Real Estate
Remembrance of Thanksgivings past
Faced with a holiday spent alone, try a Zoomsgiving

Usually on Thanksgiving, people drive or fly back to the old homestead to celebrate with family and friends.
My memories of the celebration include a long dining room table that actually fits in the dining room, a place we only visit on Thanksgiving and Christmas. The dining room is now only an option in much of the construction industry, particularly in our large cities.
Preparation of dinner begins at 7 a.m. when the turkey is stuffed and placed in the oven to cook for hours while potatoes and vegetables are prepared, pies are baked, and cranberry sauce is stirred.
This year, the epidemiologists are begging us to stay home and celebrate Thanksgiving only among members of the same household. Since I’m the only one in my household and my Schnauzers can’t set a table or carve a turkey, I thought I would bring you a few tales of Thanksgivings from my life to share if you’re alone.
Picture it: Weymouth, Mass., 1966. My parents and I drive up to a small cottage set among tall trees belonging to my aunt and uncle. There’s an accessory dwelling over to the right; the domain of my grandmother, Winifred: a one-room studio with a jalousied porch and a bathroom where the curtain rod also serves as a clothes rack. I step out of the car, smelling the scent of pine and hearing the dried needles crunch under my feet.
This is my father’s family. My uncles and young cousins are in the living room, my aunts and grandmother in the kitchen, while my mother is on the back porch, stringing together an assortment of mismatched tables and adding a tablecloth. Several card tables are set aside for the children’s area. Two space heaters will keep us warm and soon we are called to the table.
A high caloric dinner ensues, consisting of turkey, stuffing, gravy with giblets, mashed potatoes, squash, turnips, and green bean casserole, complemented by mince and pumpkin pies. After having her fill, my grandmother, the matriarch, rises from her seat at the head of the table and announces, “I got the dinner. You do the dishes.”
Fast forward to Alexandria, Va., 1983. I’m living in a townhouse, for which I paid $83,000, in a subdivision called Windsor Park, one of only two in the immediate area. There’s a 7-Eleven and a fresh vegetable stand nearby and a church down the main road. Years later, the area becomes a cute, little place called Kingstowne.
The other interesting thing to know about this particular Thanksgiving is that I’m in love – dizzying, heart palpitating, feeling high as a kite love. Naturally, I have to impress him with my culinary talents, so I cross my fingers and cook a turkey-for-two and some of the trimmings to share in my 9×9 dining room. My first attempt at cooking a turkey is successful! If I ever fall in love like that again, I might be tempted to cook another.
Washington, D.C., 2012. Since neither one of us wants to cook, my friend, Kathy, and I start a five-year tradition of having Thanksgiving dinner with Champagne at a different D.C. restaurant each year followed by a first-run movie, with a short dog-walking break in between.
What movie do we see? Who knows? After a big meal and a couple of glasses of Champagne, I usually fall asleep halfway through it anyway. After our last celebration together, Kathy tells me that she’s moving back home to upstate New York in early 2018. Our five-year run has ended.
Alexandria, Va., 2018. I spend Thanksgiving with other strays (those who have no other place to go) at a Friendsgiving dinner hosted by my friend, Laurie.
Getting off the elevator in her building, I can hear a lot of noise coming from her place at the end of the hall. People are laughing, clinking glasses, and introducing themselves to one another. I am welcomed with pre-COVID hugs all around, although I only know about five people.
Laurie has started with a table in her small dining area and adds multiple tables until they form an L shape from dining room through the living room, seating about 30 people. I’m not sure I would even know 30 people to invite were I hosting the dinner.
Which brings us to today. I’m having a Zoomsgiving this year. Each person cooks one dish and holds it up for the others to see while our mouths water. There’s no dining room required and you don’t have to do the dishes.
Valerie M. Blake is a licensed Associate Broker in D.C., Maryland, and Virginia with RLAH Real Estate. Call or text her at 202-246-8602, email her via DCHomeQuest.com, or follow her on Facebook at TheRealst8ofAffairs.
Real Estate
Under-the-radar Delaware beach towns smart buyers are targeting
There are other options if Rehoboth prices are scaring you off
Look, we love Rehoboth. We will always love Rehoboth. Queer folks have been flocking there since the 1940s, and with scores of LGBTQ-owned businesses and a Pride calendar packed tighter than the boardwalk in July, “Rehomo” earned its crown fair and square.
But let’s be honest with each other: trying to buy property there right now feels a lot like trying to get a reservation at the one good restaurant in town on a Saturday in August. Everyone wants in, inventory is tighter than your swim trunks after Labor Day brunch, and the prices have officially entered “are you kidding me” territory.
So here’s a thought: What if you didn’t fight the crowd? What if, instead, you let Rehoboth keep doing its glorious, chaotic, glitter-bomb thing and you quietly built your beach life 15 minutes away for considerably less drama and considerably more square footage? Here are four towns ready for their close-up.
Lewes: The Charming Overachiever
Lewes is what happens when a beach town actually has its life together. Historic charm, walkability, proximity to Cape Henlopen State Park, less crowding, and a strong year-round community. Unlike towns that turn into ghost towns after Labor Day, Lewes maintains a real community all year long, which is more than we can say for some situationships.
And right now, the market is practically begging you to make a move. It’s one of the most desirable and stable markets in the county — built for buyers thinking long-term, not flippers, and Sussex County overall has flipped into genuine buyer’s market territory for the first time in years. Translation: you finally get to be the one with leverage.
Bethany Beach: My Personal Pick
Full disclosure: I own in Bethany. So consider this section a little biased — and also the most honest thing I’ll tell you in this whole article.
When I drive down from D.C., I’m not looking for more of D.C. I love this city, but I also love leaving it — and yes, some of the people in it too (you know who you are, and so do I). Bethany gives me that full exhale. It’s quiet in the way that actually means something: fewer crowds, slower mornings, a soundtrack that’s mostly waves instead of nightlife. It leans hard into its “quiet resort” reputation, with low property taxes and a limited geographic footprint, and it is not the least bit sorry about it.
But quiet doesn’t mean isolated. I’ve got a genuinely excellent food scene nearby, real shopping, and a string of charming neighboring beach towns — and when I do want a taste of Rehoboth’s energy, it’s a short, easy drive away. I get to choose my dose of chaos instead of living inside it.
And here’s the part that matters most for this article: the price. If you’ve looked at Rehoboth listings and quietly closed the tab in despair, I need you to hear this — you can absolutely afford a beach house. It just doesn’t have to be in Rehoboth. Bethany’s average home value sits around $848,592, which is still real money, no question — but it buys you more house, more land, and more peace than the same budget gets you closer to the boardwalk. Bethany is welcoming too, just without Rehoboth’s decades of built-in queer institutional history — and for plenty of us, that trade-off is more than worth it.
Fenwick Island: Small Town, Big Flex
Fenwick rarely gets mentioned and, frankly, it should be insulted. It’s tiny, it’s quiet, and it has beach access without the carnival energy. The market data tends to lump it in with Bethany, where single-family oceanfront homes clear $1 million while entry-level condos start in the $600s — proof that “under-the-radar” doesn’t mean “bargain bin,” it means “fewer people fighting you for it.”
South Bethany: For the Boat Gays
Some of us want sand between our toes. Others want a private dock and a boat named something deeply unserious. South Bethany’s canal communities are built for the latter — water access on both sides, fewer crowds, and a lifestyle that says, “I have a captain’s hat and I am not afraid to wear it.”
The Math Works in Your Favor Now
Here’s the part that should really get your attention: Sussex County’s median sold price has dropped to $440,000, down 3.3% year-over-year, and buyers are routinely closing around 88 cents on the dollar compared to asking price. That’s a far cry from the unhinged bidding wars of 2021 and 2022, when overpaying was basically a competitive sport. Inventory across the county sits at nearly 2,500 active listings — the most of any county in Delaware, meaning you actually get to be picky for once. Revolutionary, we know.
And no, choosing one of these towns doesn’t mean leaving your people behind. Sussex Pride serves the entire county, not just Rehoboth proper, and CAMP Rehoboth’s resources extend well beyond town limits too. You’re not exiling yourself to the suburbs of queerness — you’re just getting a bigger kitchen, a quieter porch, and a much shorter line for the bathroom.
Add in the fact that Delaware has no estate tax and some of the lowest property taxes around, savings that genuinely add up over a retirement horizon, and the case writes itself. Rehoboth will always be the beating, sequined heart of queer beach culture in Delaware. But if you’ve been telling yourself a beach house isn’t in the cards — I’m here to tell you it absolutely is. It just might be 15 minutes south, with your own quiet porch, your own salt air, and considerably more room to breathe.
Have a real estate question or Rehoboth market tip? Reach out to [email protected] for LGBTQ-friendly real estate resources in the Rehoboth area.
Justin Noble is a Realtor licensed in D.C., Maryland, and Delaware with Monument Sotheby’s International Realty. Reach him at [email protected] or 302-897-7499.
Real Estate
‘Culture eats strategy for breakfast’
Real estate agents must adapt, learn how to manage from within
“Culture Eats Strategy for Breakfast” was a phrase often repeated in many of my management courses from the University of Illinois. The concept was discussed at length – how the best laid plans can sometimes be supported or derailed by the culture of the people involved in whichever project to be implemented. Whether it be a project to implement new software, roll out a new product or service, or just reaching a sales target, the way the team involved works together can indeed affect the outcome.
Perhaps this is just another way to say, “teamwork makes the dream work!” Most teams usually have someone who is designated as a leader. The leader can try to lead through authority and control or can alternatively try to lead through influence and encouraging a more collective framework for solving problems.
Why does this matter when picking the right real estate agent or team to work with? Besides having a job as a salesperson for the brokerage, the real estate agent is contractually bound to act on their client’s behalf. The buyer broker agreement is in place so that the agent and the client can work together as a team in communications regarding offer strategy, during negotiations, implementing marketing plans, as well as selecting which renovations or upgrades to choose before selling a property. After the property goes under contract, the job isn’t “done”. There is still work to do.
At this point, the agents then turn into a project manager of sorts – coordinating communications between the lending team, the title attorneys, the other client’s agents, any governmental agencies that could be involved in down payment assistance or helping to clear a property for a sale, and often times groups like a condo board, a home inspector, or contractors when arranging repairs and estimates before a final walk through.
In short, the agent takes on somewhat of a “leadership role” in the transaction and ensures that all the ducks stay in a row until the project is complete. That agent will hopefully be very fluid and forthcoming with their information, copying the required parties on all communications and creating a “paper trail” of who said what or didn’t offer to fix A, B, or C, so that all the minutiae of the contract can be addressed and fulfilled before the settlement date. The agent often must wear many hats and quickly learn the communication styles of an entire new set of people in a short period. One person may not return calls for a week after being contacted. Another person may go on vacation at the beginning of the process and not return emails for two weeks. Another person may wish to have daily updates of the progress of the process.
In this way – an agent quickly learns in each transaction that “culture can eat strategy for breakfast.” Because the agent must adapt to a wide variety of communication styles, learn how to “manage from within”, build support for closing the project by the due date, and somehow keep all the interested parties invested, engaged, and responsive.
Who you work with matters when picking the right person to represent you in your next transaction – so, just remember that “teamwork makes the dream work!”
Joseph Hudson is a referral agent with RLAH. Reach him at 703-587-0597 or [email protected].
Real Estate
Does Pride decor resemble Trump’s design aesthetic?
Glitter, gold, and rejecting the idea that a home should be understated
Interior design is often a balancing act between taste, personality, and restraint. Sometimes, however, restraint leaves the building entirely. Such is the case when the colorful exuberance of gay Pride-inspired decorating collides with the famously excessive decorating style associated with the current occupant of the White House. The result can be a fascinating study in maximalism, spectacle, and unapologetic visual overload.
Donald Trump’s personal decorating style has long been a subject of debate among designers and critics. Admirers see luxury and grandeur. Critics see something else: a dizzying display of gold leaf, marble, mirrors, crystal, and oversized furnishings that often crosses the line from elegant into what many designers would call tacky. More is rarely enough. If one chandelier sparkles, three are better. If a room has gold accents, why not make every available surface gold? (See Oval Office and ballroom rendition for details.)
In many ways, this excess shares common ground with certain Pride celebrations. Pride has never been about blending into the background. It celebrates visibility, self-expression, individuality, and joy. Rainbow colors, dramatic costumes, glitter, flamboyant artwork, and bold statements have long been part of Pride culture. Yet there is an important difference. Pride’s extravagance is often playful, self-aware, and rooted in personal expression, while Trump’s aesthetic has frequently been criticized for equating luxury with sheer quantity and visual intensity.
Combining these influences creates an interior that could best be described as “glamorous chaos.”
Imagine entering a living room in which gold-trimmed mirrors stretch from floor to ceiling. Crystal chandeliers hang above a bright rainbow velvet sectional. Marble floors gleam beneath metallic furniture that appears determined to reflect every available light source. Pride flags become framed artwork surrounded by ornate gold moldings. A room designed this way doesn’t whisper. It shouts.
Color is central to the concept. Pride-inspired interiors often embrace the full spectrum of colors. Trump’s style, meanwhile, traditionally favors cream, gold, black, and glossy finishes. Combining them means introducing vivid jewel tones against a backdrop of faux-palatial luxury. Emerald green chairs, ruby-red draperies, sapphire-blue accent walls, and gold-trimmed furniture can coexist in a way that feels deliberately theatrical.
The key word is theatrical.
Many professional designers spend years learning how to create visual balance. A Pride-meets-Trump interior intentionally ignores many of those rules. Pattern competes with pattern. Shine competes with shine. Artwork competes with furniture. The eye rarely gets a chance to rest. For some homeowners, that sounds exhausting. For others, it sounds like the perfect party.
Lighting offers another opportunity to embrace excess. Crystal chandeliers, mirrored lamps, illuminated shelves, and color-changing LED lighting can transform a room into something resembling a cross between a luxury hotel lobby and a Pride festival. The goal is not subtlety. The goal is spectacle.
A dining room inspired by this combination might feature a massive glass table, gold dining chairs, rainbow floral arrangements, mirrored walls, and enough crystal accessories to keep a polishing cloth busy year-round. Critics would call it gaudy. Fans would call it fabulous.
Artwork becomes particularly important. Pride-themed pieces featuring LGBTQ+ history, activism, and culture can provide meaning beneath the decorative excess. Without these personal and cultural elements, the room risks becoming little more than a collection of expensive looking, but not necessarily expensive, objects. Pride design can work best when it reflects identity and community rather than simply displaying color for color’s sake.
While normally a haven for restful sleep, bedrooms can take a similar approach. Plush velvet fabrics, oversized tufted headboards, metallic and mirrored finishes, colorful accent lighting, and dramatic artwork create a space that feels more like a boutique hotel suite than a traditional bedroom. Again, the challenge is avoiding the temptation to add one more decorative element to an already crowded visual landscape.
What makes this design combination interesting is that both aesthetics reject the idea that a home should be understated. Both embrace visibility. Both invite attention. Both encourage occupants to take up space unapologetically. Yet where Pride design often celebrates authenticity and self-expression, Trump’s decorating style is frequently criticized for prioritizing conspicuous luxury over cohesion and refinement.
The result is an interior style that many people would consider delightfully outrageous and others would consider a decorating nightmare. Either way, nobody is likely to forget it.
In the end, a Pride-inspired interpretation of Donald Trump’s famously over-the-top aesthetic would be colorful, glittering, excessive, and impossible to ignore. It would break nearly every rule of minimalist design while embracing the philosophy that if something is worth doing, it is worth overdoing. Whether one sees that as fabulous or tacky may depend entirely on how much gold leaf and rainbow velvet one can tolerate in a single room.
Valerie M. Blake is a licensed associate broker in D.C., Maryland, and Virginia with RLAH @properties. Call or text her at 202-246-8602, email her at [email protected] or follow her on Facebook at TheRealst8ofAffairs.
