At last our temps are back on the rise, and happy for it, as I really don’t enjoy being dressed in a fashion befitting a colder clime, and especially when it’s only being a few days from the first of May. Once it does warm up for good, you can bet I’ll be enjoying our great outdoors even more this year.

The first little chore on my list this morning, was to go out and place a sold sign on another one of my recent sales. Many agents throw them up nearly as soon as their purchase agreements have been signed, but I’d much rather wait until all contingencies are met before placing one for all to see. It’s not that I’m superstitious, but rather being one not wanting to jump the gun, and then later having to embarrassingly remove them.

Around mid-morning, I went over to St. Paul Lutheran and practiced the hymns they’d chosen for this coming Sunday. As chance would have it, three of their four choices, were ones I’d never played before, so what I thought would be a quick in and out, ended up being well over and hour. I’m still not comfortable with one of those unfamiliar pieces which happened to be in an A-flat major key. Having always shied away from the multiple flat and sharp key signatures, I’m truly coming more up to speed in playing them, now that I’m being put to the test on a regular basis.

Pastor Matt just happened to be in his office, so on my way out, I stopped and had a soulful chat with him. Today’s subject centered around the tribalism we nearly always find in churches, and especially the larger congregations. I spoke of one in particular which has an inner-circle of people who’re not actively working to keep their flock from falling away, and in some cases, I’m convinced they’re helping their migrations along. But you see, when tribalism is so intense, there’s no commonality in those communities of faith, as you’re either on the “insides”, or on the peripheries. Anytime I hear or read something about a given congregation being “all inclusive”, I internally pose the question, “Are you really?” Oh the stories we could all tell about the favoritism and injustices that go on within such religious communities.

By the time I left, it was nearing the hour of noon, so I headed out to a groceteria and purchased a few needs, and then stopped at a drive-thru and ordered a small sandwich. Upon return to office, I doctored it up a little more with condiments I had at office which made for a small, yet tasty lunch.

One of my out of State buyers wanted me to go out and do a preview of a home listed by another office, so I called the agent to get permission to do my walk-thru. The moment I walked into that house, I immediately knew why it hadn’t yet sold. The smell of animal was overpowering, and whomever lived there before moving out, had multiple brainstorms which were started, but never finished. Oh, if you only knew how much I hate walking thru homes like that, as I swear such massive disfunction, somehow manages to suck me nearly-dry of the energy I had before entering. Too creepy.

When I returned to office, I placed a call to the buyer and insisted he call his friend who lives here, and then have him contact me so I could open it up for his opinion. Well, he couldn’t find his number, so I proceeded to go digging. Fortunately I did find it and called him, so back out I went late this afternoon for another “energy-letting”. His friend was of a similar opinion as mine, which was it being a solid home, but in a great need of multiple repairs and a very deep cleaning. Since I didn’t want to get involved in the decision-making process, I encouraged his friend to give my buyer a call and report his findings. The very few times I’ve been involved with someone buying sight-unseen, I’m all the more careful about making any sort of judgement calls, with my walking away, and leaving their family members and/or friends to give guidance.

As I was driving out of my parking spot at the back of my office, a woman I’ve known whom I’d sold a home to a number of years ago, just happened to be walking down the alley, so I stopped and had a nice visit with her. Having known she’s from one of the old Czech families from Northeast Iowa, I mentioned that kolaches recipe I found which called for a package of vanilla pudding mix. A lightbulb must’ve gone off when she quickly replied, “Hey you know what, that pudding probably makes the dough more soft.” It’s funny, because that’s exactly what I thought. Before we finished, she more than once insisted I email her that recipe, which I’ll be doing in the morning.

We had three showings scheduled today for my new listing over at 619 – 3rd St. SE, and another one tomorrow. I’m hoping the interest is great, and if we don’t have an offer on it tomorrow, I’m going to ask the seller if it would be OK to host a public open house on it this coming Saturday afternoon. It’s been many weeks since I’ve hosted an open house, so perhaps I’ll be having one and possibly selling it myself. What better way to bring home the bacon as you see in tonight’s photo. Having both sides of a transaction is always more rewarding.

When I went looking for that kolaches recipe in my vintage cookbook, I found another one which I thought interesting. On rare occasions my mother would make cornbread, but not like the following, which looked interesting enough to try. After reading the ingredients, I’d say the calorie-count would be low, along with being stylishly glutin-free.

Wallace Corn Bread

  • 1 egg slightly beaten
  • 1 1/2 teaspoons salt
  • 1 1/2 teaspoons baking soda
  • 1 3/4 cups buttermilk
  • 1 1/2 cups cornmeal, yellow or white

Preheat a greased 8-inch cast-iron skillet at 475 degrees. Stir egg with salt. Add baking soda. Add buttermilk. Mix well. Add cornmeal. Mix well. Pour corn bread into hot skillet. Bake at 475 degrees for 20 minutes until top is lightly browned. Immediately turn out of skillet. Note: It’s very important the skillet be hot and well-greased before pouring. A cast-iron corn-stick pan may be used. This recipe will make 16 corn-sticks.

Tonight’s One-liner is: Nothing is more exhilarating than listening to philistine vulgarity.

Joe Chodur

About the Author | Joe Chodur

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