If you’ve been wondering where I’ve been lately, I have a guilty secret. I have a podcast addiction.

I recently gave up on trying to make my WMA-based MP3 player do what I wanted it to do. I had a “to go” subscription with a music-streaming service and it just. Never. Worked. Right.

After a year and a half of struggle, I threw in the towel and bought an iPod Nano. I’m in love with it. Okay, so I can only listen to music I “own,” but I tend to buy what I want to listen to anyway. And those subscription fees add up.

The big revelation for me over the last month is all the fantastic Podcast programs available. There’s the pro stuff, like daily downloads of Fresh Air from NPR, and weekly downloads of the News from Lake Woebegon from the Prairie Home Companion broadcast and “This American Life.”

But the really cool stuff is by regular people — like Brenda Dayne’s program “Cast-On,” my new best friend while I’m knitting. And the fabulous “Easy French Poetry” by Camille at LearnFrenchInBoston.com.

And it is just so much easier to deal with than my old Rio Carbon player. I don’t even have to think about it — I just connect the iPod and it all synchronizes perfectly without any intervention by me. Life is hard enough without having to run interference between gadgets.

I went to the dentist this week for a cleaning and check-up. And, of course, I did not have any cavities.

After complimenting me on my good dental care, the hygienist commented “You have a beautifully restored mouth,” which struck me as very funny. For just a moment, I felt like an antique.

I finally figured out the whole dental hygiene thing when I was in my twenties so my dental life since then has been fixing stuff that I screwed up as a kid. At this point, pretty much all the old, decrepit fillings have been replaced by crowns so my teeth actually do look better now than they did when I was 25.

My general appearance owes a lot to the fact that my parents were smart and kind enough to take me to an orthodontist. I can’t thank them enough for this. I was a normal-looking little kid, but at some point between second and fifth grades, things started to go very wrong.

The orthodontist was a little creepy and had a weird habit of absentmindedly rubbing my right thigh while discussing the slow and painful progress of my teeth. It took just about 7 years from first visit to the last, but it was well worth it to avoid looking like a woodchuck.