home from mexico

Maybe it wasn't the most relaxing trip ever, but it was beautiful... Got stuck in Houston for two days on the way down over a couple of snow flurries and a lot of Continental Airlines lies & incompetence.

Finally busted out of the airport to go to free night at the Houston Children's Museum and stay at the lovely ho-mall Travelodge totally not on the airline's dime.

But on the third day we finally flew away to Mexico City, and flew again, and landed in Oaxaca, and we ran from the little airport and told the taxi driver to please hurry because the baby's grandmother was waiting for him in the church. We made it in time for the last mass on Guadalupe day and presented him to the Virgin... He was the only gringo Juan Diego there. All blessed with his eyeliner mustache.

And then the writing workshop! And twelve witchy women with wild and true stories of love and church and the violence of life.

And the power of literature because even when they weren't true we believed them. And we believed in them.

And there is more. But I am just home. And it is snowing. And I am tired and want some more coffee. And it seems that all the pictures of Mexico are pictures of Max...