in which I take time out to recover from naboplomo and life

I didn't expect my Post-NaBloPoMo silence to last this long but Things Happened.

Things like Z's thrity-third birthday. And mad industrious insanity at work whereby I supported clients and colleagues alike, while planning four Christmas Parties for communities we work with (while by a stroke of genius managing to be on annual leave for three of them; days off have never tasted sweeter). And lying about on the bed whimpering in pain because my joints hurt and life was unfair blah blah blah. And finally going off to Tenerife for a week for the Most Needed Holiday Of The Year, or Possibly This Lifetime, My God.

In our absence, the Handsome Administrator from work agreed to come sit on my home and my cats and on our return we discovered that lo! not only were the critters present and correct, but also that the house hadn't burned down although it was cleaner than we had ever made it. I want the Handsome Administrator to come live with me forever, for obviously his are the ways of righteousness.

Tenerife was wonderful. Z and I trotted out our pidgin Spanish, and stuffed our extremeties with as much food, and drink and sleep and sightseeing as the shackles of humanity would allow. I experienced some of the most beautiful things ever (dolphins and whales swimming in the wild, mist-cloaked woods that offered up pathways and begged us to follow, a sky strewn with a million zillion burning stars) and also one of the most frightening (of which more later).

We came, we saw, we photographed (sweet gods, did we ever) and we flew home today on the arms of a spectacular sunset that seemed to stretch into infinity.

(Pictures are forthcoming, as soon as I sort out more sleep, and a FlickPro account).