Last week, I received an email from a writer at The Sun. He wanted to feature me in an upcoming article--This Article. I'm American. I had never heard of The Sun. I did what any clueless millennial would do, I asked Wikipedia. According to Wikipedia--the expert on everything, ask any millennial--"The Sun is a tabloid newspaper published in the United Kingdom..." Now, I've taken a class or two on journalism, so I'm familiar with the textbook definition of tabloid. As a matter of fact, I think anyone who has stood in a supermarket line behind a coupon-wielding grandma is familiar with the term....

I saved $291 in fuel, 6 pit stops at questionable country gas stations, 2728 miles on my odometer, and 40 hours of children screaming in the backseat. I’ve always wanted to visit Washington. I probably would have preferred sipping a cup of medium roast in a hipster coffee house to three weeks of constant rain… but I’ll take what I can get. Whether the recent rain was a result of the untimely passing of Prince, May compensating because April was snoozing on the whole April Showers, or a storm track hovering over the Mid-Atlantic… we may never know. One thing is for certain: We’ve had a record...

I had this boss once. Granted, I've had a few bosses... but this boss instilled in me a great a wisdom. Besides encouraging me to read The Seven Habits of Highly Effective People--which I still reference from time to time--this boss equated my job to the act of spinning plates. I had to keep all the plates spinning--the salespeople, the collateral, the leads, and the quarterly pipelines. I could have taken my act to Atlantic City. Since then, I've shuffled positions in the same company. I'm no longer a corporate plate spinner--at least not like I used to be. I am--however--still spinning...

On my Facebook page of the same name, I recently shared a story with the headline: Houstonian finds $2 million worth of civil-war era jewelry unearthed from recent flood. As you can probably guess, curiosity got the better of me. Stories like this fuel my digging addiction. I anticipate the day that I find my hoard of civil-war era jewelry. (I'm pretty sure its waiting for me on Fickel Hill.) In the story by KRBC News--which happens to be an affiliate out of Houston--a young woman "battling severe debt and hospital bills was unsure what to do... after everything the flood took from her."...

I'm not a television person. As a matter of fact, I come from a long line of not television people. I know this because I recently interviewed my grandparents on the subject for a college paper. My grandfather bought his first television with money earned from selling eggs to local businesses. Despite owning a television, it was never a fixture in their lives. They were too busy milking cows and dairy farming. I suppose the TV was more of an accessory than an necces-ory in their lives. Dad still recalls the novelty of family movie nights when everyone gathered in the living room to watch Walt...

Last week, my cousin wrote about the bond she shares with her digging partner (husband). After reading her post, I started thinking about the bonds I've made with both digging partners and property owners alike. If you're a regular follower of this blog or happen to watch my videos, you've probably realized that I have a lot of digging partners. There's Roman, Bill, Mike, Duane, Ed, Ciara, Don, Brandon, and Aaron... to name a few. For a few weeks last year, I even dragged my husband and kids along on my adventures. In all honesty, I'm not all that picky about who I'm digging with as long...

In season one of BBC’s The Detectorists (spoiler alert), Andy and Lance end up in quite the dispute when Andy decides to dig with Sophie. A big no-no! While I haven’t been detecting as long as many others, I completely related to this moment. (My husband often tells me I laugh way more than anyone should during that show, but that’s neither here nor there.) The point is, once you have a dig partner, a.k.a. my husband, it’s almost imperative that you dig with them and only them. This may not be true of every digging partnership, but there’s almost something sacred and special about it. You question...

Since I started metal detecting, I've met fellow diggers from all reaches of the country and even the world. On occasion, I'll get a private message from someone jabbering at me in Arabic... to which I respond with a confused ice-cream emoticon. They'll reciprocate with photos of ancient coins... to which I respond with another more surprised, but equally confused ice-cream emoticon. I've mastered the art of carrying on entire conversations through the use of emoticons. Admittedly, I'll sometimes pass the phone off to my two-year-old and let her correspond with whatever stickers she deems...

I'm sure most of you are familiar with the term cold-calling. Back before cellphones and social media, the sales tactic was a lot more prevalent. I remember my parents leaving the phone off the hook during supper time, because those quick-talking life insurance salesmen would call at the exact moment we sat down to the dinner table. (Did I mention this was before caller id? Wait, is caller id still a thing? Let me clarify for the younger millennials.... because apparently, I'm still considered a millennial. Back in the day, there was no way of knowing who was calling--which is why the cold-calling...

My kids love books. Over the years, I've introduced them to a few of my childhood favorites: Goodnight Moon, There Was An Old Lady Who Swallowed a Fly, Go, Dog. Go! and--of course--Green Eggs and Ham. The trick to reading these books has always been reciting them as quickly as possible--well, quick enough to elicit giggles from my two adorable hellions. Quite frankly, I've read these books so many times that I've committed them to memory. I could quote them in my sleep... or in a boat or with a goat... I could quote them in the rain or I could quote them on a train... I could quote them...