In honor of Talk Like a Pirate Day, today I ditched the car and spent some four or five hours treasure hunting on foot.  During the course of said treasure hunt, I encouraged my young swashbuklers to mess with the fountain while I daydreamed of my book-bound friends’ celebration of Pirate Day, fed the whole crew fried chips and fish for lunch, and came away carrying bags of loot swiped beneath the unsuspecting eyes of misguided merchants.

Or, as some would say, dropped off the car to be worked on and went shopping while we waited.  But, hey, who’s going to call me on it?

After all, as the Pirate Laws will tell you, it’s the pirate way to stretch a yarn until it’s spun like the finest silver.  A few of the other laws are pretty good, too.  Number 61 seems to be universally upheld in our family, and I think our son’s strongly considering adopting number 52.  I’d be delighted if we could all adopt number 36, as well, so long as it was understood that I am a lass, not a wench.

Then again, number 70 trumps them all.  Pirates never obey laws, rules, regulations, or codes of conduct!  Although I’ve heard that they’ll sometimes honor a ‘guideline.’

Arrrrrrr!