The flight home yesterday (through Washington and Denver, naturally) seemed almost as the trip out, but I made it eventually. My emotionally needy cat ignored me for the first twenty minutes or so, then spent the rest of the night following me everywhere I went. My birds, for their part, just seemed happy to resume their lifelong mission of trying to bite off my fingers.
I slept long and well in the best bed in the world, which is to say, my own. The cat sleeping on my legs was only a minor distraction. I spent most of today resting, recovering, and watching everything my tivo has recorded over the last month (I still have a ways to go on that one). I had most of a sourdough baguette for lunch, and in the afternoon Mom asked me to go out and check on the horses, since there'd been word that Casey had come up lame. So I was hiking up the hill to the upper pasture, on a warm day, under a bright blue sky with just a bit of a breeze, and I thought: California isn't really such a bad place to come home to. Even if you have to leave Key West.
Blogging will probably become lighter now that I don't have anything to say. (Not that I've ever let that stop me before.) I've got a bunch of pictures to post, and I'll try to get them up in the next week or so. Then who knows? Maybe something interesting will happen. Probably not, though. I think I've used up my quota of 'interesting' for a while.