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There’s a running joke with my family and friends who have assisted with the demolition of our house.  We quip quite frequently that somewhere, hidden inconspicuously in the walls is a pile of gold just waiting to be retrieved.

No one can say that we haven’t tried our darnedest to find it.  Nearly every wall in the house has been taken down or otherwise modified.  Nothing more than old cellulose tumbled down with the plaster.  That and a steak knife but that’s another story.


All of that changed when I decided to paint the door between the kitchen and the back porch.  The door handle needed some attention so I removed it and began smearing the door with a thick, neutral ivory.  Halfway down the door, I sat on an empty bucket and came face to face with the dirty door knob gap.


I cringed at all of that grime but before I looked away, I noticed a small coin in the back.  I scooted it to the front with a screwdriver and found . . .


. . . a dime!  I suspect some curious child slipped it through the lock slot and forever lost their ten cents.  It didn’t exactly make us wealthy but I’ll take whatever I can find.  I think I’ll put it in our home improvement fund . . .


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True stories of raising children, remodeling, braving the elements and plotting out life, all while living on a humble acreage in central Indiana.

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