Waiting to Get There. Usually on the A/C/E in Chelsea, New York City.

The First Encounter Tom came home from work and it was in the house. Large, fuzzy and smelly. It occupied almost the entire livingroom. Tom was frightened. He grabbed a broom and tried to look menacing. The raccoon laughed. It sprawled out on the rug. Tom poked and yelled and finally the raccoon ran back out the cat door where it had come in. When I arrived on the scene, the raccoon hadn't gone much further than the middle of the yard. Tom and I pressed our faces against the pantry window and watched it flail around on the grass. It stumbled and drooled and headbutted a tree. That's about when I started screaming to grab that cat and check his last rabies vaccination date. Then I looked down. All over the floor were foil wrappers. Our financial planner had given us a pound of chambord-filled chocolate barrels. They were all gone. The Raccoon Develops a Taste for the Sauce The raccoon told all his friends about the wonderful elixir and tasty treats available at our place. The n

"The boats were coming into Ellis Island by the truckload." - comment by Grammy R at Thanksgiving dinner, as recounted by Seth.

"Must be Spanish." - comment by Dad, looking over an ad for a handheld Bic in the Bed, Bath and Beyond catalog.