A moment at an open house that reminded me why people fall in love with floating homes: I was hosting an open house this morning when I caught it on video, a slow pan across the living room, out the window, and there it was. A seal. Just hanging out in the water like it was nothing. For me, growing up here, it is nothing. Or at least, it's normal. Seals show up the way squirrels show up in a backyard somewhere else. The birds in the morning, the slap of water against the dock

My kids never had a grass backyard. What they had was the bay — and honestly, I think they got the better end of that deal. Growing up on the floating homes means growing up close to something real. The seasons don't change through a window; you feel them. The water is cold in January and alive in July. The stripers run in the fall. You learn these things not because someone tells you, but because you're out there with a rod in your hand before school, or hanging off the dock

In 1985 I bought this houseboat for $48,100 with $7,500 and a loan from someone who didn't take missed payments lightly. It was sinking. I rebuilt it from scratch. This is where it all started.

Building a custom floating home in Sausalito from scratch takes more than most people expect. Ten years of permits, a cross-bay tow, and a sleepless night before launch. This is how it came together.