Emily, occupational therapist, Linden Grove Rehab, Mukwonago
expects her first child, a girl, very soon.
Pictured here she plays bounce the balloon with the rehabbing SRN editor
testing his ability to balance standing no-hands within his walker to send back
the orb she bumped from random angles.
We were smitten by her roundness similarity with the balloon
held aloft and her gate-belt supporting of her little girl to be.
Photo taken a month ago
With our Lower Crustacean LC cell cam.
We bid Emily and the other therapists adieu 5-31-17
She was working then and getting much rounder.
I wonder?
Another roundness, from 2001 A Space Oddysey
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=e-QFj59PON4
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=q3oHmVhviO8
You're going to have fun
Round adventure
^,^
While the City Sleeps
Waukeshans complacently enjoy their town-grown-to-city
With it’s well-policed, clean, safe streets
And the cerulean blue skies overhead;
Or when it rains
The rain washing everything anew and flowing
If heavy
Away like dirty bathwater down the drain
Out of sight, out of mind; oh yes,
We think of everything and take for granted
That the solid terra-firma plane on which we work and play
IS as storybooked as it appears
And that the sky overhead here is relatively terrorless
That covers two of the three physical dimensions
But we never think about the seething subterranean world
Beneath the city where that dirty bathwater flows
Unless we happen to be with the Sanitation Department
And as far as I know, they aren’t talking;
My friends, we co-exist over a nether-world
About which we never think
And the Sewer Raccoons down there - that’s right - count on our ignorance;
Their profligacy festers beneath us
Growing daily, like whiskers becoming a dread-locked beard
But we don’t know it because we trust in our local government
And in what we see
The coons, woe to us! phantoms of this opera are
Just a few feet beneath Waukesha
Until nightfall when every storm grate at every corner
Becomes an open doorway into our elysian yards and gardens;
Marauders on velvet paws which they keep licking, masked,
They steal about under cover of nocturnal shadows, late,
When the windows of our proud houses show black;
It’s then the Sewer Coons take over the town; by day,
These slick creatures have free rein in their underworld
Bartering our garden produce in little shops and bazaars
In their sub-city
Where they swarm and reproduce like rabbits;
They have their own school district where all the little coons
Study burglary and ankle-nipping;
So far they are content with their lowly position, hence,
The Sanitation Department, the Mayor and the Aldermen
Only monitor them and do not tell us of their spreading presence
An Amos or a Paul Revere I send this warning
For I live nearer the Fox River in one of the town’s ruder huts
And the Sewer Coons are, though proliferating
Concentrated only in our poorer neighborhoods at the present time;
By the railroad tracks and the Fox River waterway,
But the storm sewer web is beneath us all, free and accessible
And even now no one is safe
I have again lately seen the coons emerge from the grate at our corner
As has my wife; we know the desolation
Of having our grapes stolen from our vines;
We’ve actually heard the coons’ little “chick-chick-chick” sounds;
Close-up, we’ve seen the phosphorescent reflection of their eyes
In our flashlight beams; they run, are not brazen yet – oh, no -
Carrying little bindles over their hump-ed shoulders
And make their dash back to their grated holes,
Furred hit-and-run warriors, in place,
Waiting for their messiah to come, perhaps from Milwaukee or Chicago
The Really Big Raccoon King, to marshal them into an invading army,
Meanwhile waxing stronger in secret on grapes and sacked left-overs;
And sometimes we think we can hear muffled “tink”s
As they pound on their tiny anvils under Arcadian Avenue
Making suits of armor on foot-pumped forges; flaring
Light seems to flash from the gratings after the clock has struck twelve
And I go out and listen at my corner sewer entrance
And hear their “YO-OH, HO HO!” chants
Echoing softly up from below;
The Sewer Raccoons are coming, the Sewer Raccoons are coming!
[David Dix]
^,^
Cousin Mark comes up from Brooklyn, Iowa
on his motor cycle to see the phenomenon, points at the sewer raccoons
while SRN Ed. observes
on his motor cycle to see the phenomenon, points at the sewer raccoons
while SRN Ed. observes
^,^
KD stretches
KD Cat arises from nap on birdseed shopping bag
made by Gramaw Means - Dee's mother -
of Pleasant Valley, MD
^,^
don't worry
be happy
song by Bob Marley
song by Bob Marley
performed by Playing For Change
Music Around the World
Music Around the World
