This raccoon swims laps back and forth across the Fox River on a recent workout to exercise his limbs, cramped from habituating narrow Waukesha sewer passages. He uses a last year's cattail as a spotting object where he makes a turning dive and paddles to the other side, and so on, back and forth, back and forth across the likewise narrow downtown Fox.
^.^
The Sewer Raccoons of Waukesha are said to be grateful for the cleaning up of the river water in this town. They find it swimmable and potable, seemingly unaware or unconcerned that humans' usage of time-gloried deep well water is a ticking radioactive time bomb. Some say.
The Sewer Raccoons, who many ignore (including the Business Improvement Districters and about that the raccoons are also thankful) often emerge from the depths beneath the city after a night of revelry, sometimes clustering in a meeting hall in the catacombs beneath the old post office - now known as the fancy Rotunda. That is where their squatters-rights hub in the sewer network is sited. Allegedly.
When it rains it pours
may or may not be a credo
of a here-protected anonymous waitress
at Dady-Oh's Restaurant.
at Dady-Oh's Restaurant.
Maybe she just liked the design.
But we remember from childhood
that still famous trademark.
that still famous trademark.
How clever of this smiling young woman
currently passing
through a waitress stint
through a waitress stint
undoubtedly destined for greater
things in her life.
things in her life.
She picked a fine cafe
in which to do this act.
in which to do this act.
Shy, she hesitated
but only briefly before
allowing
but only briefly before
allowing
a working arm to be photographed.
Just as the Raccoon News is hesitant
to recommend tradesfolk or eateries
on these 'money cannot buy' pages
in pursuit of our own quieter downtown
denizenry,
in pursuit of our own quieter downtown
denizenry,
we take no delay
in citing the former Paul's Restaurant
in citing the former Paul's Restaurant
now known as the purposefully
mispelled but well-run Dady-Oh's
mispelled but well-run Dady-Oh's
for a delicious breakfast or lunch
- or Friday Fish Fry .
keep your eyes out for an arm
with a Morton's salt tattoo!
Have the American fries.
................
Having more eyes out:
Yesterday's bike races
were watched by us from our air-conditioned
aerie windows
at the Odd Fellows building.
A mourning dove
hunted by a few ill-mannered Wisconsin
shotgun wielders
sought his/her usual sanctuary
on our window sill.
Due to unusual eye placement
the bird was able to warily watch us
with one eye
and with the other eye
survey the speeding bike racers
as they prepare to slant into
a sharp turn off Main Street
and up Grand.
There was a pile-up of six cyclists
at one point in the day-long excitement.
A tight cluster of side-by-side strivers
crashed into each other
making that turn.
It was an earlier in the day race
in a learning, too-far leaning (?)
younger classification ranking.
No serious injuries but fragile
and expensive machines might have
been damaged.
We couldn't see.
From the outer Silurian limestone ledge
the mourning dove might have told them
they were flying too close
to synchronize that tight turn.
At the end of race day, cow bells
and hootings silenced,
the sun set beautifully.
to be continued
................
Having more eyes out:
Yesterday's bike races
were watched by us from our air-conditioned
aerie windows
at the Odd Fellows building.
A mourning dove
hunted by a few ill-mannered Wisconsin
shotgun wielders
sought his/her usual sanctuary
on our window sill.
Due to unusual eye placement
the bird was able to warily watch us
with one eye
and with the other eye
survey the speeding bike racers
as they prepare to slant into
a sharp turn off Main Street
and up Grand.
There was a pile-up of six cyclists
at one point in the day-long excitement.
A tight cluster of side-by-side strivers
crashed into each other
making that turn.
It was an earlier in the day race
in a learning, too-far leaning (?)
younger classification ranking.
No serious injuries but fragile
and expensive machines might have
been damaged.
We couldn't see.
From the outer Silurian limestone ledge
the mourning dove might have told them
they were flying too close
to synchronize that tight turn.
At the end of race day, cow bells
and hootings silenced,
the sun set beautifully.
to be continued
