolves, 1991. By the way, he won Best Director for that movie.) And Angie has always been a sucker for funny guys. Rick Moranis won an American Comedy Award for Funniest Supporting Actor in a Motion Picture (Parenthood, 1990). So, there you have it.

If you ask me if I'm a good actor, I'm going to say, "Yes...relative to whomever is your favorite, award-winning actor".