CedaRound: Watch your mouth

Downtown Cedar Rapids was—and still is—a convergence of waterways and railroad tracks. Which—like with many towns—made—and continues to make—it a hub of commerce and manufacturing—along with irritating parentheticals set apart in dashes.

The biggest manufacturing plant in downtown Cedar Rapids today is Quaker Oats, which makes many different brands of cereal but thankfully makes no parenthetical commentary in Facebook posts. As such, the entire downtown area is awash almost daily in an effluvium of cereal smells, some general and some very specific. Today was one of those very specific days. I just drove through downtown Cedar Rapids on my way home from work and as I passed the Quaker Oats plant I was immediately transported to the world of watching Saturday-morning cartoons in my jammies, making a fort out of the couch cushions, and lacerating all the soft tissue in my mouth with spoonful after delicious spoonful of ... Crunch Berries.

Yup. My town smells like Crunch Berries on a regular basis. I hate to brag and yell and gloat, but MY TOWN SMELLS LIKE CRUNCH BERRIES ON A REGULAR BASIS. Your stupid town probably smells like poop or dirt or feet. And if you're having a bad day in Cedar Rapids—like that one time you had to park three whole car lengths away from the door to Hy-Vee—all you have to do is take a quick drive through downtown—with your windows up or down; the magic of Crunch Berries knows no barriers—and just take a few deep breaths. Your Crunch Berries therapy is fast-acting and refreshing and calming ... and FREE. No parentheticals required.

Something nice with swans

Well there are WORSE. THINGS.
Than weeding and deadheading on a Sunday.

 
There are WORSE. THINGS.
Than weeding and deadheading
In your pebbled front-yard garden
As the hot sun beats down on you
And you’re wearing a black T-shirt
That just proves thermodynamics
Make you swelter, sweat and trickle
To the point that you might pass out
In your pebbled front-yard garden
(Oops but I already said that)
And your lilies have stopped blooming
Plus your hostas look anemic
But you’re using your new snippers
That have been a great investment
‘Cause they’re making it so easy
To snip dying and dead plant parts
And please don’t forget the dog poop
Yes you must pick up the dog poop
That has hit the yard like shrapnel
So please watch where you are stepping
Did I mention that I’m schvitzing
In our weedy front rock garden
That Versailles would mock and laugh at
But EXCUSE ME ‘cause I’m trying
Now my forearms started itching
Because weeds are toxic bastards
And they’re sending caustic weed slime
Up my sweaty tired firearms
But I stopped to take a selfie
With my profile facing leftward
Like the lady in that painting
Who was named Dot by Steve Sondheim
In the musical with Lapine
That I’m curiously quoting
As I’m weeding and deadheading
In my pebbled front-yard garden
On a SUN DAAAAAAAY.
On a SUN DAAAAAAAY
In the yard. with.

*Don’t say your name!*

jaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaake.