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...

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."...

We all have that property that we gawk at but can never muster the courage to approach. For the longest time, my unapproachable permission was a brick farmhouse on a hill. I drove by this house every day for years, but something held me back. Instead of asking for permission and facing the possibility of rejection, I'd settled for thinking that I could get permission. I'm almost positive that I'm not the only hobbyist who thinks this way. We all have that unapproachable permission that we silently salivate over... A few weeks ago, I had been poking around the remains of the Fickel House...

We had a rough week. While my kids suffered through a nasty stomach bug, I suffered through the final days of Comm 101. The good news is, I survived the class--the same class I'd been putting off since I started working towards my Associates Degree in 2008. The topic of my speeches, you ask? Well, metal detecting, of course: http://www.youtube.com/embed?listType=playlist&list=UU9D3lVCpT6kljc61gm6h_Yg So in the midst of completing my final assignments, I fell into the role of Dr. Mom--cuddling on the couch, watching a million-and-one episodes of Sesame Street, and cleaning partially digested...

On Saturday, I had the privilege of introducing a friend and her teenage daughter to the hobby of metal detecting. Their passion was so refreshing. Not many people get excited for digging iron, but these two special ladies were over the moon when they dug up a square nail at eight inches--with screwdrivers nonetheless. In my experience, digging eight inches with a screwdriver to recover an iron something-or-other is commitment. Allow me to back up... this escapade was prompted when Liz requested a retreat from a personal hardship. And in my experience, there is no better distraction from an emotionally-draining...