Snark was met with a disturbing present this morning from one of the cats (presumably from Diamond): a mess of feathers and two claws. I didn't see it. I was still in bed, waking from a dream where Snark had been showing me a giant specimen of rock.

I'm listening to "Cheyenne," my favorite song by Dylan Charles, who we got to see play last night. He'll be around Bisbee for the rest of the month and then he's off to the Eastern states again. When we first heard Dylan's CD, Time for Breakfast, we thought he was a musician in his 50s, but actually he just turned 27 years old. He's pretty versatile with his music styles, but he seems to lean toward easy, twangy, folky and bluesy when we've seen him play live.

Well, we're almost done with the old house... just have the bathroom to clean, the kitchen floor, and under the stove, fridge, and washer; then we can say we've completely moved out.