I am lying on my back in a king-sized hotel bed in northwestern New Jersey. Features of the room: oddly high ceilings, a kitchenette with a teeny-tiny dishwasher, a bedside drawer containing both a Gideon Bible and the Book of Mormon.

I got into town around 3:30, which gave me time for a bath before dinner. I love baths and live in a house without a working tub, so I'd been looking forward to this hotel treat. Then I dolled myself up and went outside to meet BJ for dinner. He took me to a really nice local inn, where I ate salmon and we chattered intently about books, discovering, to our delight, a shared devotion to Brian Doyle, author of the novel Chicago that I've emoted about on this blog.

And then we drove to the college, where BJ pointed out my picture flashing on the highway marquee. That was a first: I have never had my photo on a marquee before. What a peculiar feeling.

Everyone at the school was incredibly friendly, from the security guard, to the faculty, to the students. There was a good-sized audience, people asked questions and listened hard, they bought books . . . It would have been a perfect miracle night if I hadn't had a choking fit while reading a poem, but I guess that is the sort of thing that keeps me earthbound.

So, this morning, back to New York, with a lighter suitcase.