Still foggy, but it's dawn

Shirley died four weeks ago today, and it's time to pick myself up and dust myself off.

It's not as if we haven't been doing anything. There was a wonderful funeral (who would have expected those two words together -- but with Shirley, who could have expected otherwise?).

There were heartwarming times with Ray, and the kids and granddaughters -- even laughter and splashes in the pool.

There were daily reminders of the hole she left in our lives, and of the whole she made them.

Sunset, sunrise.

Robert went down to Key West to show Harry -- his bridge buddy and our CPA -- around town, welcome Sharon and the boys for a few days around their camp-out in the Dry Tortugas and get ready for Ray to go down next week.

He and Shirley had planned the trip down for months, and Ray and his son Jeff will go instead. I hope it will be a little solace in paradise.

And maybe some cool weather: Here in Tennessee, the car thermometer read 102 today when I took Mom to lunch at Cafe Roma, ran into Ann McCoin (who's handling Shirley's estate; she also did my dad's and John Gray's) and had some terrific vermicelli with pancetta.

And the other news is . . . the windows.

Monday must have been slow in Key West, because Mandy Bolen called to ask where our case stood. Ain't heard nothin', I told her -- which was at the top of Page One Tuesday.

Then: The Building Department called Tuesday afternoon to say our permanent, final Certificate of Occupancy was ready. Robert picked it up Wednesday, and we are now legal, even with outlaw windows. Clerks have blessed the paperwork to refund our substantial performance bond and, as the saying goes, the check is in the mail.

I don't know how, or why. The city still hasn't told me what gives, and whether our victory before the special magistrate sets a precedent for the rest of Old Town.

When I find out, I'll let you know. I'm back.