The air wafting through my window right now is wonderful. This is my seventh June in Tucson and only the second time I've experienced a foretaste of the monsoon that lingered through the evening. When I was lying on our old sofa after dinner, lazily watching Skylar perform her trampoline bounces to West Side Story, I would periodically turn my head to watch the clouds flicker yellowly against the fast-moving gray of the post-thunderstorm sky, feeling totally blissed out. Shantih, Shantih, Shantih. . .