What is a true eclectic to do when her passions lead her in different directions?
This is a blog for the unfocused, the round pegs in the square holes, the short-attention span types, and all those who just can't bring themselves to join the ranks and adhere to a single category of activities or interests...whether sketches, drawings and comics, fixing an old farmhouse in Oregon, or whatever else strikes my fancy.

Thursday, August 20, 2009

Haiku: The Seller's Lament (08-20-09)

A poem by Pascale Steig

My house on Woodward
is lovely and for sale now.
Great neighbors. Much space.

Three bedrooms, two baths,
The best kitchen in the world:
A gourmet’s retreat.

Time passes, so slow.
The house sits immutable,
while my hair turns gray.

Fickle buyers, all.
Only complaints: too spacious;
the tree...too much shade.

Complaints, excuses:
No lawn, no fence, tree too tall,
house and rooms too big.

What about agents?
Large or small, from the same mold:
"Make it bargain cheap!"

"Price low! Give it up!"
But one thing is sacred, one:
The commission, always high.

"Sell my house," I say
to all agents who come by.
No results. Nothing.

Monday, August 10, 2009

Victorian House in Verviers (ca. 11-08)

For all the talk about houses, as this pretty much the focus of my new blog, I want to include a few photos of my absolute Best of Best, the ultimate reference of what I am looking for in a house: high style, and a moody personality, or, as my daughter Valérie would say, "gloomy, slightly impressive."
But there is no such thing on the West Coast...and if there ever was, it would be in a place like rotten part of Los Angeles or San Francisco, would have been abandoned, condemned and/or demolished...
This gem of a Victorian house is in my hometown in Belgium. Like the setting for a 19th century dark novel, it is precariously
set high on the side of a hill and accessed by a narrow dead-end cobblestone path bordered by the river; a tall spiked cast-iron fence secludes it from intruders. But the modern world has encroached: the freeway runs right over the top of the house.

The house's name is Béribou.