November 27th: A Lot To Celebrate

November Twenty-seventh, ev'ry year
Just overwhelms me, even when it's not
Thanksgiving. 'Twas my Grandpa's time to cheer
And celebrate his natal day. That got
The rest its start; my parents married on
That day, then some years later, Sister Kris
Was born, and stole the hearts of all. Jack's gone,
My grandfather, but there's no time to miss
Him when there's so much yet to celebrate!
Two writing friends of mine have birthdays, too,
Today. Last year I set myself a great
And noble task, a sonnet for each. Phew!
This year, tired from Thanksgiving, I use one
To hail them all and send my love, ere done.

In Which Is Inaugurated Tomato-Rama 2010

My parents went to Sam's Club this "black" day

And all I got were just ten lousy pounds

Of fine tomatoes. With these, they did say

"We like your sauce and paste," I think, so -- 'zounds! --

E'en as I munch on turkey re-heatings,

I blanch and peel two dozen romas, then

Will spend the rest of this fine evening,

A-cooking them on down. Such time has been

Ideal for catching up on podcasts, so

Here I begin, but, spoiled for choice, which shall

I start with? Quirks and Quarks? A novel? Oh,

There's Planet Money, too. How my morale

Doth rise as I so contemplate a night

Spent in the kitchen, growing e'er more bright!

In Which We Like One Doctor Harris At Cheyenne Regional Medical Center Very Much

We had some worry, in our family,

A health fair screening made us thus, and so

Off to Cheyenne my father came to see

A specialist. Today was time to know

If we had cause for any great concern.

Alas, the schedule lady said next week

Was when she had Dad booked. 'Twas not his turn

(But when it was, 'twas time for him to seek

Attention elsewhere: begone, cataract!)!

Frustrated, we booked with a P.A., but

Outside the elevator, who, in fact

Was waiting with us but the doctor! "What?"

He said, "Oh no, come during lunch."

And then he gave good news we liked a bunch!

In Which We Kind Of Already Did Mother's Day But I Can't Let The Actual Day Pass By Without Saying Something

Shift work means that I'm missing Mother's Day.
We celebrated last week: Chinese food
(Which she can't get in Togie) goes some way
Towards pleasing her; no fete should not include
Chop suey when it's for her, this I know!
I felt for her at Lowes and other stores
Where pots of flowers, blooming, out for show
Kept tempting her. Her fav'rite springtime chores
All center on their planting. She and dad
Are good at raising things and taking care
Of what they treasure, even through the bad
Old frosty times like now, but she did spare
These hothouse plants; too soon for them, as she
Well knows and kindly taught to Kris and me!

In Which Some Tables Are Slightly Turned

A friend sold Dad his pickup; so began

A fine scenario nobody meant

To generate, but now this bustling man

Is getting just a taste of how we've spent

The years with him. A big truck, blank and white

Looks like all of the other pickups parked

All 'round the busy stores. This is a slight

And satisfying irony it's sparked:

Now he can't find it either, sometimes. He

Has trouble, too, betimes, with the seat belt,

Not unlike what his wife has often; she

Has lev'rage trouble spooling it out, felt

Quite stupid often as he sighed in wait.

In this, at last, my Mom has found her mate.

In Which A Home Improvement Hoedown Needs Some Light

A home improvement hoedown I have had,

New pickets on the back fence, and, inside,

Built-in bookshelves for one room (I'm so glad;

'Tis one dream I've long cherished). Still undried

The shelves themselves drip on sawhorses, so

It being Mother's day times two real soon

(This month's her birthday, too), off we did go,

To Office Max. We found one made her swoon

And also, there, a lamp I've fancied. As

I hate to shop, it pleased me, then, to make

Both purchases (efficiency, it has

The pow'r to move me strangely). We did take

The lamp home to my house, only to find

No bulb within. The store clerks, though, were kind.

In Which I Miss My Dog But Can't Take Her With Me On Vacation

My house is empty, save for all my stuff;

The animating spirit, she has left.

Just for a week, but that seems long enough,

I sit here at my table; I'm bereft.

My bare feet stretch out, feeling for her fur

But Molly dog is nowhere to be found.

I know she misses me as I miss her,

But has a lot of fun where she is bound.

It's Grandpa Camp! Lord, how she loves my dad

(My mother, too; her little dog less so),

His yard, his truck, and also, yes, his bad,

Bad habit, tossing scraps from dinner. No!

He tells her when she begs, and yet somehow

She gets her way. Wish she were here right now!

In Which I Fret Just A Little

My parents are enroute now to Cheyenne
From Saratoga, while my sister, Kris,
Is coming from New Mexico; the plan
Is that they will converge, if naught's amiss,
At my house, like the Simpson family
At credits' end. Meanwhile they're all in cars,
And I try not to worry. It will be
Just fine, I tell myself. I'll thank my stars
Quite soon that they all made it, hug them, and
Dish up some Bambi chili for their meal.
It's weird how ev'ry year, whate'er we've planned
This is the situation and I feel
The psychic strain of keeping on the road
Carloads of far-off loved ones, then explode.

In Which Don and Carol Beat The Odds Some More

It's said that opposites surely attract

And that would be the case with this odd pair,

My mom and dad. He's Wyoming way back

(Fourth generation), while she hails from fair

Old San Francisco. Rawlins, where they met,

Hath never seen their like, before or since.

A cop and a newslady - that would get

A double-take from anyone. No hints

That they were meant to be would they accept

Until they stumbled on each other at

A party, and since then they've gladly kept

Each other's company, and I, their brat

And one more child from harm and foolish ways.

Congratulations, guys, and love always!

In Which I Prepare To Be Invaded

The KATE STATION is home to a mere two:

The collie and your humble sonneteer.

In minutes, though, I'll be trying to do

All that I can, with all of my good cheer

To make some room for this, my family -

Mom, Dad, and Sister Kris and, don't forget

That Missy Shitz-poo dog. It's going to be

Our first time all together here. I'll bet

There's something I've neglected that will make

Things difficult for someone. Well at least

The books are shelved, and I've managed to take

Back this old kitchen table from the beast

That is my laptop and accessories.

We might even dine off it if we please!

In Which I Basically Phone One In

I've been invaded by my mom and dad,

And last night, as they say, I overtrained.

I've no regrets, but really I'll be glad

To see this day end. Really, I'm quite drained.

Much wine, too little sleep, too much to do --

My parents shop hard when they come to town,

And there is dinner yet to whip up, too

And dominos to play ere I lay down

To properly sleep off all last night's fun.

But no hangover's ever going to stop

My writing this, my daily sonnet. One

Day I'll falter, let this program drop

But it won't be today, so here it is:

A meta-sonnet. Sure, I am a whiz!

BONUS SONNET: In Which I Celebrate Decades Under The Sun

When I, for one, think of the 70s

It smells of printer's ink. And what I hear?

A newsroom all abuzz with cursing bees,

The clinks and clunks of linotype. I fear

That I am marked for life by all those days

Spent after school on Main Street at the Sun.

How else explain my decades-later craze

To come back home and join the staff? What fun

To have a byline where my Mom's had been

Chuck's, Candy's, Starley's, Cheryl's, Lori's too!

To take the Wallace Biggs again and win

Like they did. Would that I were there with you!

I'm proud to be a Togie writer, glad

That Dick Perue was there, an extra dad.

In Which Cocktail Hour Finally Gives Us An Excuse To Stop What The Rain Could Not

Late afternoon, after a hard day's toil

In my backyard with Dad cracking his whip,

It's cocktail hour. We watch the stormclouds roil

And lightning flash oer all that we did strip

Of weeds and bunch grass at no little cost.

I eschew power tools whene'er I can;

Expensive to maintain, then there's exhaust

Inhaled while working. But as Carol Ann

Sherrod might say, you does with what you has.

And what I had was a vast crop of weeds

Beyond what I felt I could cope with as

A single girl. But now my father bleeds

From helping me. The least that I can do

Is get him drunk, and yes, my mother, too.

In Which I Become The Pie Monster For A Certain Someone's Benefit

While they were here, I took my Mom and Dad

To lunch in Cheyenne at a special joint.

Needless to say, our lunch was so not bad

That it was fab - but that is not my point.

I got a dare from Ommus once again

To sonnetize The Pie Lady this time

(That's where we lunched and where I found within

A Pie Monster). Now, yesterday my prime

Preoccupation was with Star Trek, but,

He's not so big on deadlines, Ommus, so

Today, a quiet day, I choose to strut

My sonnet stuff on him once more. I know

A sonnet is a strange place for trash talk,

But om nom nom, I'm eating. Take a walk.

The Parent Trek

It's no surprise that Mom wanted to see

The Star Trek flick, but what to do with Dad?

We thought that Earth would do, but wow! Then he

Said no he'd go to Trek with us. He's had

Experience with outer space movies:

He took us to see Star Wars after all

(Ne'er mind that that was in the 70s!).

And so we went, all three, and had a ball.

"A good light show," was Dad's review, while Mom,

Quipped "they sure hid that well" 'bout Mr. Spock

And (spoiler zapped; we'll just defuse that bomb).

While I am still recov'ring from the shock:

Shizuma Drives and Ultranauts, last time

I checked were not canon, but that's no crime.

Happy Mother's Day - Geek Love Edition, OR Why I Haven't Seen Star Trek Yet

She taught me how to use objective case,
And what a linotype machine was for.
She handled with most admirable grace
When betimes, as she vacuumed the floor
A shotgun shell blew up in the machine.
Likewise when village small fry mistook her
For Grandmother ( her grey hair, from a gene
She shared with me, came early, as it were).
She taught me young to love the ancient Greeks
And stars and sci-fi, gin and Chinese food.
No wonder I count us among the geeks.
All this while married to a cop. But, dude!
E'en so I must love this gal quite a lot.
I'm waiting to see Trek with her, distraught!

In Which I Lose Ignominiously To Three Female Authority Figures From My Past

The new Mah Jong card for 2009
Was extra-new to me as I sat down.
My Girl Scout leader and dear Mother Mine
And Mrs. B, a sub of some renown
All grinned at me like three sharp Mah Jong sharks.
And so did our first Charleston portend:
They passed the tiles and made their tart remarks
At speed while I was left to just pretend
I'd found a pattern with which I could win.
Each game I did at last find something like
A playable plan, but my own dear kin
Or life-long mentors gleefully would strike,
And dis-tile quite instinctively the tiles
I needed to outwit their wily wiles.

By All Means Read The Fine Manual - But Make Sure It's The Right Fine Manual

In retrospect, I really should have known
When, though I tried, I simply could not make
The drawings that the manual had shown
Match up to my real furnace. My mistake
Compounded as I trusted, yes, by gosh
The booklet's claims about the filter set
As ones that simply need a wipe and wash,
And no replacing. How dumb could I get?
Fast forward one more day and Mother said,
It's really cold in here, is something wrong?
I went to work; meanwhile, with bowing head
My Dad and Realtor hunched back down along
The crawlspace, and the Realtor showed us where
The filters go and are. A quick repair!

In Which An Idle Ass Keeps Getting Kicked At Work Or Play

My dad is here to visit, and that means,

A restless, wild work ethic with two feet

Does stalk my halls and rooms in ratty jeans,

A tool in hand and goals he seeks to meet.

We've leveled up my old washing machine,

We've tried and failed to clean the furnace vent,

We've shoveled so much snow it seems obscene

(Especially for April!). Now I'm bent

And sore while he keeps asking, well what more

Should we be doing with this idle time?

Hooray for Mom, who said pinochle or

Some dominoes, would that not be sublime?

We played a while, and they both kicked my ass,

Thank goodness it's now cocktail hour at last!

At Suppertime, I Muse On My Crock Pot

My parents are still here due to the snow

That's falling fatly on us in Cheyenne

And to my invitation to do so;

Round Two of hospitality's the plan.

It's cocktail hour as I start to wind up

The preparation of our fine repast:

A chicken dish with apples I've lined up

Since 'round the crack of noon. I cut up fast

An onion and some garlic cloves; I thawed

Some frozen chicken and some orange juice;

I mixed that juice with spices and, no fraud

Dumped all into a crock pot, turning loose

The slow heat on the food, right then, at noon.

Now to add in some apples; ready soon!