Located in Somersett, this Sierra Canyon home by Del Webb, is being offered at $215,000. I recently took a video tour in this very clean 2 bedroom home with a den.
For a personal tour of this home contact Patrick M. Fletcher at: (775)240-7970 or pfletcher@dicksonrealty.com
The following information tracks sales statistics for the Reno/Sparks Real Estate market as of October of 2010. The graph looks at New Homes Sales, Resales and refies on existing loans. Due to very limited building, new home sales are understandably low. Otherwise, resale volume is following its typical cyclical pattern. It is highly likely that we will see refies decline because interest rates have been slowly rising over the past few weeks.
This stunning new offering from Ryder Homes provides the would-be owner with absolutely fabulous views as well as the pride of ownership within one of Somersett’s gated communities.
3 Bedroom, 3.5 Bath, 3 Car Garage 3058 Square Feet .59 acres
Listed at $495,000
For a personal showing contact: Patrick Fletcher @ (775)240-7970 or pfletcher@dicksonrealty.com
Located within the Somersett Master Planned Community, Ryder Homes latest offering provides not only a stunning and highly desirable home but virtually unparalled views.
Asking Price: $525,000
Bedrooms: 3 Bathrooms: 3.5 Garage: 4 car tandem Square Footage: 3296 Lot Size: .52 acres
For a personal showing contact: Patrick M. Fletcher @ (775)240-7970 or pfletcher@dicksonrealty.com
In 2005, I took my wife to New Orleans for her birthday. My wife went to high school in Alabama and still has family living there so we decided to take a drive over to Fairhope. Fairhope is a small town in Alabama that sits on the southeast shoreline. While there we stopped at a restaurant near where the USS Alabama is moored. The establishment, obviously, has a plethora of naval memorabilia. So being the WWII nerd that I am, I was compelled to circle the place in order to take in all that I could. While on this nostalgic journey, I happened to overhear a conversation between a 4o something gentleman and his family. The man was essentially regaling his wife, mother and children about a bar fight he had been in. The pinnacle of the story centered around this man breaking a Budweiser bottle over some other miscreants head. Needless to say, after this, I did not hold the south in the highest esteem. I’m not trying to say that we have not all had those evening we would care to forget. However, to “chest thump” this type of thing in front of your family simply puts the “red” in “redneck”.
As happens with all of us, my wife’s 20 year reunion was last week. And much to my chagrin, I agreed to take a week long outing to Alabama with Shawn (my wife) and our 16 month old son. Let me preface this tale by saying that I was not exactly thrilled with this idea and was not shy in letting Shawn know my feelings. In that she put a lot of effort into planning this trip and assured me that the beaches were not covered with BP’s most notable contribution to the Gulf, I elected to tone down my typical level of sarcasm and go with it.
We arrived at the Orange Beach Hilton mid-morning on Sunday. I would be remiss if I did not mention the inordinate number of bugs that inhabite the beach area. Being a longtime resident of Nevada, we seem to welcome and even feel a sense of wonderment when a Dragonfly crosses our path. In our short trip along the coastline to the hotel, I probably hit about 15 of the things. They seem to inundate the entire area. At no time were there less than 10 of them in your direct line of site. Outside of presenting somewhat of an annoyance, that didn’t really bother me. The palmetto bugs on the other hand are a completely different story which I will get to later.
Once we had stowed our stuff and fed the baby we decided to head on down to the beach. I will say this unreservedly-the beaches are so intensely beautiful that words do not begin to do them justice. The sand is almost entirely white and did not seem to absorb the heat from the sun that I expected it would. Calvin (my son) was somewhat put-off by the sand, only because it was his first time walking on it. The water was a pleasant shade of blue and much warmer than the northern California shorelines I am used too. I carried my little boy out into the water. At about twenty yards out the water came up to my waist. It was at this point I noticed numerous splashes going on just in front of us. OK, so I’m one of those people who has watched to many episodes of “When Sharks Attack”. My first inclination was that we were about to be attacked by a Bull shark or some derivative there of. As we returned to the beach in some haste, I looked down into the water only to realize that the water was filled with what I can only assume was some kind of minnow. My Bull sharks turned out to be something called an Angel Fish (about 6 inches long) that were feasting on the little minnow’s.
Beautiful-wish you were here!
If you are looking for a Starbucks in the south, your quest will be slightly more trying than in Nevada. There are 3 Starbucks within 5 minutes of my house. Gulf Shores and Orange Beach have exactly none. They do however, have a comfy espresso bar called the Dizzy Bean. We had to drive for about 15 minutes to get there, but a day without overpriced coffee hardly seems worth living. The Dizzy Bean is located in strip mall called the Wharf. The expanse and appeal of this mall could only be equalled by the “ghost town” feeling you get while driving into it. Granted this is at the tail end of their season but the words “dead zone” could best describe this place. An all to real effect of the the BP oil disaster. Because I am congenitally incapable of remembering to pack properly, I forgot to bring a dress belt. Fortunately, we found a store called the Archipelago which had exactly what I was looking for (and then sum). The owner, Mitch, happened to be on the floor that day. After selling me a belt and 3 expensive shirts, I mentioned to Mitch that I wanted to play golf while I was down there. Immediately, he informed me that he was playing Thursday morning with a couple of friends at their private club and asked if I would like to go with them. Never in my life have I encountered such flagrant hospitality. Not only did he invite a perfect stranger to play golf with he and his friends, but he also offered to pick me up so my wife would not have to be hassled with dropping me off. The Wharf (I’m sensing a pattern here) was in immaculate condition. The course is surrounded by every type of mature flora and fauna you would expect to find in the south-truly an exceptional piece of eye candy. To go even a step further, neither he nor his best friend of 30 years would let me pay for anything. When I insisted on buying lunch, it was explained to me that that was not how things were done in Alabama. And get this, over a period of 4 hours, not once did anyone talk about smashing a beer bottle over some guys head.
As much as I would like to give Alabama my resounding approval, I can’t let the food situation go. While we were there we ate in several restaurants. Our first experience, Wynselles, could only be described as an abomination to food. I ordered a roast beef po’boy. I thought that the meat would be something akin to the roast beef you find on a french dip. Wrong!!! The mass of goo slapped on top of a dry french roll could charitably be called a spam derivative. Rarely, will I refuse to eat something. After two bites I relegated myself to the french fries. My wife, who is a fiend for shrimp barely made it thru two pieces. The mother-in-law, trying to keep on a good face, managed to choke down roughly half of her meal. Are next dinning experience came at Jake’s Steakhouse. Generally, when you eat at a steakhouse you would expect there to be a fairly wide selection of well you know-steak. Not so much. They offfered a rib-eye and a top sirloin. However, we happened to be there on family night. Family nights claim to fame is prime rib. I absolutely love prime rib (mostly because it is the least healthy cut of beef you can eat). Unlike the po’boy, I was able to identify this steak as being from a cow. Unfortunately, this is about the nicest thing that I can say. Medium rare somehow turned into medium well, and someone went a little crazy with the salt. The caper was the sour cream for the baked potato. It came in a squeeze packet. Kinda like ketchup/mustard packets you get at McDonald’s. Did I fail to mention that this poor facsimile of food cost me $18.00? We were able to find one fabulous restaurant. Cosmo’s was an absolute delite. My fillet was cook just below medium rare and sat on what they refer to as “dirty risotto”. I’m not entirely certain what was in the risotto, but dam was it good. The whole thing was finished off with a corn relish that not only added to the dishes visual appeal but was dang tasty!
So after 5 days at the beach we headed off to my mother-in-laws to prepare for the reunion and give grandma her baby fix. Ya ever notice the effect grandchildren have on grandparents?
My wife who is typically fairly headstrong and fearless reverted back to the insane and pointless insecurities most of faced in high school. She even asked me for fashion advice. Trust me that is not, at all, a typical behavior for my lovely bride. The first night of the reunion was scheduled to begin at the Fairhope vs. Foley football game. Which brings me to the next nuance of the the south that I find particularly enthralling. We love football in the west; however, the grandeur elicited at this game would be comparable to a college game in Nevada. The stands were immense compared to my high school. And they needed the space because the place was standing room only. And lest we not forget the cannon that could have easily awakened the dead. My only real issue about the game had nothing to do with the event itself. Ginger (Shawn’s BFF from those days) made us leave at halftime. To the best of my knowledge she had not been drinking so I can only assume that she doesn’t understand the time given fact that you never leave a football game early. Unless, of course, your team is getting it’s lunch handed to it and you can’t take the humiliation.
After our premature departure, we headed to reunion phase II. The bar was called “My Place” and was owned by a member of the 1990 graduating class. As my wife bounced around sharing pedantic trivia with her former classmates, I settled down at the spouces table. I sat with Ginger’s husband, Ed, and discussed the various points and counter-points of life. Business first (Ed is a banker) and then sports. Being a Realtor, I was dumbfounded to be told that the people who live in Fairhope (Baldwin County) do not own the land that their homes sit on-the county does. They only own the improvements.
I can’t speak for woman, but one of the best things about being a guy is the ease in which we can talk about sports. With men, roughly 90% of us live and breath some element of competition. We can with virtual impunity settle into an athletic discussion. You must always be careful to not be to outspoken about their teams deficiencies, but for the most part its like talking to your best friend. The rest of the night was uneventful with the exception of Shawn’s old buddy Chris. Chris had a few to many cocktails and mentioned that his wife (who was at home with the kids) was not too happy with him. He proceeded to tell me that in all likelihood his night would be spent cruising the couch. He did, however, have a fall back. When all else fails and the misses won’t let it go (cause that never happens) just do some “nakid jumpin jacks” in front of her.
The next night, at the Fairhope Art Museum (I’m not touching that one) was more of the same. We couldn’t stay long because we had to be up at 3:30 a.m. in order to make our flight.
Would I ever choose to live in Alabama? Probably not. The summer heat and humidity is something akin to Dante’s 2nd level of hell and I’m not nearly conservative enough. Will I go back? Sure. The beaches are outstanding, and no they are not covered with oil. The people are too friendly for words. I will have to bring a lunch box though.