Did you hear about the “wrong address” house construction fiasco in Hawaii? Annaleine Reynolds, a Big Island property owner, purchased an empty lot several years ago. Later, a local developer who owned an adjacent property hired a contractor to build a family home. But before breaking ground, neither the contractor nor the developer surveyed the property — and they built the house on the wrong lot.

I have not been very good at investing financially for the future. Linda and I are now playing catch-up for the day when we’ll be too old to work for our income. But neither of us regret it.

James Kane and Barbie Agostini have an interesting hobby they enjoy doing together. They throw a strong magnet, attached to a rope, into local New York ponds to see what they come up with. Last month, they received more than they were prepared for. Their magnet attached to something that was so big and heavy they could barely move it. They eventually pulled a locked safe out of Corona Park pond, and, after opening it, discovered over $100,000 inside.

Last weekend after Family Camp, Linda and I went with Nicole and our granddaughters to a place a few miles from The Woods, called Pioneer Village. It was a step back in time.

It’s a collection of 19th-century buildings, most of which moved were from their original spots around Ozaukee and Washington counties, to form this little village of 1st-century European immigrant pioneer homes, barns, and public buildings.

The Pinakothek der Moderne is a world famous art museum in Munich, Germany. They recently reported a crime, but it was the opposite of a heist. Someone snuck their own artwork into the museum and put it on display alongside the prized paintings of Pablo Picasso and other modern masterworks.

It was an inside job by an employee. He was promptly fired and turned in to the police. It was a crime, and the man is being charged.

Why such a big deal? He didn’t take anything!

Years ago, Brock and I were sitting in our living room reading and Brock had his music playing. I was listening to the lyrics and thought, “That doesn’t sound good.” So I said to Brock, “What kind of song is that? ‘I want you to pull my britches down’?”

“What? No, Dad, it’s, 'I want you to burn my bridges down!’”