Elizabeth Weintraub • Sacramento Short Sale Agent • Land Park

When you're tired of romantic moonlight dinners on the ocean, try Merriman's Cafe at King's Shops in Waikola. Because instead of dancing barefoot in the sand to some Hawaiian crooner, you can walk around the shops to admire outrageously expensive trinkets. We stopped at Coach bags so I could stroke its new winter line of red patent leather. I had the clerks in the store doubled over in laughter as I described to them the new trends I see coming down the line.

Except I wasn't really kidding. Amusing as it may sound. Trendspotting. I'm pretty good at it. The newest thing in women's bags will be a bag in which almost everything can be attached to the exterior, not the interior. Tired of digging for your cell phone? See, it should easily attach to an exterior pocket. Ditto with the display key for a lockbox -- agents will love this. A loop for your sunglasses. A hook for your car keys. The only thing you need a pocket for is a tampon.

That will be the future of bags. Because companies need to keep selling them. And someday, I predict the coveted symbol of a woman's fertility will be reflected in a gold-plated bracelet adorned with dangling miniature tampons.

However, if you prefer to go back in history, take a look at these petroglyphs at Puako on the Big Island. We've got Steve Martin's Walk Like an Egyptian. A guy throwing a baby. Guy holding huge butcher knife over his head. These date back 1,000 years or more. Nobody knows for certain why they were carved into lava or even what they depict. These petroglyphs at Puako feature Mauna Kea as backdrop.

Photos: Elizabeth Weintraub

I couldn't get my purple shorts on. That was an astounding discovery to make only halfway through our Hawaiian vacation. I tried them on before we left home and they fit. It's not so much that I couldn't get them on exactly as I could not fasten them. There is one sure cure for that. Fewer desserts. More salads.

Besides, some of the desserts are not worth all of the calories. When a server asked me how I liked the apple pie concoction, I told her the truth: You know those apple pies they sell at McDonald's? The kind that are deep-fried, devoid of nutritional value, little fat bombs served in a sleeve? She nodded yes, and a smile spread across her face.

Well, this apple pie was worse than that!

Call me cynical, but I imagine that was a mistake. Because now she'll go running to her boss and proudly announce that they need to make apple pies like those served at McDonald's.

Rather than gripe about fattening desserts that disappoint, I decided it made sense to take up an activity. To learn a new sport. You're never too old to learn something new. In fact, yesterday marked the 6-month countdown to age 60 for me. Paddleboarding looked like a lot of fun. The stand-up padde surfing kind of paddleboading. We signed up for lessons.

First, carrying the board to the beach required a bit of maneuvering. Oooo, look at me carting along this surfboard with one hand like an old pro -- do, do, do, do -- until oopsie daisy, a smidgen of wind caused me to go sideways. I almost bashed a 4-year-old in the head. Man, people were everywhere on the beach. Trying not to smack one of 'em with a board was really difficult.

Once I got it to the shoreline and dropped it on the water, I leaped on it. Grabbed my pole and started to paddle. Except I didn't go anywhere. Didn't move an inch. That's because my rudder was sunk in the sand. After I got moving, I got stuck on the rocks. Pace was paramount, my instructor said, keep paddling before standing up. With my ankle strapped to the board, I struggled to stand. My knees wobbled. My feet felt unsteady -- I heard my instructor yelling: bend your knees.

I plopped back down on the board and paddled my way out of the beach toward the open water. Too many people. Well, I did runover one person who, unfortunately, had a broken leg, so it was like running over 2 people. Of all the snorkelers, I had to pick the one with the broken leg. She was pretty grumpy about it, too.

I tried to stand up again. It was a struggle. I sat down again. Screw this. I was feeling the wave of failure come over me. It was frustrating. Maybe this was one of those things that I just cannot do. Like water ski. I gave up trying to water ski when the skis came off, slapped my legs and bruised me up pretty badly in my teenage years.

Then, I don't know what happened exactly. It was a beautiful day, in the low 80s, high 70s, with relatively calm aqua waters and little wind. Stand-up paddleboarding was a sport I really wanted to learn. North Kona, Hawaii, is the perfect place to do it. Why was I giving in so easily and about to call it quits? I am not a person who is easily defeated, least of all by myself. After all, I am a Sacramento short sale agent -- I triumph over some of the most difficult real estate transactions on the face of the Earth.  I can do anything I set my mind to do.

To my astonishment, I stood up, paddled and voila! Found my center of gravity. It arrived out of nowhere, just as I was about to give up. It really is true that each failed attempt puts me one step close to success. Soon, I was buzzing all over the ocean, riding over small waves, moving in unison with the board. I wouldn't say I went so far as to dance, but I put on a presentable performance. For my husband, anyway. Who was back on shore, sitting in the surf with his board. Stand-up paddleboarding was evidently not for him.

I like this sport so much that I might have to buy a rack for my roadster. I don't think a paddleboard will easily fit in the front seat, even with the top down. Stand-up paddleboarding is really a lot of fun!

The moral of this story is if there is something you want to do, go do it. Don't let failure set you back. Maybe that short sale negotiator rejected your short sale. Don't put your tail between your legs and go home. Try again. Analyze what went wrong and fix it. Resubmit. Because your second time or third time could be a charm.

I just closed a short sale yesterday for a seller whose previous short sale fell apart. It fell apart because there was no permit for the family room and the FHA-approved lender would not approve the buyer's loan. We tried for a long time to find an all-cash buyer until a VA buyer came along. We got the property preapproved by the underwriter prior to offer acceptance, and this transaction closed.

Oh, and one more thing: if you're gonna eat a dessert, make sure it is worth the extra calories.

Photo: Elizabeth Weintraub

I once put a hole in my eardrum by diving into a pool too quickly. So much for SCUBA lessons when I was younger. Never even made it into the ocean. Nope, I managed to mess up in 8 feet of water. That's what happens when you don't equalize -- which made me a little bit concerned about diving 100 feet to the ocean floor in a submarine. I wasn't sure how my eardrum would react. Turns out, though, that was not a problem at all.

There were other things to think about. Like, once they closed the hatch and the submarine began to submerge, there was no way to get out. Not only was there no way out, but what if a small leak happened and it quickly mushroomed into a flood, filling the room with water -- like Sigourney Weaver in Alien -- and I drowned? Or what if a tsunami hit Hawaii, like the one from last March, and spun the sub like a toy, eventually smashing it into the coral reef?

A normal person who was not a Sacramento short sale agent would have sat in the 48-person submarine and quietly looked at fish through the glass window. But not me. I know horror intimately. I close short sales. My imagination kicked into overdrive. Soon as I realized it was happening, I stopped those thoughts from continuing. My stomach immediately calmed. My fingers unclenched. I acquiesced to the circumstances at hand. There are worse ways to kick the bucket; I concluded, I was not going to die in a submarine.

But that episode reminded me of how some of my clients react. I don't blame them. I sent each client who is closing this week a long list that explains each procedure that leads to a successful closing in a short sale. I didn't want them to worry that their files would not close with me on vacation in Hawaii. One of them worried anyway. He emailed a member of my team, asking how was it possible to close on time when we were scheduled to close in 5 days and he hadn't yet signed docs. It sounded like he was freaking out.

Sometimes I explain too much, I suspect. I realize to a person outside of the short sale process, it can appear as though it's impossible to close. However, much of the action happens in the last 2 to 3 days, and it happens quickly. We have some files that fund and record on the same day. Once the short sale HUD is approved in California, closing escrow is dependant on the buyer's lender.

I reassured the seller that we will close on time. In fact, we're closing a day early. I hope he feels better. What made me feel better was learning that our submarine, at a 100-foot depth, can ascend to the top in less than 40 seconds.

Photos by Elizabeth Weintraub and Adam Weintraub

Where does coffee come from? That sort of question is right up there with why is the sky blue? And who put the salt in the ocean? You know the answers but who cares? Really. It doesn't make any difference in our normal day-to-day lives, if you're like me, a Sacramento short sale agent focused on closing short sales.  Because if you're a person who needs caffeine, you're gonna drink it anyway. Unless you're addicted to Starbucks, which for some reason is often the example used as a way to justify spending more money -- why, this new expensive techno gizmo doesn't cost anymore over a year's time than what you spend per day at Starbucks!

Although, I rarely go to Starbucks unless it's to spend a gift card. However, some coffees are better than Starbucks. And, if you really like coffee, you can get a kick without drinking it. Did you know that? If you don't have time for a cup of coffee in the morning, you can gobble down a handful of chocolate-covered coffee beans and be zipping along in no time at all. But don't eat too many of them. Six chocolate-covered beans are equivalent to a cup of strong coffee. If you eat an entire bag, you might get sick.

I also discovered that some cherries (those little red things -- inside of which are your coffee beans, normally a pair of beans per cherry) contain only one bean. Those beans are peaberries. They are fruity and sweet. You can make coffee from peaberries, and it's different because it's fruity. Only 2 to 4% of all coffee bean trees produce peaberries. We picked one cherry and guess what? It contained a peaberry!

Kona, Hawaii, is famous for coffee. Seemed like a good thing to do on vacation, tour a coffee farm. This one has been in business since 1850, the Greenwell Farms. Can't sit at a pretend resort forever or your brain will rot. Greenwell Farms is located about 1500 feet above sea level in the coffee belt. It gets a minimum of 300 days of sunshine, bright sunlight early morning with cool breezes, followed by warmth and a late afternoon misting of rain. Perfect climate for great coffee. Greenwell buys cherries from other farms but also grows, hand picks, processes and roasts its own coffee on location.

This farm is run by a fourth-generation Greenwell dude. It features a bunch of different types of avocados. They never pick them. They wait for the avocados to ripen and fall to the ground before they are bagged and given away to customers. Along with other types of fruit such as papayas and apple bananas. There is also the farm dog. Her name is Lola. That's the nickname my dad used to call me when I was a kid. Guess it was because I was so darned cute when my mother dressed me up like Shirley Temple. I got whatever I wanted. The lasted all of 6 months.

Good movie if you've never seen it -- those Damn Yankees. Whatever Lola wants, Lola gets . . .

I hope you enjoy the photos! Greenwall Farms, by Elizabeth Weintraub

My sister asked me whether I had received everything I wanted for Christmas. Then she answered her own text message with: "Of course you did; you're in Hawaii." But that's only because she did not know about the email from a buyer's agent sent on Christmas Eve and received on Christmas Day. Some gifts you can do without.

As a result, I did not pass on the information in that email to my clients. I withheld it. Sue me. They can wait to hear it today. I pride myself on my speed-of-light communication efforts but this is one example of why it's not always a good idea to immediately deliver bad news. Why ruin their holiday because some doofus agent was forced to be present at a home inspection on Christmas Eve? You think I'm joking but it was 7:30 at night on Christmas Eve!

As I explained to the agent, I don't know which had blown me away more. That an agent would actually deliver a Request for Repair demand containing a seller credit on a Sacramento short sale? Or that the agent would send it for Christmas Day delivery? Much less, who does a home inspection the night before Christmas? Not a mouse was stirring, not even a home inspector?

I have no idea why this agent did not manage the buyers' expectations. It can't really be ignorance because any buyer's agent working on a short sale is supposed to know that banks do not allow repairs nor credits to the buyer in-lieu-of repairs. That's because if there is any money available, the short sale bank wants it. Besides, this particular short sale approval letter arrived with an arm's length affidavit, which clearly states no credits and no repairs. Not to mention, I drive home that point over and over, ad nauseum. There is no excuse for this Request for Repair demand nor the seller credit.

The repairs were not even serious issues. A few loose roof tiles, moisture noted on window sills, some damaged dry wall, the thermostat malfunctioned. What home inspector takes a job on Christmas Eve? Answer: probably the inebriated who can't figure out how to turn on a furnace. I'll bet the guy didn't even check to see if the pilot light was lit. But you can be certain that these incredibly informed buyers are absolutely positive it would cost $5,000, let's say, to fix everything. Moreover, they decided to beat my sellers over the head on Christmas Day with their silly demand, to hold them hostage and threaten to cancel.

Sorry, it doesn't work that way. If you can't handle the results of a home inspection, you cancel. And then you do it again on the next short sale because A) all homes have defects and B) short sales are sold "as is."

As a Sacramento short sale agent, I see it all. The smart, capable agents and the clueless agents who are used to getting kicked in the butt by their buyers. I asked the agent to deliver a better, more reasonable request, and that I would send the documents to the sellers today. But odds are this particular buyer's agent will wait until New Year's Eve. You know, when everybody else is snuggled up, celebrating with friends and family. This buyer's agent will be typing a cancellation. It takes all kinds.

These sellers have been working on this short sale since March. They finally received short sale approval after two submission attempts, and now their buyers are flaking out on them. It's sorta par for the course. I pretty much nail buyers to the front door, but they can still cancel. Well, I do not give up. I am an excellent Sacramento short sale agent. As such, I will sell this home again. To buyers who realize the importance of hiring a competent buyer's agent who can guide them to home ownership. There are superior agents in Sacramento. You can recognize them because they're the agents with happy buyers.

If you need a single-story Elk Grove home under $200,000 with one lender that's already been approved, shoot me an email.

Here is an example of what this particular buyer's agent deserved to find in a Christmas stocking. I found it in a tide pool yesterday. It's pretty gross looking. A Hawaiian sea cucumber, by Elizabeth Weintraub:

Natives from this part of the world were incredibly smart. Did you know 300 years ago Hawaiians raised fish in ponds? If it was up to me, I'd take my Tom Hanks' volleyball, wade out in the water and try to bash them to death. But these people figured out it was smarter to build fish ponds and fish traps to raise their own fish. That's brilliant. My husband says I would have eventually figured it out, but what I suspect I would have figured out would have been how to beat on my husband and send him out to forage for food. Up to the day that he decides not to return home. Yup, wouldn't blame him -- went out looking for food and never came home again.

We went on an accidental hike yesterday that turned out to be much longer and a bit more ambitious than we expected. It's deceptive, this little path in front of the Visitor's Center at this national park on the Big Island. It's called Kaloko-Honokohau, and it's near Kailua-Kona. We thought we'd take a leisurely stroll to the fish trap and fish ponds and ended up hiking over long trails made up of chunks of lava, which required careful navigation, lest we'd kick a few rocks into our shins, scape our ankles or otherwise stumble over them. Thank goodness I wore Tevas. Hiking boots would be recommended.

The trail vanished at the fish ponds. This is not like hiking elsewhere. There are no short cuts. The only short cut is over miles of turned-over and twisted-up lava beds. It's a trip I would not even dare to attempt in boots much less barefoot. My husband interpreted my future planning of how we could beg for a ride back to our car once we crawled to the highway as a lack of confidence in his navigational abilities, but I prefer to think of my preemptive planning as an excellent example of my survival skills and ability to always have options at hand.

The funny thing is nobody we met along the way ever heard of the Hale Ho'okipa (Visitor's Center). That's because the path forms a Y at one part and veers off to the Visitor's Center. I guess everybody who comes to the ocean here traverses the same path and does not realize what lies beyond it, nor that the government has established a big system of trails and parkland on the premises.

If you ever decide to try this hike, my suggestion is head north first, to the right, and tackle the more ambitious part of the trail at the beginning. Then hike along the beach and turn back toward the Visitor's Center (Hale Ho'okipa), pass the Aimakapa Fishpond at the fish trap.

Here are some photos of the park area at Kaloko-Honokohau, by Elizabeth Weintraub:

I am so glad that I covered up the cactus garden before we left Sacramento. I pondered whether it was worse that they be deprived of sunlight and then decided if the alternative was death-by-frost it was better to starve them from the sun. They seem to be pretty much dormant in the winter anyway. A friend told me the temperatures in Sacramento were dipping below 30 last night. Brrr, that is cold.

Being in Hawaii is no exception. You can freeze to death here, too. I look out my window and see snow on Mauna Loa. Although, to tell the truth, it's in the 80s on the beach. But yesterday we decided to drive to Kohala and tour the "thumb" area of the Big Island. Man, it was raining, sleeting sideways, the temperatures dipped below 65, dark skies, cloudy -- the weather was awful. Yet, we stopped for ice cream in Hawi, regardless.

Here are some photos of Pololu Valley and the Wind Farm to the south by a small airport:

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But once we drove south around the bend, the landscape changed. It rather abruptly moved from wet, green and chilly, back to the arid zone of dry brush and overturned chunks of lava. The good news is we were back in 80 degrees. While I like lush vegetation, I like warm weather more. Which is probably why there are so many resorts on this side of the island. We decided to check a few out, just for the fun of it.

When stopped at the gate, my husband explained that we were scouting out a possible hotel for next year at this time. We were potential guests. Let me tell you, the Mauna Kea may have the most beautiful beach on this side of the island, but the staff were as rude as they come. Not only were they unfriendly, but the hotel was positively ugly. An ugly hotel does not make up for a beautiful beach. Below is a photo of that beach, followed by a photo of the hotel:

After our horrible experience at the Mauna Kea, we stopped at the Hapuna Beach Prince Hotel. The difference was like night and day -- between North and South Kahola. Like the difference between a regular real estate transaction and a short sale. The valet guys let us keep our car in the registration area. We were warmly greeted inside the hotel, even though they no longer employ a concierge -- just an "activities" person.

The second floor hallways were long, dark and sorta spooky, but the grounds were spectacular. They gave us keys to several hotel rooms to preview. The suite was lovely, it was like having your own private condo right there on the beach. In addition to a beautiful sandy beach, there is an infinity pool, and many grassy areas where you can set lawn chairs and relax in relative privacy. I like this hotel. It might not be as luxurious as a couple of other hotels, but it is indeed comparable. I would recommend it.

Here are some photos of the Hapuna Beach Prince Hotel:

See? It's beautiful. And to think that we almost did not stop because the entrance was on the opposite side of the road. It was across the street from the beach. Which made us think it was not on the beach, but it is on the beach. The road loops around and goes under an overpass. So, the guidebooks did not lie about is location but they also did not mention how to get there. In case you're wondering, the suites cost around $1200 a day, but that is a comparable rate for similar properties at this time of year. If you just want an oceanfront, those rooms are about $600.

I leave you with this photo I quickly captured when the opportunity presented itself:

All photos by your Sacramento Short Sale Agent, Elizabeth Weintraub, on vacation in Hawaii.

Kids are like TV commercials. There is no reason for them to be so unnaturally loud. Government is passing a law to tone down the commercials, but nobody is doing anything about the kids. They have a law in some states that your boom-boom car stereo can't be audible from 50-feet away, and they should do the same thing with kids. Kids shriek. At top volume. It's a good thing that I am a Sacramento short sale agent and not an elementary school teacher or every loud kid would be sitting at his desk with his hands folded and duct tape over his mouth.

You might be thinking, oh, that Elizabeth Weintraub, she doesn't like kids. She is just like W. C. Fields. But that's not true. I love kids. I love kids because I am a kid myself. The secret to my perpetual youth, the reason that I did not have to grow up, is because I don't have any kids. The people who have to grow up, to be responsible adults who worry about what goes down on their permanent record -- those people are parents. I am not a parent.

In fact, I am a bad influence on kids. Parents who know me will not let me anywhere near their children. I encourage bad behavior. If it looks like it's something fun to do, I egg the kids to do it. Seriously, do NOT take me to a restaurant with kids. I cannot be trusted to behave myself. We play drums on the table with our chopsticks. We roll oranges down the aisle. Fling ice cubes at customers. Dump sugar into a big pile in the middle of the table and blow it off. All before the appetizers.

But when I am lying on the beach, feeling the sting of blowing sand and warm sun burning the crap out of my upper thigh -- with both eyes closed and my mind drifting away -- no shrieking is allowed.

This resort has a place near the ocean for massages. It's a no-shriek zone. There are no pictures, no international icons, that designate the area a no-shriek zone. I think two hands wringing a neck would be a good image -- with the kid's tongue hanging out, like Bart Simpson. Just a sign that warns passersby to be quiet. But little tots can't read.

Photos: Elizabeth Weintraub, Big Island, Hawaii

When you get crummy service people often repeat that you "get what you paid for." They mean you didn't pay enough to get good service. There are some things that if you pay enough for people to fawn over your every need, they will. My husband hates being fawned over. I don't mind it so much because I don't expect people in the service industry, for example, to behave like real human beings. My expectations are lower than that. There is a big difference, though, in the type of service you get when you are willing to pay more for it.

In real estate, it's somewhat different. You can't really pay much more for superior service over bad service. You can get both for basically the same price. It's especially true when it comes to a Sacramento short sale agent because the money never passes through the seller's hands and it doesn't really end up in her pocket. In those situations, potential customers choose an agent based on impression of that short sale agent and that agent's reputation. I get many referrals for my Sacramento short sale business and favorable reviews on Zillow, so I would say I am doing the right things.

Every so often I run into a client who thinks all real estate agents are the same. These types of clients believe an agent is out for one thing and one thing only. They have no idea what they are talking about, but unfortunately their mouths are still moving. They don't realize that we Sacramento short sale agents put up with a lot of abuse by the sheer nature of our job. We don't welcome their abuse. I will fight to the death for my sellers, but if one of them suddenly goes off the deep end, I cancel my association with them. I can't lessen the quality of my service -- it's not in my makeup.

It's rare that I have to cancel a listing but it sometimes happens. Maybe once every couple of years, I end up with a nut-job. Some years more, some years less. They still receive quality service, though. I would not throw a nut-job under the bus any more than I would purposely deliver bad service to anybody. That's not who I am. You can't pay me more to make me perform better. There is no menu of discount services and no Red Carpet menu. There are no second-class citizens in my short sale world.

Just sellers who need to get out from under an overwhelming obligation without personal liability. Sellers who need to sell a home a Sacramento quickly, efficiently and for a price the short sale bank will accept.

Having said all of that, I will admit that I am enjoying perks from the hotel where my husband and I are staying in Hawaii. We have a room on a premium floor, which means we get free snacks, a free breakfast, complimentary beverages and an unparalleled ocean view. The thing that I did not realize we get is private breakfast dining. We don't have to sit in any of the plethora of restaurants on the property and mingle with other regular guests.

Instead, we get to stand behind Mr. Hog-the-Toaster while he hovers over the counter waiting for his crummy bagel to pop up. This guy is so comfortable in our private lounge that he has mistaken the room for his own kitchen. You can't get around him to pinch a slice of fresh salmon off a tray because his big ass butt is in the way. You can say "excuse me" and it falls on deaf ears. The guy really is in his own kitchen in his mind. The place where he ignores his wife and kids, I suppose, where he stands in front of the refrigerator with the door open and stares, lettting all the cold air out, driving up his utility bills, and he plainly does not give a crap.

I give a crap about things nobody else cares about. For example, we had to change rooms yesterday. Seriously. OK, I know what you're thinking. Stop laughing. Our bed was on the wrong side of the room. It did not offer a view of the ocean. Everything was on the wrong side of the room, and it did not feel right. The TV credenza should have been located on the opposite wall, but it wasn't. The hotel switched our rooms for the one next door. I am much happier now. I suspect my husband is, too, although he might not admit it. And I'm not talking about his being happy because I am happy. I mean honestly and openly happy and content. If that doesn't describe a vacation, what does?

Below are photos of the grounds. I hope you enjoy my view from the Big Island. Photos: Elizabeth Weintraub

Ain't it the truth? If you want your real estate business to explode overnight, just go on vacation. What can happen a few days before Christmas, you may ask? Oy. But between my laptop, my iPAD and my Smartphone, I am never without communication of some sort. Unless, of course, I leave my phone in my hotel safe. Which is where my phone will be residing today.

That photo above is of the rabbit in the new Terminal at the Sacramento Airport. I know lots of people in Sacramento don't like it, but I find the structure attractive and invigorating. It makes me think my Hawaiian Airlines plane will be on time. Even though that is a fallacy, and Hawaiian Airlines did not put our luggage on our connecting flight in Honolulu. But that is to be expected.

See, this is the problem. We have become so accustomed to bad service, delayed flights, lost luggage, it's become the norm. The standard. In fact, there are people alive today, living in this 22nd Century who do not know that at one time receptionists used to answer the phone and those same people would transfer you to a department if you needed help. Employees in that department worked at the company. They cared about their job, and they cared about their customers. They would actually solve your problem or die trying.

Today, that person is in the Philippines or India. Pretty soon there will be no person at all. Nobody will answer your call, and nobody will help you. We have inferior and bad customer service but at least by god we have some semblance of customer service. And everybody is happy because there are few of us left alive who remember we once had good customer service. Do you remember when department stores had employees who were elevator operators? They wore a uniform, white gloves, and a little monkey hat. They ran the elevator by closing the criss-crossed metal doors and raising the arm that made the elevator go up and down.

No, of course you don't remember elevator operators because you were not born yet. If something doesn't work, you throw it away today. You don't expect excellence from a company because you have no idea what it is. You've never seen it. And that is a shame because you are missing out on a great pleasure -- the right to complain and bitch about it.

When we stop complaining, we have lost the battle.

But today I will deliver that short sale approval letter, send a long-awaited offer to anxious sellers, and put another short sale into contract. I will do my job as a Sacramento short sale agent to the best of my ability. Right after I send a letter of complaint to Hawaiian Airlines. And then I am taking the rest of the day off to run barefoot in the surf.

Photo: Elizabeth Weintraub, Android cellphone