La casa de mis sueños: The house of my dreams; that's what my Spanish lesson was about a couple of weeks ago. (note: I'm going undercover in a couple of adult extension courses as a novice in Spanish and Computers, both to accompany my cousins, and just for the fun of it!)

I loved the theme of the lesson:  we were asked to write a story describing our dream house. Provenza, our teacher, wanted to know about furnishings, mostly, but of course, I had to take it to another level, and take my 'mates down the road of one of my many, but interesting, digressions.

You see, since my childhood, I've had a recurring dream about the family home.My dream house always 'changes', but yet somehow, the house is always immediately identifiable as 'home'. It is always huge, estate-like: multiple levels and wings and corridors. Separate living quarters for my parents, for me, and for my sister's family (it was through these dreams that I always knew my sister would have just two children: an older boy and younger daughter. Spooky)

Traveling throughout the dream house is always an adventure, because I never know who or what will be added: this is the part that always changes. But always, we are there together, irrevocably interlocked, family. Well, that's the way it is en la casa de mis sueños. What about you?