Dizzy Me -- The Sexy Life of a Knocked Up Poet

Wish I could say I haven't been blogging because I've been fabulously occupied with exciting things or even poetry-related things. Occupied, but with the fairly mundane, hell, outright domestic.

Friday I got a mean letter from the VA DMV saying that if I don't pay them $105 by November 4, I'm going to lose my driver's license. You see, I lost that pesky Daniel Nester speeding ticket. Well, it really was just for my expired registration, but speeding sounds so much naughtier. I had figured it would eventually turn up and I fully intended on paying. I'll send a check out today (if I can find my checks!). We've been doing so much renovation that I can't find much around here anymore, including my instructions for what I have to do before I show up to the doctor's on Weds for my mandatory diabetes test. If I don't do everything right beforehand (which includes chugging an orange glucose mixture at exactly an hour before I show up), they'll subject me to a battery of torturous tests. So I have to find that instruction sheet or call them up today or tomorrow morning and get a new one.

Saturday we were supposed to do a bunch of errands, but Chris ended up being on call until 8:00 p.m. I spent the afternoon putting together my shower invite list for Tender Buttons and Chris scraped paint off the windows. He remembered last minute that we were out of prescription food for our diabetic cat, ran out to the vet, but they were closed. We watched a bunch of Dr Phil episdoes stored on Tivo. When Chris finally got off call, we only had time to pick out one new lamp for the living room. A white one from a lamp outlet store. Later that night we did a bunch of online research about cloth diapers and pondered buying a front loading washing machine in the spring if we possibly have a single dime left to our name at that point.

So Sunday we tried to fit in two days of errands into one day. The first thing we did was pick out a second, very sexy red lamp, at Zaidee Coco, one of my favorite stores. On the drive home, I held the lamp between my legs and giggled because I loved it so much.

Here's a photo of the sexy lamp from afar (albeit, not a close up so you might not see its true sexiness) and the new floors:



Next on the list was a quick run to Pottery Barn Kids to match paint swatches to nursery items. That's right, we decided on a "theme" (gag) and I'm going to stencil stars and moons on the walls like a big fucking goober parent and I'm excited about all of this. We always joked about our friends with their dumb "Disney" themes and said we'd have a "South Park" theme and paint a giant mural of Mr. Hanky in our nursery since it was probably going to reek of shit anyhow. But it must be the hormones because I suddenly no longer have the urge to paint a giant turd on the wall.

Then we drove out to Babies R Us to pick out a different jogging stroller for our registry because the one we picked last month is out-of-stock and my dad can't find it anywhere. We also registered for a few more things and hopefully this means we're done doing all of that.

By the time we got to Home Depot, they were closed (because Chris insisted on stopping to eat at the Silver Diner where they were out of both chicken noodle soup and biscuits). We went to Target and purchased about a three month supply of soap, shampoo, toilet paper, moisturizer, cleaning products, tooth paste, tissues and a hand-held steam cleaner. I wanted the steam cleaner because I'm going to try to clean a white chair that I love, but is filthy from eight years of cats and a 1996 wine cooler accident by Sam. Ok, the wine cooler accident was really just a couple of drops, but the chair was brand new at the time and I was never able to get the stains completely out and I told Sam not to sit on that chair in the first place and yes, I never forget anything.

But dear reader, please don't think my weekend had no poetry whatsoever. We carved out some time before bed. Chris picked a book on my bedside reading pile, Monkey Time, by Philip Nikolayev and we took turns reading poems to each other. This book has a bit of rhyme and form and Chris loves that shit. That and monkeys.