A social butterfly
I am not
But one kind of gathering
I do like a lot
Dinner parties
For a small group
Fit well into
My social loop
Conversation, food,
And a little wine
Let’s just hope
It ends by nine
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Super Bowl Sunday
I’m just not the type
To get too wrapped up
In all of the hype
I watch a few ads
And do lots of snacking
But of football itself
My interest is lacking
First down or touchdown?
I really don’t care
Of most every play
I remain unaware
I eat too much junk
My mind starts to wonder
When is the half-time show?
Between chips I’ll ponder
That extravaganza over
And the food almost done
I head off to bed
Not knowing who won
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When winter comes
I need extra heat
So I put a space heater
At the foot of my feet
Betty the cat
Has figured it out
If I don’t want to share
She will start to pout
She hops on my chair
And makes herself comfy
But soon she decides
That’s still not enuffy
With all her might
She prods and pushes
This chair is too small
For both of our tushes
Tired of fighting
The cat for some space
I get up and move
I do know my place
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Running errands
Is a funny saying
Cuz it seems to me
There’s always much delaying
Running means speedy,
Efficient, and fast
I wish it were so
Then it would be a blast
If according to plan
Every errand got done
If that really happened
Running errands might be fun
But when I do errands
I don’t win any races
Getting junk done
Puts me through my paces
Drop off the laundry
And fill up the gas tank
A stop at the P.O.
And then maybe to the bank
It doesn’t sound hard
In fact, it should be easy
But inevitably
These chores make me queasy
The traffic’s absurd
There’s a line at the P.O.
It always happens
By now you’d think I’d know
Exactly what I need
The drug store never has
And what was everyone’s problem
At the station getting gas?
After I buy groceries
Of course the rain begins
As I struggle with the cart
It hits me in the shins
I finally make it home
In one piece, more or less
Did I get my errands done?
On that please take a guess
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A party here
A party there
This and that
Holiday affair
They all were fun
But now I swear
As an introvert
I must beware
Of too many parties
Just say I’m square
But afterwards
I sit and stare
At nothing much
Into thin air
Happy to be back
In my own quiet lair
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Hubby and I mostly
Eye to eye see
But here’s a few places
We do not agree
For peanut butter I
Like Skippy that’s creamy
But Hubby thinks nutty
And natural’s dreamy
Christmas carols
I like the tried and true
But Hubby likes snazzy
Jazzy and new
For toothpaste he uses
The bitterest flavors
But give me more sweetened
My taste never wavers
An umbrella is something
We never do share
The right height for me
Will poke in his hair
But held up for Hubby
Who’s six feet-one tall
I get as wet as
No umbrella at all
I use three pillows
Big, full and fluffy
One flat, flimsy thing’s
For hubby’s enoughy
We’ve learned to accept
Each other’s quirks
To each his own
A motto that works
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This time of year
A sight common to see
Some people love
To put up a tree
The holiday spirit
Fills them with glee
Decorating their house
From bottom to top
Some enthusiasts
Don’t like to stop
They fill every corner
With green and red glop
To all that clutter
Silver bells and mistletoe
Some say yes
But I say no, no
At Christmas my house
Has little to show
I’m not such a scrooge
Oh, what the heck
I scattered colored lights
All over the deck
And inside you’ll find
A few Santa specks
Hubby helped hang
A wreath on the door
Betty the cat likes her
Santa toy on the floor
And my gargoyles are garlanded
Who really needs more?
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When I die
My ghost will roam
In several places
I’ve called home
One such spot
Is San Diego
A city I left
A long time ago
Hard to believe
How young I was
When I went to CA
Just because
Decades later
Returned this week
Thought the memories
Would make me freak
Showed off to Hubby
My old stompin’ spots
But lo and behold
I still loved it lots
Kate Sessions park
And Mexican food
Here, there, and everywhere
Some surfer dude
Mission Bay
And Crystal Pier
Glad I spent
My youth right here
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Twenty years and counting
Thanksgivings with my Hubby
So many turkeys
It’s a wonder we’re not chubby
With each Thanksgiving
The usual gets debated
How to be certain
Both appetites are sated
For me, a basic turkey
Nothing new-fangled, please
Anything but bread stuffing
Gives me great unease
Please, no “improvements”
No oysters or other junk
Such absurd atrocities
Put me in a funk
Hubby has his own
Thanksgiving day demands
Of pies other than pumpkin
He isn’t a big fan
So even if we’re guests
At another Thanksgiving table
The following day we cook
Our own Thanksgiving staples
And my annual Thanksgiving Ode
Now another tradition expected
One of these years my rhyming
Might even be perfected
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Hard to get into
My poetry zone
When on some weekends
From home
I do roam
Family reunions?
Also distracting
So this week’s poem
Is truly lacking
My poetry muse
Is doing some slacking
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