Sourdough Pizza and the House of my Dreams

SMELLS LIKE A WINNER! YUM!

Fixin' Leaks and Leeks

IMG_4748 Sourdough pizza. Photo by Cecilia Kennedy

In my dreams, I’m flitting about in yoga pants that sparkle like sapphires—and the entire house is made of pizza.  I glide over to the living room and fearlessly take a huge bite out of a load-bearing wall. Then, Nate and Alex walk through the front door after a hike, and I have to tell them to remove their shoes so that they won’t ruin the tasty pizza floors. After removing their shoes, they ask:

“What’s for dinner?”

And, in my dreams, my super-powers of sassiness intensify. In shiny, sassy splendor, I tell them: “For crying out loud! We live in a pizza house! Can’t you just help yourselves to the roof every once in a while?”

And that’s when I wake up, chewing on bedsheets, dangling from the dresser, and shouting, “Follow me to the roof!”

My dreams only vaguely resemble reality on…

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About Jonathan Caswell

Mr. Caswell has been composing poetry at least since High School. He has been on WORD PRESS for ten years and contributes to two other blogs beside this one. This blog has a Christian emphasis but all bloggers are welcome. Mr. Caswell chooses to---with permission--re[post material of interest

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