February: Crossing the Border
A sojourn in San Miguel de Allende, a gala event, a manuscript completed, and a medical adventure approaching
February is the border between winter and spring. ~Terri Guillemets, "Outlines of joy," 2002
It’s not my favorite month, February.
True, it’s not January anymore, which is a relief, but it’s still winter. And by now, with the holidays firmly behind us, winter is like that relative you’re obligated to include in the party, the one who’s quirky and fun for a while. But who doesn’t know when it’s time to leave.
Especially this year, in snow-drought-stricken southern Idaho.
Some days have been blessed with the achingly blue skies and crystalline sunlight that only late winter offers. But more of them have been dreary, the sky dull and weighted by overcast, the landscape drained of color.
For a short month, February lasts a long time.
And this particular February has contained a whole lot.
With my husband’s planned surgery looming (more on that later), the January - February borderland seemed like a good time to get outta Dodge.
We’d long wanted to visit San Miguel de Allende, a city in the highlands of central Mexico famed for its culture and wildly colorful, well, everything. So we hopped on a plane (well, two planes) and crossed the border.
And indeed, it was balm for the world-and-winter-weary soul.
San Miguel de Allende, or as the thriving American and Canadian expat community refers to it, SMA, is a jewel box of a town. Its cozy warren of narrow, cobbled streets meander among connected, parti-colored walls draped with bougainvillea.
As we picked our cautious way along the rough, 18” wide sidewalks, every few feet we’d be enchanted by a door opening onto a stunning courtyard, a tempting eatery, or an art gallery.
The historic center of SMA sits at an elevation of 6200 feet, the same as Lake Tahoe. From there, it rises to altitudinous neighborhoods ranged along streets of lung-burning steepness, at least for us flatlanders. We were humbled, as we puffed our way uphill, to be passed by locals out for their daily runs.
Note to prospective visitors: all the guidebooks to the city recommend sturdy shoes, and they’re not kidding. A friend of ours who lived in San Miguel for several years warned us that one of its nicknames is The City of Fallen Women.
We walked (carefully) between five and eight miles a day, sometimes with a destination in mind and sometimes only to absorb the sights and sounds. The town is studded with art, and culture practically exudes through the cobbles.
We spent a day and a half exploring Fabrica La Aurora, a former textile factory that now houses galleries and cafés, all alluring. Enchanted, we bought a painting from a local artist. From where I sit as I write, I can let my eyes rest on its dreamy palette of blues, purples, and subdued yellows.
Rooftop bars proliferate all through SMA, with stunning sunset views. The food is amazing, and if you’re of the vegan persuasion, you’ll have no trouble finding mouthwatering options.
I did, however, politely pass on the roasted ants and worms offered as additions to the salsa prepared tableside.
One morning we happened on a funeral procession threading through town. The hearse and family mourners were followed by a truck carrying gigantic speakers that pumped out foot-bouncing music for the dozens of dancers who followed, all of them wearing delightfully macabre masks.
The next afternoon, as we strolled through Parque Benito Juárez, we saw a wedding party where the bride and groom, serenaded by mariachis, were joined by matching bride and groom mojigangas, 10-foot-tall papier-maché puppets worn by their operators.
A lineup of mojigangas, giant wearable puppets, in a San Miguel de Allende gallery. Photo by author
If you’re looking for an escape from American Ordinary (if ordinary is even a thing in the U.S. these days), I highly recommend a few days in SMA.
We returned home to a dismal winter inversion and wished we could get back on the plane. Or any plane, going anywhere.
But only two days later, we were humbled and honored to receive the award as Guardians of the Year for 2025 from Boise’s Family Advocates, which runs the CASA (Court Appointed Special Advocate) program. CASAs are trained volunteers who support kids in foster care as their cases go through the courts.
All dressed up for the big ‘do: photo courtesy author
We feel lucky to be part of Family Advocates, which does so much to strengthen families at a time when social and community resources are stretched thin, and to help kids in foster care.
Honestly, we were a bit fuddled to be so honored when we know how hard other CASAs work — but when an organization of this caliber offers you recognition, the only polite response is deep thanks.
After the gala, I plunged back into the novel draft that I’ve been working on for — honestly, I’ve lost count of the months. I’m hoping it will one day be the third book of the Rain Rising trilogy (beginning with Griffin Speaker, which hits bookshelves on May 5 (preorders available now!).
It only makes sense that each time you draft a novel, it gets easier. Unfortunately, very little about writing fiction makes sense.
"There are three rules for writing a novel. Unfortunately, no one knows what they are."
— W. Somerset Maugham
This particular draft had bedeviled me with so many evil plot bunnies and digressions into the weeds that I’d begun to despair. But getting away from it for ten days helped clear the cobwebs, and I managed to reach The End at the end of this week.
Next on our February dance card: my husband’s brain surgery. Tomorrow, in fact.
Wait, brain surgery? Shouldn’t I be freaking out?
Only a little. My beloved has essential tremor that affects his hands. It’s not Parkinson’s, and it’s not life-threatening, but it is progressive, and it does make life more trouble than it needs to be.
He’s gone through all the more conservative treatments, and now the best option is a procedure called Deep Brain Stimulation. It’s a surgery with a long history and a very high success rate, partly because candidates are so thoroughly vetted before undergoing the procedure.
My husband has spent the past year undergoing all manner of testing to qualify: physical therapy, occupational therapy, speech therapy, therapy therapy, and a battery of cognitive tests that lasted a full day.
He aced all of ‘em. Yay!
Anyway, through the wizardry of modern medicine and assuming all goes to plan <brief pause to implore the Universe>, once healed up, my husband will have a rechargeable device implanted. It’s a bit like a brain pacemaker that cancels out the wonky impulses from the node in his noggin that cause the shakes.
And then he can type, mix martinis, and fill out forms again, all by himself.
The prognosis is excellent, the risks minimized, the upside certainly promising. Still, it’s scary.
On this day, the day before he puts himself and his precious brains into the hands of the surgical team, we’ve reached another border. We stand at the threshold between Pre-Op and Post-Op.
At this point, we just have to trust. And hope the doc is having a good day.
I’m primed to play recovery nurse for however many days or weeks it takes to get the hubs back on his feet (and a hat on his shaved, stapled cranium). We’ll see how long he lets me coddle him, though; he has a limited tolerance for being fussed over.
While I’m not plying him with tea and protein shakes, I will be prepping for Griffin Speaker’s release, and starting the next round of revisions on the second book, Griffin Rider (due out in 2027).
For now, here are the book launch events I have coming up:
March 5, Online: Author Panel Discussion, School Library Journal’s “Middle School Magic” online event (FREE to register and open to the public, but claim your spot now: see link!)
March 11, Online: Booklist webinar, highlighting Disney-Hyperion Books’ upcoming titles to librarians. This one is, I believe, invitation only — but if I find out different, I’ll let you know
March 30, Houston, TX: Panelist participant, “Imagination Unleashed: The Next Chapter of Middle Grade Fantasy,” Texas Library Association Conference (9:30 - 10:30 AM Central Time)
May 9, Boise: Book Launch Party at Rediscovered Books in Boise (1 - 2 PM Mountain Time). Public enthusiastically invited
May 16, Boise: Author In-Store Event, Barnes & Noble Boise (11 AM - 2 PM Mountain Time). Again, ALL are welcome, so if you’re in the area, please join us
May 20, San Francisco: In-person presentation at Town School
May 21, San Francisco: In-store event at Books Inc Laurel Village location, public most certainly welcome
