Back in the heady days of the Mauian homesteading, your Plunger of a bright Hawaiian dawn unsteadily dials the enormous number of digits required to ring a telephone in Cousin Richard’s flat in Paris.* Half a world away, no less. Ring.* No answer.* As we say in the phone trade, RNA. Odd, The Plunger recalls himself... [Click Here to Continue Reading]
Click here for original DeeperBlue.com Blog Entry...
Click here for original DeeperBlue.com Blog Entry...