After driving around, biking around, potting plants, drinking coffee, brushing kitty, talking to mom, remembering old friends who aren't with us anymore, crying briefly, laughing wildly; I sit here and drink a glass of wine.  Before all of this, I listened to an episode of "Speaking of Faith," on Minnesota Public Radio.  Let me just say that I really can't listen to Krista Tippett for too long, I mean only like a few minutes, but so I was listening to this episode only because it came after "Car Talk," and I wasn't finished cleaning the kitchen.  She was interviewing a pagan scholar and environmentalist.  The topic was our collective homesickness for nature, because of modern life and how this collective homesickness is actually related to our roots in paganism, or maybe they weren't really saying that but I think they were.  Anyhow, I wanted to call in and say it wasn't because we missed our pagan roots, it's because there are people like me living in places like Minneapolis and we miss our birth place of Maine every second of every day.  I mean, I'm from Maine, dammit!  Sometimes I want to scream it!  Kitty hasn't even had a place like Maine in his imagination yet.  How sad is that?  He doesn't even know how spectacular it is.  I really am doing okay.  In the middle of the country.  They have sweet corn at the grocery store already, so that's cool.