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I’m reading a cool shipwreck research book called Sunken Treasure: How to Find it, by Robert Marx for PAX 3 . Suddenly I have the urge to throw my entire life away rush off to the Keys, pour my savings into a junky boat, and dive for pieces of eight. Is finding a lode of undersea treasure more or less likely than hitting the New York Times? I’m thinking more!!! And ahoy, me hearties, treasure hunting involves pirate lingo. And sexy pirates. Shiver me timbers (and me veins)! Prepare to be boarded!!!
Blow me down. My eleven-year-old just puked in the kitchen sink. (The scurvy rapscallion.) So apparently I am needed here. ARRRRRRRRRR!!!!!!!
Posted by Suzanne McMinn | Permalink
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"It was a cold wintry day when I brought my children to live in rural West Virginia. The farmhouse was one hundred years old, there was already snow on the ground, and the heat was sparse-—as was the insulation. The floors weren’t even, either. My then-twelve-year-old son walked in the door and said, “You’ve brought us to this slanted little house to die." Keep reading our story....
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