Old Newspapers

When I’m away The New York Times
Gets piled beside my door.
(For longer trips, I hang a bag
To keep them off the floor.)

I read them all when I get back,
In order that they came,
Enjoying news that’s “old;” at least,
That’s what some people claim.

I likely know the bare bones
Of most stories and their stars
From radio and news shows.
(I’ve been gone, but not to Mars!)

Still, there’s so much in the details
A reporter gets to break
That it’s worth a read days later
(And to me, it’s never “fake!”).

So I’m catching up on articles
And crosswords and obits
And until I’m where I should be,
I will never call it quits!

Pepperoni Pizza

My husband likes to kid around
And loves to tell a joke,
Expecting all will understand
The humor that he spoke.

I've heard them all before and some
Recur in certain places,
So he can coax a smile, perhaps,
From unfamiliar faces.

In restaurants (not pizza ones),
His order always ends
With "a pepperoni pizza,"
For the chuckle he intends.

So last evening, in a tavern,
We were shocked and quite unnerved
When, along with what we'd ordered,
Yes - a pizza we were served!

It was topped with pepperoni
And the server was confused
When we said we didn't want it,
But the waiter was amused.

We apologized profusely
And they wouldn't take our money.
Here's the moral of the story -
Some jokes simply aren't funny.

The Boss

I'm staring at the ocean 
While Houston's in the news,
But I and many Texans
Have quite different water views.

The Lone Star state's been flooded
By a savage hurricane
With the cars submerged or floating
In the lakes made by the rain.

In Oregon all beaches 
Have evacuation signs
For tsunamis, since escape routes
Are in every town's designs.

Though the locals do not fret about 
This possibility
All the warnings are quite jarring
To a visitor like me.

What's happening in Texas
Is a sad and awful loss
Which reminds us that, as always,
It is Nature who's the boss.

To Be a Jellyfish

How strange to be a jellyfish
Without a heart or brain, 
A blob of see-through matter
Floating out there on the main.

Content to pulsate in the deep 
And if the chance presents,
To sting an unsuspecting soul
And make him scuttle hence.

But if that jelly's guard is up,
He's scooped up by the tide 
And plopped upon the beach
Where many other jellies died.

I guess without a brain that jelly
Wouldn't understand
That to bob beneath the waves sure beats
A sunbath on the sand.

Rogue Ales Brewery Tour

They say that naught in life is free;
With that, I have to disagree.
In Oregon, you get the views
Of waves and sand and, if you choose,
A tour of something now in vogue -
The brewery where they make Rogue.

Their beers and spirits never fail
To bring some joy, like Dead Guy Ale
And on their tour, you see it made
For zero dollars - what we paid.
They gave us root beer - that's replaced
For 5 bucks with some beer to taste.

Their spirit barrels sure are super,
Crafted by their in-house cooper.
Whiskey, vodka, gin and rum
Are offered; payees sampled some.
And if this wasn't quite enough -
The Beer Museum - filled with stuff.

A smile-inducing part (still free!)
Was brew part to distillery.
We rode there in a little train;
From choo-choos! we could not refrain.
The passersby all waved and we
Responded with a childish glee.

All told, a bargain and such fun
I'd recommend to everyone!

The Oregon Coast

Vistas, vistas everywhere
With waves that crash then shrink.
My thirst for beauty's almost quenched 
Yet still, I want to drink.

If I could soak up every scene
And etch it in my mind,
I'd conjure it when life gets tough
And it's been left behind.

The world is vast, the ocean wide;
There's so much to explore,
But time is short and seeing this,
Just makes me want some more.

The Pacific

We're here in Lincoln City
With the ocean at our feet.
Just gazing from the terrace
Is the most delightful treat.

We walked the beach this morning
In the early dawning chill
As the waves were gently lapping -
To us urbanites, a thrill.

At home, of course, we've access
To the beach, and it's terrific
But somehow, there's an awesomeness
Unique to the Pacific.

Boring and Dull

In Oregon, while we were touring,
We passed through a city called Boring.
We laughed at the name
'Cause it sounded so lame
That to visit, we'd both end up snoring.

A billboard announced (not a joke!)
That in Scotland, one town of Scots folk
Is named Dull, so they dared
To suggest they be paired;
Here's to Boring and Dull - holy smoke!

Perfection at its Peak

Some friends we met a year ago
On an Italian tour
Said, "Visit us in Oregon -
We'd love to see you more."

It took a year but here we are
And what a day they planned!
We drove 200 miles, viewing
So much gorgeous land.

From Vista House, we made our way
Up to Multnomah Falls.
The photos don't do justice
To a sight that just enthralls.

Hood River was our destination
Next to stop for lunch,
But first we checked out all the shops
Before we got to munch.

Delicious food, a killer view
Of windsurfers and kites;
A mild and sunny day we had
To add to our delights.

Next stop, the lodge at Timberline,
A rustic ode to wood,
The views a bit obscured but still,
We'd stay there if we could.

From there, a little detour
To a campground by a stream
With wine and cheese, bread, grapes and jam -
It felt just like a dream.

There even was s tablecloth -
Such planning all this took!
Reliving childhood days, I tossed
Some sticks into the brook.

At last, a visit to their home,
An elegant retreat.
(We surely have a knack to find
The best folks we can meet!)

Some drinks on the veranda,
Then some steaks cooked on the grill;
Potatoes, salad, yummy tart -
We more than ate our fill!

They drove us "home" - the day was like
Perfection at its peak.
All this from friends so special,
Though we've known them just a week!

(Dedicated to John and Debbie)

Powell's City of Books

In Portland, Oregon there is
A place that all can treasure
For it's a palace filled with books
To bring each reader pleasure.

From new releases back to those
First published years ago,
Their trove of volumes lit me up
And made my smile glow.

Both new and used are on the shelves,
Varieties galore
And when you think you've seen it all,
Surprise! There's still much more.

With rooms arranged by colors,
It's a joy to wander through
And aside from books, there are a lot
Of gifty items, too.

Technology may rule today,
With books read on a phone,
But to see a place like Powell's
I know I am not alone.

Eclipse

My glasses are ready - I'm up in the air
And flying out west; the eclipse will be there.
The crowds are camped out with their cameras trained,
Relieved to see Nature's on board; it's not rained.

The seat-back TV's show the moon on the right
As it moves toward the sun, slowly taking a bite;
But the pilot's informed us that as we go forth
We won't really see much for we'll be too far north.

The ancients, at least those smack dab in its path,
Must have felt they were dealing with gods and their wrath
And for animals, such a thing's surely a fright
When the daytime's replaced by the darkness of night.

We now know the details and reasons and such
Yet still, though so little amazes us much,
It's been 99 years since we've gotten to host
This rare solar eclipse, to be viewed coast to coast.

Facebook

I don’t have time for Facebook;
It has a quicksand pull.
Without it, I can say my life
Is more than very full.

I rarely get together
With friends I have amassed
So I can’t really justify
Connecting to the past.

I must miss out on pictures
And updates of events
But there are other methods
That technology presents.

A phone call or an email
Or even just a text
Can keep me up to date
On what’s gone on or coming next.

Perhaps I’ll be persuaded
To someday change my mind.
For now, though, as archaic
I shall proudly be defined.

Just a Cold

“It’s just a cold,” the doctor said,
But every time I cough,
I worry when I’m on the plane,
They’ll want me to get off.

“It’s just a cold,” he reassured;
“You’ll have to wait it out.
I’ll give you meds but you should know
Their helpfulness I doubt.”

“It’s just a cold – you’re lucky
There’s no fever and no aches.
To heal, get lots of rest and liquids –
That’s just what it takes.”

“It’s just a cold” is what I’m told
Yet Monday I’ll be flying.
I’m following the doc’s advice;
I’m really really trying.

For traveling has lots of stress
And sickness, in addition,
Despite it being “just a cold,”
Will worsen that condition.

Fired!

First they’re hired, then they’re fired –
Comey, Flynn and Spicer.
You might think replacements would
Be smarter or just nicer.

But then Scaramucci came
And thus took down that theory.
Priebus, by the time he left,
Made everybody weary.

Still, when Bannon bit the dust,
I think the world was cheering.
Rex and Jeff and Kellyanne –
Your time may now be nearing.

Beauty and the Feast

I watched a yellow butterfly
As it was slowly flitting
Among the garden's flowers
All the while that I was sitting.

It carefully proceeded
From the purples to the reds
While the blossoms, acquiescing,
Seemed to sigh and bow their heads.

Mother Nature is so thoughtful
Giving more than is her duty,
Filling flora with such nourishment
As well as all that beauty.

Swat!

A fly flies in;
You want him out.
That's what a swatter's 
All about.

You hope he lands
Where you can reach.
(Some spots have rules
You should not breach.)

Like on a vase
Or someone's head.
You need a wall
Or door instead.

And then you aim
With what you've got.
If luck is yours,
You've made the shot.

The fly falls down
Upon the floor
And then your swatter
Waits for more.

Carbs

Lots of people watch their carbs.
I guess I watch them, too,
As they proceed from plate to fork
And in my mouth to chew.

I don't care much for protein
And most healthy foods I'll skip
Except for certain veggies
Seared in oil or used to dip.

But give me bread or pasta,
Pizza, muffins, beer and fries
And I'll indulge and luckily,
I won't go up a size.

So here's to carbohydrates!
If the cavemen had their choice,
They'd be following my diet
And would certainly rejoice!

Summer Slipping

I feel the summer slipping from
My grasp and I am glad,
Though many others, with that knowledge,
Might be kind of sad.

I understand what so attracts - 
The weather and no school,
But temps so warm just leave me cold
And, too, the beach or pool.

Give me a jacket any day
And autumn's golden palette.
A vote for longer summers wouldn't
Make it on my ballot.

So bring on cooler temperatures
And shorter days for me.
I welcome them with open arms
Though many won't agree.

To Disagree

If we agree to disagree
Does that avoid a fight?
I do not see how that can be
If both of us are right.

At least, we both believe we are
So if that is the case,
We’d have to somehow drop the bar
Or someone loses face.

I guess when all is said and done
We’ll both still feel annoyed
That no one’s lost and no one’s won;
A truce is null and void.

So Many Turns

Our lives can take so many turns
And some quite unexpected,
But one thing everybody learns
Is that we're not protected

From heartaches, losses, tears and grief.
If luck is in our favor,
Their visits will be swift and brief
And leave no bitter flavor.

So therefore we can then rejoice
When smiles make an appearance
And by our actions, make the choice
To run some interference

And gain some yardage for the good
And give the bad a sacking,
Advice that if it's followed would
Not let our joy be lacking.

We cannot plan for what's ahead. 
The future that we're facing 
Will be much better if instead
Of dread there is embracing.

Reunion

With recognition came the squeals,
Our younger selves emerging.
Then hugs and laughter, how it feels
With then and now converging.

The intervening years did melt
Like ice cream slowly dripping,
And all of us, I'm certain, felt
A little bit like tripping.

For it was in the 60's when
Our lives were last connected
And somehow, on this night, again
Those days were resurrected.

The present faded to the back;
The past was front and center. 
The passage opened just a crack, 
Enough for us to enter.

My Cheering Days

A highlight of my grown-up life,
Before I was a mom or wife,
Was being one of those who cheered
On game days, when our teams appeared.

This was in high school, years ago.
The squad, unlike today’s, gone pro,
Was there to get the crowd enthused;
Exhilaration we effused.

Through megaphones we shouted out.
The crowd responded; we had clout.
So when we yelled, “Gimme a T!”
You best believe they did, with glee.

We practiced hard and stretched each limb
For many hours in the gym.
It was our church, or more, our temple
And our rabbi, Mrs. Stemple.

I wore that uniform with pride.
To me, it most exemplified
A feeling potent, deep and strong
That to this world, I did belong.

Tonight our squad will reunite;
This poem I likely will recite.
We’ll reminisce about our past
And hopefully, we’ll have a blast.

But looking back, what I know now
Is being on that squad, somehow
Was magical and did provide
Such joy, I still have some inside.

Dawn

A sunbather out on the lawn
Garnered staring but never a yawn
For one glance at her back
Showed a thong sitting smack
On the very exposed crack of Dawn.

A Little Jazz

A drummer, two guitars and bass
Were playing in the perfect place –
Right near the entrance to the park,
The ideal spot to make their mark.

The instruments alone supplied
The soundtrack which so satisfied
That singing really wasn’t missed;
To listen, one could not resist.

We grabbed a bench and sat a while.
No passerby held back a smile.
The concert, naturally, was free;
Five dollars garnered a CD.

Their bag filled up with money tossed,
The music worthy of the cost.
A little jazz can quite transfix
And so our fiver joined the mix.

Second Choice

The restaurant was noisy;
We shouted when we talked.
If I had been from Boise,
I’m sure I would have balked.

But all the hungry tourists
Outside Katz’s formed a line.
For deli, we’re not purists
So the other place seemed fine.

The food was mediocre;
The service merely fair,
But rain was the provoker
So we ended up in there.

Yet it was what we needed,
A refuge from the wet
So convenience superseded
The pastrami we’d not get.

Amidst the Sunday Throngs

There amidst the Sunday throngs,
People sunbathe in their thongs.
Passersby are few who lack
The will to just ignore the crack.

Since it is a public park,
There for all from dawn ‘til dark,
There will always be some nuts
And displayers of their butts.

Freedom has a price we pay,
Including bodies on display.
So if a PG-scene you seek,
You’ll learn to turn the other cheek!

Happy to You!

They bounce upon a trampoline
And climb and charge at bubbles.
When watching pre-school kids convene
You might forget your troubles.

For as they scamper, scoot and slide
Their joy is quite contagious
Except those glued to mommy’s side,
Too shy or not courageous.

A birthday party at a gym
Is fun and not too taxing
For chances of a mess are slim
So parents are relaxing.

At playtime’s end, the pizza shows;
Then cake has its debut time.
We sing the song that Hadley* knows
Is her “Happy to you!” time.

*my just-turning-2 year old granddaughter,
who has been singing this song for weeks

Sprinkler

On a bench right outside the front door
We were waiting, like we've done before,
     For the camp bus to show.
     We were early, I know,
But that's just how I am, to the core.

All at once a surprise we did get
When the sprinkler, whose timer was set
     To go on did just that
     And in two seconds flat
We were both (and the backpack) quite wet.

We jumped up and we ran out of range
Then we laughed 'cause it surely was strange;
     But the early bird's terms
     Really do get the worms
'Cause we'd plenty of time left to change.


    

My Husband's String Beans

I tried to cook my husband’s string beans
But they came out wrong.
My kitchen skills are rather weak
While his, of course, are strong.

I used the pan he favors
And the oil was sesame.
I added almonds, just to
Jazz it up by a degree.

My friends are diplomatic,
Maybe almost to a fault.
They ate them with no comment
On the fact they needed salt.

Tonight my husband made some
And they taste just like they ought
So I realized my attempt was even
Worse than I had thought!

Without Our Friends

Without our friends our lives would be
As flat as the horizon;
As bland as those commercials from
T-Mobile or Verizon.

There’d be no color in our world
And food would have no spices.
For entertainment we would be
Left to our own devices.

There’d be no one with whom to share
Some gossip or a giggle.
Our days would be so empty we’d have
Wiggle room to jiggle.

But with our friends there’s sunshine
Even if the rain is pouring.
The time together flies without
A minute that feels boring.

How fortunate we are if we
Have friendships that we treasure,
The consequence of which is
The reward of so much pleasure.

A Screened-In Porch

The thunder booms; the rain, it pours.
We're half inside and half outdoors.
A screened-in porch brings Nature close
But not enough to overdose.

And so we sit and mix our tiles*
As Nature ratchets up the dials.
We gaze up at the stormy sky 
And dripping trees, while we stay dry.

At last it ebbs as we play on
Until the downpour's up and gone.
How cool to watch such changing scenes
Behind the shelter of the screens.

*mah Jongg playing pieces