I've crossed three time zones in 24 hours, and I have to say I'm so tired I'm actually dazed, and the six days in Miami seem like they happened last year. But actually, just yesterday morning (Monday morning) I was walking along Highland Beach with my friend (professor, mentor, and model of someone who tries to practice the politics she preaches), Jane Caputi, who invited me to read at Florida Atlantic University. I hadn't seen Jane since 2003, when I invited her to participate in the Maquiladora Murders conference at UCLA, and I hadn't actually been in her space since before I left Albuquerque while still her student and dissertation advisee at UNM in 1991. All around it was a great visit. Gloria and I enjoyed meeting Roger and spending time in their beautiful condo filled with the sound of the surf, photographs of glaciers, and lots of Wicca iconography. I especially enjoyed cooking breakfast, frying up some bacon and tomatoes and real freshly-thawed New Mexico green chile scrambled into the eggs. You have to understand that at this point in the book tour when exhaustion hangs off you like a second shadow the memorable things are the homey things, the details of daily life that remind you of a more grounded existence. Had a very nice reading at Murder on the Beach bookstore on Sunday and at the Highland Beach library on Thursday as well, though some of the people who attended the library reading were not expecting their lovely late afternoon to be spoiled by my not-so-cheery presentation. The bookstore audience, gritty hard-cores that they are, really seemed to enjoy the presentation and we had a great discussion on the politics of NAFTA (and now CAFTA, too) and the essential vein of GREED that is at the core of so many of these crimes on the border. Returned to San Antonio late last night and I was at the airport again this afternoon to catch my flight to L.A. Tonight, I'm sitting here in Deena and Ellie's house waiting for my laundry to dry so I can get myself to bed and get ready to hit the pavement again tomorrow. Ah, the romantic life of a writer...

Yep, it's April 10th and my flight was scheduled to leave an hour ago and I'm still sitting in my jammies in Emma and Scarlet's house watching the snow accumulate in the backyard and being treated to signs from the Universe: a pair of red-shafted flickers appear out of nowhere, amazing orange light under their wings and spots of reddish-orange on their cheeks and at the back of their heads. Sophia, one of the cats, whom I call the sentinel of the snow because she's been watching it all day, entranced, not taking her eyes off the window except when she's harrassing me to give her some mayonnaise from my sandwich, calls our attention out the window and then suddenly one flicker appears and then another, and they both sit on the cable outside, balanced perfectly against the snowy wind, and give us a good long opportunity to be amazed by their presence. We know it's a sign from the Universe, so we look it up in Ted Andrews' ANIMAL SPEAK book, and sure enough, it's a powerful totem that came to both of us, signifying huge spiritual growth, healing, and the stimulation of all the chakras in the head. "...a catalyst for major creative changes in your life ... this totem can reflect a new balance coming into your life, regardless of the conditions...Flicker will awaken a new rhythm and the ability and opportunity to manifest all-healing love" (142-143). WOW! This sure does put a different spin on being "stranded in Denver in a blizzard." I would have missed that sign, if it hadn't been for the snow and the cancelled flights, and for Sophia staring so intently out on all that whiteness, teaching me how to sit still and wait for the Universe to answer my questions. I want to thank Scarlet and Emma for hosting me in their home and treating me to a fine example of healthy living.

One of the things I've been consistently amazed by is how much interest there really is out there to find out more about the Juárez murders, particularly at university campuses like this one. I guess my old pal, Arturo Aldama, director of Center for the Studies of Race and Ethnicity in America, wasn't expecting as heavy of a turnout as we had for the reading, but the room was jampacked, standing-room only, and then some. So, gracias Arturo and gracias especially to my good bud, Emma Pérez, chair of the Department of Ehtnic Studies, for organizing the event, especially now in the midst of all of your own media blitzing of Ward Churchill and institutional backlash against the department. Another thing I was extremely happy about was that the Raza Womyn student organization (phat thanks to Bernadette Garcia!) took the initiative to order the books directly from Arte Publico Press and turned it into a fundraiser for Amigos de las Mujeres de Juárez, who agreed to donate 40% of the booksales to Amigos. Since we sold out of books (and left a few people wanting) I am sure the Amigos folks are going to be very happy with the contribution. CU was my one and only gig in this neck of the woods because, even though Marina at Arte Publico (who's done a fabulous job organizing the book tour, by the way!) tried to get me a signing at either Tattered Cover or Cultural Legacy, the alternative bookstores in Denver, neither place responded to her various calls. I finally got in touch with someone at Tattered Cover, who kindly called me back, and informed me that "frankly, unless you're a big name with a big draw, we can't get anyone out to our events." GULP. Okay, fair enough, but I tell her the issue is an important issue and that there's much interest in the topic of the Juárez murders, and she says, "well, maybe in your area." DOUBLE GULP. At Cultural Legacy I am treated to a fascinating story about how much the bookstore owner has done for Latina literature, and she mentions that she did order my book though doesn't remember getting any calls from Arte Publico, but she doesn't ask me to sign any stock.

Went back to my second alma mater to read for the Department of Spanish and Portuguese at UNM, thanks to my old profe, Tey Diana Rebolledo, who organized the event. Lots of students and lots of questions. Two interesting moments of synchronicity occurred. First, a young woman came up to have her book signed and told me her cousin's name was Mireya and that she worked in a maquila in Juárez, and I had just read Mireya's chapter in the book. A second and even wierder thing was that another woman gave me the name of a Father Frank who works at the Sacred Heart Church in El Paso and ministers, among other things, to prisons. She didn't realize that my Father Frank in the novel also is from the Sacred Heart Church. I reassured her that my Father Frank is not the same person, but it's an eerie thing, nonetheless. All she wanted to know was whether the Father Frank in my novel was a good priest or a bad priest. I guess you have to read the book to decide. Sold out of books again.

First off, I have to thank Carlos Vásquez for inviting me to read at the NHCC again. Last year I did a presentation on Sor Juana Inés de la Cruz for their "Dia del Libro" event and the audience was, to put it mildly, shocked and scandalized by my sapphic Sor Juana argument, but we had a great discussion nonetheless and sold lots of copies of SOR JUANA'S SECOND DREAM. Same thing happened this year. Great audience, great discussion about the Juárez crimes, and sold lots of copies of DESERT BLOOD. The highlight of the evening was seeing my old friend, New Mexican salsera de aquellas, Ivon Ulibarri there with her girlfriend, la Rosie (if you've never heard them perform with their band Café Mocha you are seriously missing one of the great musical pleasures in life). They were of course very surprised to find out that the name of my protagonist is Ivon Villa, spelled the same way as Ivon Ulibarri spells her name. You just never know when a writer is going to steal something from you; your name, an anecdote, even a sentence can be lifted right off your lips and be inserted into a writer's story in progress, so watch out: that person writing quietly in her journal at a Starbucks may be listening to your conversation and helping herself to your drama...sorry, I got off track. The point is, yes, of course I used Ivon because of Ivon, because it's a great butch name and Ivon is one of those great old-school butches full of talent and passion and conciencia. So, belatedly, thanks Ivon for lending me your name. We had a great dinner at the Frontier afterwards, best carne adovada burritos in Albuquerque.