The Spaulding genetic domination continues.

My parents spent their Fourth in the hot-as-blazes Sonoran desert, god bless 'em. And seeing as my mom is better in terms of sending me picture of my cute nephew than my brother is, I figured I'd post a visual update. I think it's been since Christmas since any of my blog readers have been able to take a gander at the adorableness that is Will Spaulding.



Rumor has it that Will is being coached to call my dad "Pee-paw!" I shouldn't laugh. But I do!






Here's my brother, pretending to be a French, beret-wearing guy, pretending to be a big ol' American flag-waver. Not a very convincing disguise. But Will's feet are adequately dangly.








Don't these pictures look hopelessly empty without me in them? Oh, Desert! Oh, Family! How homesick I am for all of you!

*Sigh*

Here's a post-vacation list of things I really do miss about my hometown, in no particular order.

1. Seeing Faith Hill at the mall, looking not at all like she does in videos

2. Nola, the Cajun/Uruguayan restaurant on West End

3. The shepherd's pie from Family Wash in East Nashville

4. Lightning 100 (there's not one goddamn decent radio station in DC!)

5. The fried green tomatoes at Jackson's in Hillsboro Village

6. Yazoo beer

7. The dude at daVinci's Pizza who makes googly eyes at me every single solitary time I go in there

8. Woo, the best cosmetics store ever

9. Getting pedicures with my mom

10. The Cotillionistas

11. Finding fruit tea at most restaurants

12. Movie after movie with Jon

13. Not having to Mapquest every-damn-thing so as to find my way around

14. Talking politics with my dad over coffee in the morning

15. Baja Burrito (Chipotle, you don't hold a candle!)

16. La Senorita Holly "Bunnyface" Meadows

17. People who know what both Red Velvet cake AND Chess pie are

18. Las Paletas (I have yet to taste the basil. Basil popsicle, you're waiting for me--taunting me,even-- aren't you?)

19. Seeing deer out the window during my yoga practice

20. And, of course, Noah, my beloved, beloved, beloved schmogface

regarding droughts

My friend Jack asked me to write a poem. I haven't written a poem in nearly 3 years, though this is the subject in which I supposedly have an advanced degree. I hate writing poems. I think I suck at it. Yes, you'd think this would have stopped me from getting a degree in this particular discipline, but no. I'm just that much of a masochist. Oh, yes, I am. However, I owe Jack a gift. And lucky for him, his request arrived when I was just exhausted enough, just pissed off enough and just giddy enough to think a linguistic improvisation was in order. And so, I'm posting it here. Forgive my continued poetic suckiness. This is for Jack:

An Improv: Prose Poem for Jack
You're stopping, mid-costume-change and it's you and a wifebeater. It's you and those damn black stilleto boots. It's you and a black thong and it's you thinkin' he'd like this better. But, though the sky could rain mud, it doesn't. September and its juices can't come soon enough and neither can I. Is that your skin? Skin bubbles and cracks, creakin' beneath those boots. This is what I've got left to give you.


Have I effectively proven my masochism now? Glass of wine didn't hurt, though.