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Chris emailed me a mess of photos from Boston Pride this weekend, and it had me feeling homesick all of Sunday morning. There are pictures of Chris' annual pre-parade brunch, the traditional mid-afternoon cocktail at Club Cafe, and the inevitable post-club snack in Chinatown. It was the whole gang of miscreants I ran with in Boston for three years, along with a few new faces that I didn't recognize. I only allowed myself a few moments to wonder which one of them was supposed to be my replacement.

But later in the day, MV and I drove down to a farm a few miles outside of Janesville. We spent an hour kneeling in the dirt, picking strawberries and getting sunburned knees. There were strawberry tarts for dessert, and there's strawberry ice cream resting in the fridge. I fell asleep watching the Tony awards with my head resting in MV's lap. This morning, I don't feel so homesick anymore.