Every which way

Well, that was a week.

Robert blew into town last weekend, sans gels, and soon had to admit that Key West is a little more humid than Tennessee, especially packed into air conditioning that totals about 9 by 12.

But a little sweat didn't dim his vision -- he picked up instantly on a mistake in framing a bathroom door -- or slow down his whiz around town to measure bed frames, check on closet fixtures, or deliver wind-insurance checks.

All of which must have whetted our our appetites: memorable dinners at Trattoria, Alice's, the Half Shell, Carmine's. . . .

Alas, it was over too soon, and he flew on to a first birthday party for his youngest grand-niece -- ultimately going to get Holly Hill ready for a big Labor Day house party -- and leaving me to sweat.