radioessay

The Benevolent Wife
Blue Water Sailing and Public Radio

excerpt
When the National Guard summoned my husband to a port
town, I made him promise not to buy a boat. For a litany of
reasons the timing was poor: our children are very small, our
budget too stretched but mostly it was safety concerns. I
reminded Jason that just because he reads sailing magazines
and took that lesson two years ago didn’t mean he was ready to
own a boat on Lake Superior.

“Remember, Honey, how you took the boom in the face?” I
reminded him. “And you chipped your front tooth… and nearly
fell in the water?” It wasn’t the prospect of cosmetic dentistry that
alarmed me; I just didn’t want us to end up in a Gordon Lightfoot
song...

Your Exposed Life
"In the Loop"
Minnesota Public Radio

Throw my name into Google and you’d believe I’m an authority
on home, yard and garden care. See - I’m a freelance writer
and I wrote this story called “First Aid for your Lawn, Remedies
for your Hurtin’ Turf.” Then -it snowballed. Magazines that
previously wouldn’t reply to my story ideas were now phoning
me. And before I knew it, I’m writing a trail of do-it-yourself
articles for a national magazine. 1.2 million readers are
learning how to bend rebar into a garden trellis, build a closet
organizer out of a sheet and half of oak veneer plywood and
throw that perfect corn roast – from me.

Online I come off as some great Fix-it guru with the flair of
Martha Stewart, but I prefer to think myself more a Carrie
Bradshaw ala Sex in the City. We’re both wavy hair writers,
have predominant noses and write about ballcocks and
screws – though I’m plainly more PBS, less HBO.

“Buyers are NOT the Enemy, Buyers are NOT the Enemy…,” this
is my new mantra.

My home has been on the market a few weeks now and I’m
getting to that disenchanted point that sellers get to. It’s where
staging the house for the 30th showing lacks the appeal that it
did for the 3rd. You start out baking cookies for each one, then
stuffing cinnamon bread into a toaster ’til around the 22nd
showing when you leave your deodorant open on the counter
and call it good.

While I wouldn’t classify it as seller’s fatigue just yet, the bloom is
off the rose.

My first few days on the market I happily stuffed my brochure box
with spendy color fliers. At the rate they flew out, I might as well
been shoving Andrew Jacksons in there. 140 fliers later, I let it go
empty for a few days - you know, to punish the brochure box.
Right before my husband left for his out of town job this week, he
printed out some black and white versions. He sensed I had
stopped playing Stepford Seller Wife.

Honestly, I would have thought I was above taking the liquidation
of my largest asset so personally - I mean, at the end of the day
this is a business transaction, right? Well, turns out I’m no better
than the rest of ‘em.

That a parade of people have come through my house and not
SEEN the love and effort we’ve poured into it - well, kinda hurts.
Their anonymous comments have been taramount to “Ya missed
a spot!” and it makes you just want to grab them by the
shoulders and shake. Note: Never never shake a buyer.