We're closing on our townhouse next week and we can finally go back to being single home owners. I won't get into the details, but there were quite a few bumps. Any fantasy I ever had of owning a getaway home in the mountains has been dashed. I am a one-home woman.
I'm putting out the last call for poets (and any writer, really) to appear in the 2011 Reb Livingston Poet Dream Anthology. Last year I put out this call and several people inquired about sending poems. This isn't a poem anthology, it's a poet anthology. The way you get in is that you have to appear in one of my dreams *and* I have to remember the dream when I wake. If you're feeling dream shy, you can send a dream message or have one of your buddies appear and reference you in a dream. It all counts.
If you do make it into my dream anthology, accept the honor with grace and don't hassle me about your specific details. Every year I say this and every year people hassle me. The truth is, I have demented dreams and you really don't want to know. It's all fun and games until I divulge that when I found your rotting corpse my emotional response was relief and happiness. While I understand that your corpse stands for a shitty attitude I associate with you and also share myself, you're going to be creeped out and possibly paranoid about your impending doom. What if I really am 40% psychic like I claim? You don't want to find out.
In and around our new home we come across a lot animals and critters that we didn't in the old house. Hawks, owls, frogs (er, Chris keeps correcting me, it's TOADS) and last night, in our home, a salamander! As I told Chris, this is a clear sign that we need to evolve in our lives.