The Recession Hits Agoura Hills

It’s all your fault, oak paneling. You’re on notice.

Disclaimer:  I have no idea if the recession really “hit” Agoura Hills, technically.  I usually avoid learning hard facts about economics and politics too, really.  I go by my gut instinct and the things I see happening around me.  Also, my only regional news comes from the Acorn, which has a delightfully narrow focus.

About 18 months ago, when Agoura Hills Dad and I were house shopping in Woodland Hills, Agoura Hills, and Thousand Oaks, it was clear that there was no recession in Agoura Hills.  Houses were snatched up for cash right out from under us no matter what crumbling, garishly-colored condition they were in.  We wound up stretching our purchasing budget to the absolute limit to get into the neighborhood we eventually moved to.

Knock on wood, everything is going well so far.  My husband and I work hard to keep it afloat, and now that the markets and all the people in charge have helped make the economy suck for most people, we have taken advantage of the lower mortgage rates and applied to refinance into a shorter loan period.  So naturally, we had to have the house appraised again.

Despite the doomsday reports on 24 hour news, despite all signs from the zeitgeist that this would be true, I was absolutely shocked when the appraisal report came in today.  According to this particular appraiser, the value is $40K less than our purchase price.

I’m taking the news personally.  Did I not clean the house well enough before the appraiser came over?  Did he dislike the new Zen garden AHD made in the front yard?  I knew I should have painted over that crappy oak paneling already.  I knew we should have called a tree doctor to save the ailing birch tree on the side of the house.

Also, I knew that zillow.com is a loose forecaster of a home’s true market value.  I learned that lesson back when we found this house in the first place.  In my brain I know that most of the appraisal is based on square footage and comps, but my heart suspects that if I had just taken the extra step of moving the clean laundry basket from the kitchen to the bedroom…

All is not lost, of course.  In the last year and a half I have learned a lot about home loans and how they are done.  If your loan’s amount is below a certain percentage of the market value, you’re in a good position.  We’re fine.  But I’m personally offended by this $40K hit against our house’s self-esteem.  I want to pet it and say “it’s not your fault that someone went crazy with cheap oak paneling and nobody has come along to save you.  Yet.”

And so of course the day after the appraisal visit?  I started prepping those nasty walls for some refreshing white paint.  Stay tuned.

Day of the Horse

Sometimes, out here in the Conejo Valley, it feels like we are a world away from Los Angeles.  On this day in September, there was a storm moving through the area, so a trip to horse country coupled with dark clouds rolling over the sky made that faraway feeling even more pronounced.

I had read about Day of the Horse in the local paper.  Kid 2 loves horses.  That is, he likes to look at them from afar.  Given the chance to get up close and touch one, he wound up hiding under Agoura Hills Dad’s t-shirt.

This event, held at the Conejo Creek Equestrian Park which is run by the county, was a showcase of the many groups that give horse lovers a chance to indulge in their hobby, sport, or calling.  There were equestrian demonstrations, a belly dancing show (?), pizza sold by the slice, horse-related vendors, and several little ponies.  Even one wearing sparkly pink sneakers.

When the sky darkened and some drops of rain fell, the weather stole the thunder from the horses for a little while.  People were abuzz with reports that hail was coming down nearby, and others joked that being outside under the trees wasn’t such a great place to be hanging out in a thunderstorm.  But the rain never got heavy, and the thunder and lightning passed us by.  Before too long it grew sunny and hot again, lucky for the organizers and stars of the event.

Here is a photo album from the day.  If you’re interested in horses, you don’t have to go farther than Thousand Oaks to get in the saddle.

Day of the Horse

Small Town Whining

If you read my other blog, House of Prince, you may have noticed that over the last few months I have been trying to become a better person.  That is quite a large project.  I suppose I can call it Project:  Become a Better Person, but it’s not something I simply decided to launch.  It’s just an over-arching thing I try to do all the time, and lately I’ve been thinking about it much more and mentioning it in my writing more often.

Anyway.  Part of this project is that I am trying to complain less.  If there is something to complain about, surely there is a way to make that thing better or make it go away, so why not try to fix the situation or make myself at peace with it rather than spend time complaining about it?  After all, there is so little time in the day as it is!

Part of every Monday through Friday, for me, is spent walking along a particular stretch of Reyes Adobe where there are no homes that face the street.  It was once a beautiful, centering experience (at least when I’m walking alone) but for the past few months I have been unable to ignore the growing collection of poo, garbage, and dead weeds piling up all along that stretch.  Just this morning there was a freshly shattered porcelain coffee mug lying in pieces all over the sidewalk where children walk or rides their scooters or bikes.

I finally started actively noticing this mess and wondering when someone was going to clean it up a few weeks ago, and kept meaning to find out whom to alert, but I put it off and forgot about it (every day) until the porcelain mug fragments put me over the edge.  What’s more, I saw a small (and poorly done if you ask me) graffiti tag scrawled low on a retaining wall.  It was tentative, as if it was created by a good kid who was toeing the line between naughty and nice, and didn’t really mean it.  Nevertheless, that kid was stupid.  Nothing makes my blood boil the way graffiti does.

Before we moved out of Los Angeles I would have had to hunt around and be transferred to multiple city agencies before finding someone to address the cleanup.  But here in the Agoura Hills bubble, a few clicks of the mouse and I found an email address and three direct phone lines to city officials.  Certainly their public maintenance schedule can’t be as backed up as the city of LA’s.  Of course, they are all out of the office already, taking early Memorial Day vacations.  You can bet I’ll follow up with them next week.

I read The Acorn’s weekly letters from residents with amusement.  Some of the things people write in to complain about seem so insignificant in the bigger picture.  While here we worry about cars speeding along a road, people in parts of LA worry about drive-by shootings.  As such, the poop along Reyes Adobe really isn’t that bad.  But that is why we moved here.  Less graffiti, more free parking.  And without gang-related violence weighing down my thoughts on a daily basis, I can focus more on doing good outside our bubble.  (If you want to help me do that, please click here to donate money to Help a Mother Out, a diaper donation charity that gets diapers to families who cannot afford them for their babies.  Thank you.)