Getting my eye back

Don't ask me why these keys are called the Saddle Bunches. I like the name, and the fact that whenever I see them off to the right on the Overseas Highway we're coming home.

Speaking of which, I've set up a sort of zen office upstairs in the loft -- Robert's computer is ensconced in the office closet in the den, and he has no tolerance for the kind of peripherals it takes for me to transfer photos from memory card to computer to net -- so I have my new laptop on an old wine crate up here, and a great view of the street as I sit lotus-style on the carpet.

Just to my right is the loft railing, with one of Arnold's pineapple cutouts giving me a peek into the dining room below and reminding me of every bit of love that went into the house. Above are the house's original collar ties, hand-hewn in the 1880s or earlier, and adapted from heaven knows where, because they have odd notches and bevels. To the left there's storage -- our ladder, a big feather mask for Fantasy Fest, empty luggage: essential Key West.