Harper & Co Real Estate, Barrie, ON (2026)

04/10/2025

Just because it's wood. Doesn't mean it's good.

If I had a dollar for every time I had to tell a client. That their oak trim wasn't doing them any favours when they wanted to sell.

Or their wood panelling basement.
Or their hollow core, dark wood doors from the 60's.
Or their honey oak vanity.

"But it's wood!" They exclaim. Exasperated by my advice. "They don't make it like this anymore," they say.

Sometimes, I'm able to hold back my retort of .. "and there's a reason for that."

And sometimes I'm not. 🤦🏻‍♀️

"Do you know how much that cost when we installed it?" I hear.
Yes. But when was that?

I'm not here to argue the merits of wood over laminate or mdf.

I'm just here to tell you that if you want the most money from your home, in the shortest period of time...

If anyone under the age of 50 is your target demographic...

If your trim or vanity or doors are older than said potential Buyer but not their great grandmother..

There's a solid chance I'm going to tell you to get it painted.
And you're going to be aghast! 😱

And I'm going to tell you that you're paying me for my advice. You really should take it. 😤

I've had ones that have. Feedback has always been positive. Their homes have sold for at or above market. Without exception.

They thanked me for telling them the hard truths.

I've had clients who haven't. Only to learn later. That all the trim and doors in question, were either painted or replaced by the new owners. Without exception.

They've thanked me for telling them the hard truths and regret not listening. Left to wonder how much more they might have gotten had they.🤔

My job is to tell you the hard truths. Your job is to trust me.

Neither works well without the other.

04/09/2025

I bartended for over a decade. In all the hot spots from Vancouver to Toronto. And many not-so-hot spots in between.

When I was working at The Blue Moose in Jackson's Pt. I met a great man. He and his wife would come in every Friday night without fail and would insist on my section. We became very close.

Roger was an animal lover. If he drove by roadkill he'd often not be able to fight back the tears. That kind of animal lover.

After a few years, Roger passed. After a short, but valiant battle with brain cancer. On the autumn equinox.

The first Christmas after, we were having holiday drinks with his wife Debbie. The conversation came round to how there was a stray cat or kitten really. That had been persistently trying to get into my house.

Despite my greatest efforts. This little guy would not be deterred.

"How old do you think he is?" Debbie asked.

"A few months maybe.." I explained.

"Maybe it's Roger." She offered a matter of factly. "You know if he came back it would be as an animal, and let's be honest he liked you best. So it makes sense he'd go to your house."

I was stunned. Speechless even. Then I laughed. No Way! Come on!

But when I got home from her place, there was the cat. He'd snuck into my garage and was waiting by the door. Looking up at me with huge, knowing eyes that seemed to know more than they should.

The thing about things you can't prove or disprove is.. What if? I know, I know. Definitely, probably not. As if?! Seriously. No way. Come on.

But what if?

So Roger lived with us until a ripe old age. He was well cared for. Well loved. And a wonderful listener.

Because... Just.. Well...What if?

What would you have done?

04/05/2025

As I look outside my mind goes back in time.

I lived deep in the forest, along the river's edge. The kind with deer, coyotes and the occasional orphaned raccoon.

It was April 2018. So the birds were back. The mammals done hibernating. The baby bunnies born.

Nature roared. It covered the land and the trees with an inch of ice that lasted days. My driveway blocked I hunkered in.

All was quiet at first.

On day 2 the animals began to stir. The birds began to squawk to each other. No food as far as they could see. No leaves. No berries. No hidden nuts. No garbage. Nothing. Just ice.

On Day 3 they came and asked for help.

The courage that must've taken. To venture not only out into the open. But to the place where the humans lived. I like to think they knew they could trust me. I am a vegetarian after all.

Maybe somehow they did. Or they just knew that they had to try. It was ride or die time. The robins had begun to fall from the trees.

The opossum came first. She climbed up on my patio table and looked straight in my kitchen window whilst I had my morning coffee. Our eyes met. I understood the assignment.

I put the content of the compost bucket out for her. She was ravenous. With a love of avocado that rivalled mine.

Then the rabbits. So out went the carrots and the celery.

That's when I saw the dead robins. My heart broke. I threw an entire bag of bird seed across my porch and yard.

The wild turkeys came right up to the door mat. Squirrels. Chipmunks. Even the deer. But the robins continued to drop.

I didn't understand. So I educated myself. Something I'd like more people to do about politics, history and the theory of economics right now. But I digress.

Robins can't chew most seeds. WHAT?! OMG! Who knew?! So out went all the berries, raisins, cranberries, mango, spinach. Anything. Everything from my fridge and freezer. I tossed it all.

They descended from the trees like Snow White in the forest. There was 30 if there was 3. They gorged on the buffet. Then the bunnies, squirrels, deers, turkeys, raccoons.

With supplies depleted, I ate Kraft Dinner.

But slept well.

In the little stone house in the woods where the wild things grow.

04/01/2025

#1 Question I get asked:

"Nanny? Gramma? Nana? Tell us! Inquiring minds want to know!

What is The Peanut going to call you?"

The Maja

And don't forget to include the "THE". Because I think that's what gives it its fire-breathing quality.

Followed inevitably by:

"The Maja? Why?"

Because death-slayer was taken!

Then the finale:

"Where does that come from? What nationality?"

Austin Powers - Ya Baby! "Hello Mazher, Hello Fazher"

After my teenage son saw Gold Member - some 20+ years ago - he started calling me that.

In a reverent, strike-fear-in-your-heart kind of way. Much like the reverse of when I would call him by his full name including the middle one.

And it stuck.

We knew way back then. That if / when the time came - The Maja I would be.

So much so that I was given this sweatshirt for Christmas. A month before The Peanut was hatched.

In Hindi "Maja" means joy, pleasure or zest.

In Greek mythology "Maja or Maia" means "The Good Mother"

The urban dictionary says it's slang for : an amazing woman who is intelligent and cute. Always there for you, funny; a bad bitch friend who is the kind of honest that can be considered rude. Usually is in trouble for speaking out in class.

Sounds like my son was on to something.

What do you think?

03/26/2025

I remember when I was a CPR Instructor. All the men would get fidgety, when I'd start talking about what it looks like when a man has a heart attack.

As a paramedic who had attended hundreds, I could spot it a mile away.

But as a bystander or a layperson, I'd explain, "It usually goes something like this.. you see him start to feel ..uncomfortable. he may squirm a lot in his chair. He'll scrunch his face and hold his upper abdomen. Sometimes the arm or shoulder. neck and jaw. Sweaty. Pale. Then ashen."

I went on. Eyes riveted on me. "But when you tell him you think he may be having a heart attack, he'll vehemently deny it. He'll make excuses that it's just the chili dog he had for lunch or heartburn. There's NO WAY he's having a heart attack. Not possible."

Because that would mean he was old.

But you don't actually have to be old to have a myocardial infarction.

Just like you don't actually have to be old to downsize.

I was speaking with a potential client the other day. Referred to me by a previous client. We were only about 10 minutes into the call when the truth started to come out. They had only called because their kids thought it was time for them to downsize.

They didn't think it was though. "We're not that old yet!" he said.

And there it was! Somewhere along the line, they got it into their head that only old people downsized. People who were too old to care for the place anymore. Too old to go up and down stairs. Too old to throw parties and host the holidays. Too old to.. well.. just too old.

"How old is old enough to start living? " I asked

How old do you think you need to be to retire? How old are you allowed to be tired of cutting the huge lawn?

How old should you be to go to Europe for a month? Costa Rica for a winter?

How old do you need to be to be mortgage free?

How old should you be to enjoy lunch with friends? Weekends with grandkids? Tuesday afternoon yoga classes? Wednesday morning golf?

How old is old enough to start living do you think? Because that's the perfect age to downsize.

Before you're too old.

03/25/2025

I’m by no means an expert. But I have some pretty glorious gardens.

Hydrangeas that bloom on new wood like limelights should be cut back in late winter or early spring.

I find they’ve been blooming early last couple of years.

My endless summer hydrangeas - that bloom on old wood - I never prune.

I got the front ones down. Still have the lakeside ones. I’ll tackle those this weekend.

Happy Spring! 🌷

03/24/2025

I know winter is likely to kick us again but I’m taking the win.

Had a great lunch at Shine in Orillia with my descendants.

Did a little shopping at my fave hippie store.

Had a treat at Mariposa Market.

Caught up with a friend.

And walked the main drag in my t-shirt.

That my friends is what we call a stellar feckin’ day!

Hope you enjoyed the sunshine too. ☀️

Now first fire of 2025. (Because it’s the first time I could find the firepit and chairs)

Cheers! 🍷

03/22/2025

I’m a big fan of storage lockers while you’re getting your house on the market.

It’s a great place to put furniture, Christmas decorations, snow tires etc when your home is being staged and photographed.

Hell I even pay for it as part of the Next Step Method.

But then that stuff needs to come home. Or it needs to go.

You keeping your kids stuffed animals there years after they’ve left home? Nope.

The stained wedding dress nobody will wear again? Nope.

Aunt Erma’s china set you never really wanted? Nope.

Downsized and need a little extra room for snow tires and Christmas decorations?

I feel you. And I think there is a savvy financial argument for spending a few hundred a month.

If it means you can buy a house worth hundreds of thousands less.

But there are scads of you who have way more house than you need.

Can’t park a bike in your garage, let alone a car.

AND rent a storage locker for the overflow.

People. If you have a legitimate need for the stuff. Go for it.

But if you just can’t bear to part with your late mother’s dining room set?

The sports equipment from a younger version of you, and a mattress that no one can lift?

You’re going to have to get rid of it someday. If today was the day.

Imagine how much lighter you’d feel tomorrow.

On your flight to Hawaii or Venice or Nepal or…

03/21/2025

Recently a friend and past client invited me to come watch her son’s hockey game with her.

Well.. she may have stopped by for a visit first. There may or may not have been some wine involved but alas back to the story.

As soon as I walked into the arena.. WHAM! It all came back! It almost knocked the wind out of me.

Both of my kids played hockey. My daughter was the OG of ELBOWS UP! Nobody ever had to teach her grit.

My son was the #1 goalie and the #1 goal scorer in the league in the same year.

The poor coaches could never quite decide where to best utilize his talent.

I couldn’t tell you how many games I went to. Hundreds.

More than 50 I bet wearing a paramedic uniform before or after a shift.

Every single one I possibly could. I can tell you that.

It’s a rite of passage here in Canada. The arena.

Waddling in half dressed with your equipment bag over one shoulder. Pads over the other. A stick in one hand. Parents with their cup of Timmy’s.

The end of the game buzzer. The Zamboni. The sound of just-sharpened blades taking to the fresh ice. The excitement in the kids’ voices.

It’s where they learned team work, sharing, cooperation, fighting. How to lose with pride. How to win with grace. How to fall. How to get back up.

It’s where parents said things like..

“That’s my boy!”

“Way to go!”

“That was a close one eh?”

“When he says turn it on, he really turns it on!”

“SHOOOOOT! Oh for the love of God!”

And my all-time fave...
“SSKAAAAAAAATE!”

The smell. The sounds. The cold. Climbing the benches to find a seat in front of a heater.

The clapping of gloved hands. The banging of the boards. The “schwack” of errant pucks hitting the glass. The ref’s whistle. The buzzer. The smiles.

Once a Hockey Mom. Always a Hockey Mom it would seem.

03/18/2025

Recently a friend and past client invited me to come watch her son's hockey game with her.

Well.. she may have stopped by for a visit first. There may or may not have been some wine involved but alas back to the story.

As soon as I walked into the arena.. WHAM! It all came back! It almost knocked the wind out of me.

Both of my kids played hockey. My daughter was the OG of ELBOWS UP! Nobody ever had to teach her grit.

My son was the #1 goalie and the #1 goal scorer in the league in the same year. The poor coaches could never quite decide where to best utilize his talent.

I couldn't tell you how many games I went to. Hundreds. More than 50 I bet wearing a paramedic uniform before or after a shift. Every single one I possibly could. I can tell you that.

It's a rite of passage here in Canada. The arena. Waddling in half dressed with your equipment bag over one shoulder. Pads over the other. A stick in one hand. Parents with their cup of Timmy's.

The end of the game buzzer. The Zamboni. The sound of just-sharpened blades taking to the fresh ice. The excitement in the kids' voices.

It's where they learned team work, sharing, cooperation, fighting. How to lose with pride. How to win with grace. How to fall. How to get back up.

It's where parents said things like..

"That's my boy!"

"Way to go!"

"That was a close one eh?"

"When he says turn it on, he really turns it on!"

"SHOOOOOT! Oh for the love of God!"

And my all-time fave...
"SSKAAAAAAAATE!"

The smell. The sounds. The cold. Climbing the benches to find a seat in front of a heater. The clapping of gloved hands. The banging of the boards. The "schwack" of errant pucks hitting the glass. The ref's whistle. The buzzer. The smiles.

Once a Hockey Mom. Always a Hockey Mom it would seem.

03/17/2025

The Irish have a saying..

Well they have a lot of feckin' sayings but one is... Luck is believing that you're lucky.

And I feel this in my soul.

Today after running a bunch of errands, I arrived at hot yoga, to realize that I had forgotten to bring any pants.

Yup. I know.

All the ladies in the change room commiserated with me. Looked in their bags for extras but to no avail.

"I'll go ask at the front. I'm sure they have something. I feel it." I said.

Believing that it would all work out, I sheepishly admitted my plight to the instructors.

"You're in luck! I've got some!" Krissy exclaimed, so pleased with herself. "I usually don't. But today, I do!"

The added bonus was they fit! Krissy is MUCH thinner than I. So that was a complimentary ego-boost. Like a cherry on top. Lucky.

I have my own feckin' saying. The harder I work, the luckier I get.

When other medics tell me how lucky I am to have "gotten out". Or other agents, to be so successful.

I think, there was no luck in it. I put in the work. I never stop learning. I never stop trying. I never stop striving. I never give up. I get up earlier. I stay up later. I believe I can do it.

I believe I am lucky. So "lucky" I am.

Others might call this the power of positive thinking. Or manifesting.

All I know is if I had slunked off defeated and never bothered to ask. Never believed I'd be lucky enough to find pants. Worried about the judgement of others.

I would have gone home pi**ed off at myself for my mistake and I would have missed out on precious time on my mat.

Well others might have. I personally would have just done it in my underwear.
F**k' it!

So I guess it was everybody else that was lucky today.

Happy St. Paddy's Day! I believe you're lucky. Today and every day. 🍀

03/13/2025

Capital is the amount of money you invest in something. Gains are the profit you make off said capital being invested.

A Capital Loss is when things didn't go well and you have less than when you started.

If you invest in the Stock Market, a GIC, Bonds etc. capital gains tax is payable on 50% of all your "gains" or profit. The other 50% is "exempt".

So if you invest $500,000 and make 10% or $50,000 you now have $550,000. A gain of $50k. So $25k would now be taxable at your tax rate or tier based on your income. It will often push you into a new tier.

But to keep it simple if you made $50k, 25K is tax free. The other $25k is taxable. If your tax rate is 40% you now owe $10k in taxes. So your net profit is really $40k more than when you started.

Still not a bad gig. And if you incurred expenses to make that money, you get to deduct them.

The Liberals were going to change this but it never got passed and isn't likely to now in light of the new PM and trade war.

But when you invest in real estate things get a little more complex.

If the property is NOT your primary residence. Say a rental property or a cottage. Maybe a condo for your kids to live in while they go to school. Capital gains tax applies. Meaning when you sell it, 50% of your profit minus expenses will incur tax.

Exactly like above.

But IF the property IS your primary residence. No tax will be incurred on any profits. So long as you've owned and lived in it for more than 1 year.

So if you own your house for 5 years. Sell it for $100k more than you paid. It's tax free gains.

Which is why moving often, but living in your property, is a great wealth builder in Canada.

It is also likely one of the biggest driving factors in why our housing is so expensive.

It's the only tax-sheltered place people have to invest money.

Clear as mud?

Reach out if you have questions about your particular situation. Or want to know how to change which property is your principal residence. 😉

Harper & Co Real Estate

04/10/2025

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04/05/2025

04/01/2025

03/26/2025

03/25/2025

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03/13/2025

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