Right now, sitting at my kitchen counter, the reflections of the street lights on the bayou, Loca on the couch (you can’t see her, she’s black, the couch is black), Arlene licking my bare toes, a glass of Crios rose iced down, the ceiling fans whirring, a certain something in the air that it is all going to be okay, or better than that, it’s all going to continue to be fabulous, and the best part – I’ve never spent Halloween, Thanksgiving or Hanukkah or Christmas or New Year’s at the LaLa and I have all of that ahead of me to look forward to – tonight, at this moment in time, I am the luckiest woman on the planet – and so are the jumping beans that are twitching on the counter.