Maybe I’m trying too hard to live a pastoral existence that isn’t really possible in this city. Yesterday we woke up early and went to the farmer’s market, where everything was insanely expensive, though the strawberry jam is killer, it’s true. And this morning we drove to a nature preserve that was actually the grounds of the Argonne National Laboratory — dunno what they do there, something involving x-rays — and waded through the little creek, sat near the little waterfall, watched an angelic blonde toddler throw rocks at her older brother with squeals of glee. We left in search of pie. Which I imagined would be simple, stop at any diner in town; they’ve gotta have pie. We ended up driving through a generic, beat-down suburb Kevin aptly described as “cached” and finding no pie, and then getting into the city only to be honked at and bossed around by annoying city cars and again, finding no pie because I just decided to go home. I’m trying to re-create Northern Michigan. Or maybe Vermont. Though I’ve never been to Vermont. I’m just trying to get the city grit off. Even just stopping by a waterfall for ten minutes felt like a huge release of pressure. I thought I’d be a city girl forever. Apparently I’m longing for trees. And pie.