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'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...

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...

It all started with a slag glass ceiling lamp–not the slag glass lamps made by Tiffany and Steuben. This was the lamp you'd expect to find hanging from the textured spackle ceiling in grandma's dining room. I know what you're thinking--ugly. I’ll give you that, but to each his own. I’ve been in this lifestyle long enough to know that collectors come in ALL shapes and sizes. Slag Glass Ceiling Lamp On that fateful summer day, I asked my mom to join me on a yard sale adventure to find cheap clothes for my one-year-old. We had a late start that morning, something I have since learned...

In case anyone forgot the Merriam-Webster definition of a hobby, allow me to provide a quick refresher... a hobby is defined as an activity done regularly in one's leisure time for pleasure. With that being said, let me be very clear... I dig for me. I write for me. If you'd like to follow my adventures--regardless of how fruitful the discoveries--than I'm just tickled pink, but if you're going to be that heckler on the sidelines... then move along already. I apologize for opening on such a sour note, but I had a moment of weakness yesterday. I hate to admit this, but I actually considered...

Last month, I took you on a journey through a schoolhouse crawlspace. If you read that post, you probably realized that I'm not all that particular in my pursuit for treasure. I'll explore a dusty crawlspace, pick through a bottle dump, wade through a creek for antique china fragments, or pace across a manicured yard with my Makro Racer. I consider myself a metal detecting hobbyist, though I suppose I'm a little bit of everything--thrift-shop picker, bottle digger, crawlspace explorer, and history hunter extraordinaire. I'm woman of many hats... as long as those hats don't flatten my hair...

My mother-in-law loves telling the story of "Jocelyn and the Moth." The story goes a little like this... One crisp autumn morning in 2011, our small family of three combined forces with my husband's family of four. The seven of us piled snugly into the Ford Explorer and set off on a grand leaf-peeping adventure. My brothers-in-law--both Mark and Neal--were crammed into the back. Billy and I sandwiched our little guy's carseat in the center. Julie sat shotgun. Bill drove. (This was before he lost his fight with ALS in 2013.) Given that this was early October, the leaves had yet to reach...