A Murder of Crows is slated for release in September, and I’m already lining up booksignings and appearances.

Happy Spring!

At Once Upon A Crime, the award-winning mystery bookshop in Minneapolis!

This Saturday, I’m one of the 34 authors who have contributed original short stories to “Writes of Spring,” a mystery anthology in honor of OUAC’s 25th anniversary. My story, titled “Hanging Luce,” is about a side of his fiance that even Bob doesn’t know about!

Here’s what reviewers have to say about the anthology: “An inspired volume of original stories.” –PUBLISHERS WEEKLY “…belongs on every serious mystery reader’s bookshelf.” –Ed Gorman “…a tasty, mysterious delight.” –Minneapolis Star Tribune. All profits from the book go to the American Cancer Society, so stop in and buy a few copies for yourself and your mystery-loving friends, or order it from Amazon.com and help in the fight against cancer.  Limited copies available!

But today, I’m bummed that I don’t live near campus. They’re having a special event in the gym, and I would SO like to be there.

It’s Giant Inflatable Colon day.

“Oh my gosh,” I told my husband and daughter. “We are totally missing out on seeing the Giant Inflatable Colon. It’s a health project for the university. I wonder if it’s big enough to walk through?”

My daughter gagged.

“It would be so interesting!” I assured her. “When I had my colonoscopy last fall, the doctor had this camera going, so I could watch the walls of the colon go by as she scoped it – “ I stopped in mid-sentences since my daughter’s eyes were rolling back in her head. “What?” I asked. “Too much information?”

“Where is this, again?” my husband asked.

“In the gym at the university,” I told him. I read more of the email announcement I had received from the campus. “And listen to this: There are FREE Colorectal Cancer Risk Assessments for anyone who’s interested.”

“They’re scoping people at the gym?” my husband asked.  “Isn’t that a bit personal?”

“No,” I guessed. “It’s probably some sort of survey you fill out. I really doubt they’ve got people climbing on a table behind a makeshift curtain in the school gym. What if the project organizers forgot to notify the gym classes, and a bunch of students in shorts and jerseys showed up to play basketball just when someone was about ready for the procedure? Hello?”

“Yeah, it’s probably a questionnaire assessment,” my daughter agreed.

“But get this,” I continued reading from the announcement. “Activities for kids: Name the colon contest.”

“Name the colon?” my husband said. “Colons already have a name: colons.”

“No, no! The giant inflatable one,” I said. “The big one in the gym.”

“Cathy Colon?” my daughter suggested. “Cornelius Colon?”

“My Big Fat Colon?” my husband added.

“My First Wife?” I chimed in.

“Look at this!” my daughter said, pointing to the email on my computer screen. “Not only are they offering a free risk assessment, but if you take the assessment, and you’re at risk, they’ll give you a free colon screening!”

I read the announcement again. Sure enough, that’s what it said at the bottom of the page. “I’ll be darned.”

“Right there?” my husband asked, “in the gym?”

“Maybe you get a little sticker to wear, like after you vote on election day,” I said. “You know, the one that says ‘I voted.’ It would say something else of course.”

“’I’ve Been Probed’?” my husband suggested.

I imagined walking around in a gym with a bunch of people wearing little round stickers with the words “I’ve Been Probed” on them.

“Eew. Eew. Eew.”

“I bet it’s another questionnaire,” my daughter said.

I hope so, because I know I would have a hard time teaching a classroom of people wearing “I’ve Been Probed” stickers on their shirts.

Talk about too much information.