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.

Score 44 For The Border War

It almost didn't happen, but we got

The Bronze Boot this year, with a fine blow-out!

As football rivalries go this is not

So famous as some others, but we shout

As though it were -- in truth, though, we've both sucked --

But someone had to win and yay, it's us!

As might be said, those Cowboys really bucked

The sheep this year, and that is worth a fuss

As you Wyoming fans all prove it's true

That if we only beat one team it's best

If it is Brigham Young or CSU.

Tonight in Laramie, the wild wild west

Will live again. My sister must regret

She chose the Boise State game, I just bet...

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 Sister Kris Gets A Shivery Send-Off

A dirty, chilly night howls on outside,

And into it we had to go to send

My sister on her way back home. The ride

Was merely blocks, but then we'd spend

Some time with her ere her flight was to leave

On board a puddle jumper flight. So far

So good but ice and show and wind this eve

Meant ev'rything was late and cold. A bar

At Cheyenne's airport was our roost

As we did watch and wonder if she'd go --

Deicing's never easy, and night loosed

E'en nastier conditions, blowing snow

And cold, bone-chilling. Shivering we watched

And worried. Thank Bog not a thing was botched.

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 My Own Dear Personal Sister (XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX)

'Tis beer day; so my sister hath declared

Though per my calendar this is the date

Some (censored) years way back our mom was spared

The further joys of pregnancy. I hate

To out her in this way but Sister Kris

Is old enough to (Oh, redacted) be

(This section lost to viruses) now. Miss

Sherrod the younger spends this day as she

Likes best: with foamy brew and TV sports

And then a live Trailblazers game. Don't say

I told you it's her birthday; out of sorts

Is not the way to leave her on this day.

Just play some ABBA and some A-HA, then

Wait till next year to do it all again!

In Which A Tasty New Recipe Is Born... Well, Maybe Not

My sister hath rare culinary skill:

When I found frozen tater tots a-athaw

Upon the counter, she did not grow ill,

Suggested an idea, which I, with awe,

Share here: her notion of just what I ought

To do with them. And it's not wholly bad.

Dear sister Kris, she knows that I've been caught

With no bananas, and that I have had

A green tea smoothie daily for a year

(Green tea, banana, honey, frozen fruit

All blended well). She blurted out with cheer

That tater tots might be a substitute

For those bananas. Truly, she is wise.

She's single too, and easy on the eyes!

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 My Own Dear Personal Dad Has A Cool Birthdate

Today's date is 09/09/09,

Which we agree is cool all on its own.

It's also quite a day for me and mine:

My father's birthday. How the years have flown

Since he would come home in his uniform

And Kris and I would rush him in the hall.

We're grown now and occasions when his warm

Embrace can hold us both are rare. I call

Him hero still; he always finds a way

To make a diff'rence for the better in

Our lives and others'. How can I convey

My love for him in fourteen lines? I've been

Attempting it for hours, so I'll just say

I love you, Dad, and oh, happy birthday!

BONUS SONNET: Bye-Bye, Mr. & Ms. American Pie

Two icons of my childhood, both are gone.

I still recall when his hair caught on fire,

And still laugh loud when she sits on the lawn

And tries repeatedly just to inspire

A quiet moment to reflect on trees.

My sister loved MJ much more than I,

As girls. But I remember -- quelle suprise

Our skating in our dad's garage to my

Small turntable with Thriller on and more.

In later years, the freak show dwarfed the man

And Farrah sort of faded to decor:

Her poster long outlived her actual span

Within the public eye. I bid them peace.

At last the tabloids, flashbulbs for them cease.

BONUS SONNET: On The iPod Belonging To My Sister

The thing has got more cheese than Tillamook,

My sister's iPod. It's a time machine.

The 80s live forever in her book

(She had a better time back as a teen).

Glass Tiger vies with Journey for her love,

And with Bad Company and Kiss and Bon

Jovi and Queen and Eminem and (of

That last she claims it's walking tunes upon

Which she depends to set the beat) and hey,

No Quarterflash? What's happened to this girl?

A-Ha, she's got that, salted with, I'll say

For fairness' sake, the Foo Fighters and -- pearl!

Some U2 and The Cure and Siouxsie Sioux

She's grown a bit since 1982.

In Which I Ponder The Daily Fetch-A-Thon That Is My Sister's Life With Her New Dog

The newest member of our fam'ly's pack

Of crazy dogs, mayhap the craziest

Is Krissy's, a lab mix, whose name is Jack.

Built like a tank, excitable and, yes,

Relentless as a charge of army ants.

His rubber ball must constantly be thrown,

Best into mud or grass, or bedding plants

Along the fence. Long after one has grown

Well sick of playing, after Jack's big tongue

Is coated in a slick of mud and grass

Well mixed with drool, that ball must still be flung

And flung some more, or else Jack will harrass

One with his slimy toys all day and night.

It's what he loves the most, as is his right.

In Which I Become A Clock-Watching Fool

Two days from now, almost right to this hour
I'll be crammed in a nasty airplane seat
Bound for points west. It's barely in my pow'r
To keep my cool. Vacation time is sweet,
E'en when, as I shall do, it's to do work:
My sister's house did not come with a deck,
A common but a not-so-charming quirk
Which needs redressed quite soon; she'll be a wreck
Until the job is done. Sherrods do not
Do well without a place to sit outdoors,
Sip beer and watch the birds from a cool spot
(And by sip beer - that's anything but Coors).
Two days and counting down! Meanwhile I sit
At work on my Friday, and just fidget.