Pale gray twilight outlines the leafless black trees. I hear the blues coming from the living room where Bruce is setting up his ultimate iPod playlist. I sit in my studio, waiting for paint to dry and drinking a glass of champagne, looking out at wintry dusk. Barry is in Durango, and I imagine him missing Bandy and dreaming of his new Chum Bucket Red Karate Monkey bicycle, which is schedule to arrive any day now. We are reasonably happy, healthy, and productive. I am tremendously grateful for this life.