QUOTE(mags @ May 28 2007, 07:44 PM)

It sure is a lovely house, HA.

I have to say that there are some gorgeous houses around here too, many of them really old. My hubby and I live in just about the oldest standing house (Federal style) in our little 10,000 people city, it was built around 1838.
We are currently doing it up, gonna be a long old project, but it'll look soopa once it is finished.
I love looking at old houses, you'll have to keep us posted on what you eventually buy over here!
School quality is the most important issue for us since we're going to send our future sprogs to public school. The house I showed you is in the catchment area for some of Dallas's finest public schools. Strangely enough, the local high school was rated 'academically unacceptable' even though its standardized test scores are very high. It got the unacceptable rating because the performance of one ethnic group was below par. The new TEA guidelines seem to be REALLY strict.

The locals consider it the best traditional public high school in the city.
I would LOVE to be able to live in old East Dallas, where a lot of the homes were built from 1900-1950 and you can still walk to the shops. Some areas have a lovely small-town feel. Unfortunately, EVERYBODY is after that location and prices have skyrocketed. I'm almost praying for a recession or real estate mini-crash to put the brakes on prices in Dallas...which are forecasted to have risen by 10% by the time we're ready to buy. That'll put that house closer to $450k.
Basically, I don't want to end up in treeless McMansion suburban hell with snooty b!tchy neighbors who are all SAHMs who drive Ford Expeditions and pledged some second-rate sorority and got psychology degrees from some sh!t school like Sul Ross State looking down on me. Maybe I'm a snob at heart but what I really REALLY want is to be with my own kind in Dallas proper...y'know, people who read books and don't laugh at fart jokes and don't watch NASCAR, where every third girl on the street ISN'T named some variant of MIKAYLA. Where people won't sarcastically coo "Well la dee DA" when I tell them I have a French degree. Where every neighbor isn't cursed with a gut the size of a beach ball lapping over poorly-fitting belted khaki shorts, showing off legs that look like big giant white funnels stuffed into $150 trainers that aren't used for any kind of athletic activity.