It’s 1920 in Houston, Texas. These firefighters from Station No. 7 stand in front of their sweet steam truck with the big A wheels. Mike Lathrop is to the left, in suspenders, Magerson Smith (Magerson is a cool name, no?) is in overalls to the right, and a man known only as Poop is in the middle. I’m guessing this was before hot firefighter calendars were popular.
That’s probably not kryptonite. In fact, the only thing I recognize in the whole image is dreft, and a man in an apron. A sturdy apron. The rest of it is all science.
This might also be science. Or maybe it’s engineering. I don’t know. It’s machines.
This guy is looking at the things, maybe liquids or gasses.
She is noticing how the thing has changed and is about to take notes on her hypothesis.
More bubble things. Too late to switch careers now, Bud. At least you have at lots of keys.
More liquid things and jars and gravity.
Maybe this is chemistry.
And finally, badda bing, badda boom, vaccines, fresh from the icebox.
Need to spice up your crappy 2020? Get a coatimundi, aka the hog-nosed coon. Just stick a collar on him, secure a leash, take him to a dog park, and see what happens. It couldn’t be any worse than what’s already happened this year. Imagine the possibilities: you could contract coronavirus or pass it on to someone else standing near you. If they’re not wearing a mask, that’s on them. Don’t let anyone tell you he’s not welcome in their dog park. Who cares if he’s a safety risk? It’s not fair to keep him out. Parks should be more inclusive.
Maybe a dog there is a carrier! Maybe a Great Dane will try to mate him, and he will defend himself and tear that Dane to pieces. Uh-oh! Liability issues. Now the media is involved. Perhaps someone will be offended by the sight or smell of your coati and call the cops. Wait? The cops were defunded? Who’s answering 911 now? Who can they dispatch to?
He sure is cute, though. If you purchase one as a pet, just know that Purina won’t work for this guy. Make sure to provide fish and ants, as well as eggs and sugar. Coatis looove sugar. He was not made to eat a vegan diet, so don’t push your agenda on him. And don’t get angry if he comes at you like a spider monkey; it’s in his nature. He can’t transition into a chill sloth or a domestic cat. He’s stuck in the skin he was born in. Don’t try and forcefeed him Zoloft or Latuda or push meditation practices on him to quell his biting tendencies. Believe me, when he sinks his teeth into your skin, he is fully present. Fair warning: he may give in to his bandit ways, and like a coon, pillage your neighbor’s trashcan. Just make sure he doesn’t get caught or he may wind up shot and stuffed. Trespassing is against the law, after all.
If so, make lemonade from lemons, maybe a nice purse or gloves from his fur. But don’t tell PETA!! In fact, don’t tell anyone anything, because they may get offended.
Charles Sturdee tends to the lamppost garden blooms on Camden, Maine’s main street. A blacksmith made the wire basket, and the Camden Garden Club provided the geraniums, petunias, and vines, adding to the beauty of the town.
This picture of the Camden, Maine public library was taken exactly 40 years later, lamppost gardens still in bloom.
That very same year, Mr. Sturdee passed away, after years of service to the town, including 19 years with the Camden Police Department. We all make a difference in this life, even if it’s just watering the flowers.
Mint condition coot! Comes with cardigan, plaid pants, shined shoes, and pool rake!
Actually, Dr. George R. Starr, Jr wasn’t the coot; his coot decoys were. At this point, he had a collection of 1,000 decoys, mostly ducks, but some swans. Yep, he was so wild about them that he wrote a book in ’78 called How to Make Working Decoys. His son, Gary, continues the tradition at starrdecoys.com, if any of you should find yourselves in need of some fake ducks.
I read a lot of books in the tub. Since I only buy clearance books from the used book store, my budget is small. When I’m done, I simply donate them back. I could stand around for an hour and wait for them to ultimately offer me $1.78 for 45 books, but I prefer to just drop the boxes off and leave. The one I finished today was “In Such Good Company” by Carol Burnett. Only $3 and I read it while my husband was at his cardiac therapy. Next up: The Art of Racing in the Rain.
Who needs a carbonated beverage when hot and hunky Randy is only a meter away, and his Chanel Pour Monsieur is wafting toward you on the wings of love, mingled with the musky scent of teen athlete? Focus, Joyce, or you’ll drop your pom.
Hormones are high all around. Looks like she’s got designs on this guy.
The sight of Bill literally made Sally’s jaw fall open.
Too much nuzzling!
A’courting we shall go.
He shall be mine by nightfall. I will yet ensnare him.