I begin to feel it in the air as the plane circles over the Sandia Mountains, a combination of excitement and relief.  I am home.  Driving down 25, I feel all this space around me, and with that space, the freedom to be myself.  Walking along the irrigation ditches in the village Corrales just outside of Albuquerque with my old friend Garon Bodor, heading towards the sandy blank left by the Rio Grande, I take my shirt off because I'm hot.  It doesn't matter.  Later (shirt on), we pass a man cutting river cane, and we gather a few stalks to give to the kids.  At The Flying Star restaurant, a couple of cowboys hitch their horses to the post and take a table.  

Wonderful reading at Bookworks last night.  Great crowd.  On to Santa Fe today to walk around the plaza, stop by bookstores to sign stock, and then tomorrow morning, communal baths at Ten Thousand Waves.

I'm grateful for my family and friends and for this great land.