The last day of tour began in Kansas City, and I wish to remark upon a stroke of real fine luck. Prior to departing for St. Louis, I stopped in a coffee shop (let us not burn too much time contemplating the damage one might inflict on one’s carefully-crafted image as rustic steel-toed scribbler should it be determined that one took advantage of the wi-fi in an earth-toned establishment called Latte’Land) (furthermore  located next to the Tommy Bahama shop in the Country Club Plaza) (one did not have a latte’) (one did have the FTO Timor Emera) (French-pressed and mighty fine) (I own a pitchfork!) and caught up on some emails and thank you cards (yes, Mom, a postcard to every bookstore) and blog posts and such. Prior to leaving, I noted that the Timor Emera had infused my cerebrum with an audible hum and thus for purposes of recalibration I ordered a soothing and rehydrating herbal tea (essence of apple) (Steel toes! Pitchforks!) for the road. I had driven a remarkably hilly two blocks (including one right turn) before reaching for the tea and realizing I left it on the roof of the car.  Drawing the vehicle to a stop as gently as if my lap had been homesteaded by a bowl of steaming weasel soup, I climbed out to find that the tea was riding proud and I had just wasted one very powerful swear word. Enjoyed that tea half way to St. Louis and in light of all those times I’ve groused and kicked and pitched a fit when my absent-mindedness has produced less hortatorius effects, I resolved to Take Note and thus I share with you this my Tale of Triumph. A friendly group waited in St. Louis. When the last book was signed, the streets were filled with a bashing thunderous rain. Underway by 9:30 p.m., lightning in the rearview as I passed Busch Stadium.  Planned on one more Super 8, but by midnight I had the idea of home in my head and couldn’t shake it and thus this 2,185 tour loop ended in rural Fall Creek at 5:26 a.m., after 527 miles straight. The sun was pinking things up when I walked in the house. The family was asleep but the little fuzzballs above were scratching about in their plastic tub, doing me the favor of confirming that apple tea notwithstanding, we are still in the chicken business.

Stops on the second leg of the tour, thus far:

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