Tuesday, September 30, 2008
Editor's Note
--The Editor
Misery Loves Company Installment #4
CHAPTER 4
THE PRE-SCHOOL YEARS II
Or
Missing Parts; A Lesson Relearned
Or
Annette, Annette, Annette
At the end of that tragic summer my family moved across town to a bigger house. The new neighborhood was an older neighborhood with much larger backyards. The street we lived on was long and straight with the sidewalks sloping down into gutters. At one end of the block was a small hill that the street ran down. I still rode my tractor up and down the street, but without the wagon. I tried it once, but it just got in the way. Besides, it just didn't seem right. The hill was perfect to pedal a bicycle, or in my case, a tractor, up and then turn around and peddle as fast as you could going down. The speeds were breathtaking! Sometimes I worried I was going too fast and would lose control, and I would scream in fear. There were a couple of other boys in the neighborhood that were close to my age that would peddle up the hill with me on their bicycles and then race me and my tractor down the hill. That was fun. But every time I would rush down the hill and feel the breeze in my face the memories of the auburn hair tickling my nose and the funny feelings I once had came back. And I never won a race. My tractor, as fast as it was, was slow and bulky compared to the sleek bicycles of the other guys. So, it wasn't long before I didn't want to race any more.
When the days got colder I parked my tractor in the garage and moved my daily routine into the house where I played with my toy cars and trucks. I think I was much like any other little boy at that age. I must have moved several tons of carpet with my Tonka Bulldozer. And with every yard of carpet I moved, my mother seemed to get a little more aggravated at me and less and less patient. I had a hard time understanding what was going on because my dear Mother Protector never got angry with me before. All of a sudden I couldn't do anything or say anything when she was around unless she got angry with me and yelled at me for something. I really tried to please her, but it was to no use. She would just sit around the house all day and get fatter and fatter, and yell at me every time my Tonka Truck would pull up another thread from the carpet. I found out what was bothering her, though. That winter, in late November, my mother had a baby.
I had never really been around a baby since I was born so it was really exciting for me. When my parents brought the baby home my mother would always ask me to help her out. "Go get this," she would say, or, "Go get that!" I was so proud because every time I would help my mother would praise me and shower me with kisses and tell me "what a big boy I was getting to be." My mother made me feel big, and the more she told me how good I was doing, the more I wanted to do for her.
Several days after the baby came home my mother asked me if I wanted to help change the diaper. I hadn't done that yet so I was really excited. I really didn't know what changing a diaper was all about, but I looked forward to “going to get this” and “going to get that” and to get showered with praise and kisses for being such a big help. So my mother took the baby and laid it on the floor and took off the diaper. When the diaper came off I was shocked at what I saw! I was so startled that I immediately ran into the bathroom and pulled my own pants down just to be sure of what I was seeing. Then I ran back. My mother still hadn't put the clean diaper on. "Anything the matter?" she asked me. I didn't know quite how to answer her but I was definitely concerned about our little baby. And obviously my mother hadn’t noticed the problem. She definitely didn’t seem concerned.
"The baby's missing something." I finally answered after a long pause, staring at the baby. My mother looked at me puzzled and then looked at the baby. "Right there," I said pointing, She's missing something, right there!"
My mother looked even closer and asked exactly what the baby was missing. She wasn't going to make this easy. I thought one look at the baby and she should know what I was talking about. Then I pointed right to where the baby was missing something. "Look," I said, seriously, right there, it doesn't have what I have!"
My mother laughed. And my mother kept on laughing, louder and louder. I just stood there with a very concerned look on my face. I didn't understand why she was laughing at such a serious matter. I thought we should immediately call the ambulance and take the baby back to the hospital to get it fixed. But all my mother did was laugh. She tried to control herself several times, but then she would look at me and break out laughing all of a sudden. She laughed so hard that the baby started to laugh, too. I tried to make my mother understand, but it was no use. Finally my mother was able to gain control of herself long enough to put a serious look on her face and turned and looked at me. She knelt down beside me and placed both of her hands on my shoulders. Then with as much seriousness as my mother could muster at the time, and with tears rolling down her cheeks, and between little snickers here and there, she told me: "Misery, she's a girl, and girls don't have those things down there." Then she turned and broke out laughing again.
Then it hit me. Memories from long ago came flooding back into my mind. I had tried hard to forget the hospital, but now the memories of the other me and the another other me came back to haunt me. I remembered it so well. The difference between a boy and a girl. I still didn't know why there was a difference, but there was. I was very curious, and since my mother knew so much, I thought I would go and ask her why there was a difference between boys and girls. My mother had finished diapering the baby and had disappeared into her room. I walked over to her door and was about to knock so I could ask the question when I heard my mother start laughing hysterically. Then I thought it might be better to ask the question later. Instead, I ran back to the bathroom just to look at the difference one more time.
Saturday, September 27, 2008
Misery Loves Company Installment #4
Wednesday, September 24, 2008
Contest Winners
Sunday, September 21, 2008
The Fifteenth Post
Saturday, September 20, 2008
Misery Loves Company Installment #3
Chapter 3
The Preschool Years
Or
My Little Red Wagon
or
Doctor, Doctor, The Postman's Rung Twice, Now What Do I Do?
Copyright 2002 Bob Boston
Installment 3
I received my first set of wheels when I was four: a little red peddle tractor and matching Radio FIyer wagon. The tractor had a hitch on the back so the handle of the wagon could be easily attached and pulled around like a trailer. I was terror on the sidewalks! Our house was on a comer of a relatively new housing development in Sunnyvale where all the homes looked about the same, and the streets would curve in and out every which way in some feeble attempt to create some interest to the neighborhood. I would ride that little red tractor with trailing Radio Flyer wagon up one street and down another as fast as my four year old legs could peddle. Up the block and around the block, but I was always careful never to cross any streets, like a good little boy.
I didn't know it at the time, not that it mattered back then, but I was impressing the girls. Each day as I would zoom past the houses of all the young girls my age, they would look out from their windows and watch me peddle by and point to me. Occasionally I would hear them say how much they wanted to ride in my little red wagon. They wanted to ride with me because I was the only one in the neighborhood that had a little red pedal tractor with matching red tow wagon, but I didn't know that. I thought they just wanted to ride with me.
Next door and around the comer lived a brother and sister. Well, scratch the brother. Up until this time boys were of little use to me. Except for my dad and my grandfather I got little comfort, little praise, no love and especially no meaningful companionship from boys. However, it wasn't long until I found a very beneficial use for the brother.
Betsy was my age and was a beautiful four year old as far as I could tell at the time. She had cute dimply cheeks, long auburn hair, and whatever else you could imagine a beautiful four year old to have. She also had a brother that was a year older than we were and he loved to drive the tractor up and down the neighborhood sidewalks as Betsy and I rode in the back of the trailer. It was summer and Tommy would pedal for all he was worth as Betsy and I rode in the back clinging to each other to keep from being thrown out of the trailer as Tommy sped around the sharp comers and curves on two wheels, stopping only long enough to eat a quick but protested lunch. The cool breeze from the San Francisco bay a mile away would whistle by giving welcomed relief from the heat. The breeze would catch Betsy's long, auburn hair, and since she always rode in front of me (I arranged the seating order), would blow all over my face and tickle me unmercifully. I loved it. And to top it off, the wagon was just big enough for the two of us to fit in comfortably. In order to sit in the wagon and keep from being tossed out as Tommy took the comers at break-neck speeds, we had to sit very close to each other and I had to wrap my legs around her. Betsy would hold onto the sides of the wagon and I would clutch her tight, around the waist. All I could do was smile as her hair tickled my face and then I squeezed her waist even tighter. And all Betsy ever did was smile back at me, and scoot back closer and tighter to me. We were two four year olds having the times of our lives! And Tommy just kept peddling as fast as he could, up and down the neighborhood, grinning from ear to ear never once knowing what was going on behind him in the little red wagon. Unfortunately, at the age of four, I was incapable of grasping and appreciating the situation that I was actually in, not even dreaming I would rarely find myself in a similar situation again at an age when it would really matter. I was too young to have learned how to play "Doctor" and the only "Post Office I knew at the time was down the road a few miles where my mother bought postage stamps. But I knew I was having a great time with the cool summer breeze blowing through that long auburn hair and right into my face, and my legs entwined in Betsy's and my arms clutching her tight around the waist. My smile let everyone know I was having a great time. And I was sure the great times would never end. I felt good that summer. I felt new and fresh. I really didn't know why I was feeling that way that summer, but I knew I was enjoying what I was feeling.
I rode with Betsy with her auburn hair blowing across my face and my arms clutching at her waist almost every day that summer, until one night late in August. The day had been spent riding the tractor as usual. It was getting late and Tommy and Betsy's mom had been waiting out on the sidewalk outside of their house to flag us down to call them in for dinner. As we came speeding by, Tommy saw his mom and slowed down just enough to make the turn into his driveway without spilling Betsy and me onto the oil-slicked driveway. We spun around several times, mostly on the two wheels of the wagon making for and exciting and wild ride. I held Betsy's waist tighter than ever before, mostly for dear life, but since there is little life to flash before a four year old, I had plenty of time to experience the joys and other exciting and wild feelings that were well beyond my abilities of understanding. Betsy grabbed my arms and pulled them tighter around me and held on tight until the tractor finally slid to a halt. Tommy quickly jumped off the tractor and ran into the house with only a shout of "goodbye." But Betsy slowly got out of the tractor, still holding onto my hands and looked me straight in the eyes, piercing me deeply to the heart. My heart rumbled and skipped a few beats. I believe that's when I picked up that bothersome heart murmur I have. She slowly let go of my hands, sliding her fingers slowly by mine in a reluctant farewell, never taking her eyes from mine. Something happened in that wagon as it went spinning around the driveway that day, but I didn't know what it was. She told me "goodbye," and "I'll see you tomorrow in your little red wagon." as she slowly disappeared into the house. I reluctantly waved goodbye to her as my heart pounded wildly inside my chest as I grasped for breath. Then I slowly turned and floated over to the tractor and mounted it for my short ride home around the comer to get ready for my dinner. As I parked my wagon and went into the house I longed for the next day and riding in the wagon with Betsy, our legs entwined, her auburn hair blowing in my face, and me, holding her tight around the waist. Morning seemed so far away; it seemed like it would never come.
That night was hot and muggy, and I had a hard time sleeping. We didn't have an air conditioner so I usually spent several hours tossing and turning in bed before I could doze off to sleep. I usually thought about what happened in the wagon that day and what might happen in the wagon the next day. Usually it was the same thing, night after night, after night: Betsy's hair blowing in my face and me holding her tight around the waist, until that night. That night I thought about those eyes, and the feelings I had when she pierced my heart when she looked at me. The feelings were so intense, I couldn't wait until morning. I wanted, more than anything in my life, to be with Betsy. And I laid there waiting; waiting, tossing and turning for morning.
After the summer sun had finally set and darkness had engulfed my room, and as I was dwelling on the events of the day, I began smelling a faint scent of smoke that gradually became stronger and stronger. Then outside I heard a commotion of screaming and shouting. I heard someone shouting to "Get out! Get out!" Then I heard the faint wail of sirens in the distance that grew louder and louder as they got closer and closer. Like any four year old boy I enjoyed watching fire engines. The sirens were getting very close and I stood on my bed, barely reaching high enough to see out the window and onto the facing street. As the sirens got even louder, and the horns were blasting impatiently to get everyone out of their way, I could see flashes of red light coming from around the comer and crowds of people running towards it. I caught a glance at several fire trucks as they sped past and turned around the comer. One of them stopped at the comer and hooked the hoses to the fire hydrant. I couldn't see where they were going, and I couldn't tell exactly where the fire was, but I was mesmerized by all the action I could see and the pulsating rhythm of the flashing red lights on the fire trucks. After several hours things began to quiet down. People started going home and the firemen began to roll up their hoses. Then all that was left where there had just been so much excitement and hustle and bustle, was an eerie, still, and quiet darkness. I dropped down to my bed exhausted from watching all the action. Now it was going to be even harder to wait until morning when not only was I going to have the enjoyment of Betsy's company and blowing hair and legs entwined and grasping her waist, but we could talk about the fire and see where it was and survey the damage. From everything I could see, Betsy was in a perfect position to see everything. She would be able to tell me every detail that she saw. I finally fell asleep, exhausted, with visions of auburn hair dancing in my head.
I woke up early the next morning and was so excited I was barely dressed as I ran out of the house to get on my tractor. When I got on the tractor, I put it in high gear and peddled with all my might! I tore out of the garage, down the driveway, wheeled around onto the sidewalk, and headed towards Betsy's house. I couldn't wait. There was so much to talk about, so much to do, hair to fly and a waist to hold firmly on to. Then as I rounded the comer I just stopped peddling. My legs went limp and the pedals kicked at my feet as the tractor slowly coasted to a stop. Tears came to my eyes as the tractor rolled to a stop in front of the charred remains and heaps of rubble that had just yesterday been Betsy's house. I got off my tractor and surveyed the damage for any sign of life.
"Betsy?" I yelled. I don't know why I yelled for her, but I was suddenly filled with desparation.
"Tommy?" I yelled again, hoping, praying for some answer.
"They're gone kid," came a voice from behind me, from across the street. It was old man Goats who lived across the street from Tommy and Betsy. He never talked much except to scream and yell at us each time we plowed by on the tractor yelling and screaming in delight. "They're gone, and they’re not coming back." he said. "Now go on, scoot, get out of here before you get yourself in trouble."
The old man turned and walked back into his house but kept an eye on me through his living room window. I turned and got back on my tractor and slowly began to peddle back home. When I got to the comer I stopped and looked back, hoping to see Betsy running up behind me to ride in my wagon. But she wasn't there. After that I would ride my tractor back to the corner each day and wait, hoping that one day, Betsy and her family would come back and live next door to me once again. But they never did come back. Work crews came instead and cleared off the lot of the charred remains of Betsy’s house. Eventually a small playground was built, much to old man Goat's dismay. I never played there. All I ever did was to slowly pedal my tractor with the little red wagon in tow slowly around the block, and then even slower as I passed the playground where all the neighbor kids were playing and laughing and screaming in delight. Other neighborhood brothers wanted to drive my tractor and even offered to let me ride in the back with their kid sisters. But all I could think of was the cool summer breeze, the auburn hair blowing in my face and my arms clutching tight to her waist. And smiles. Beautiful give away smiles from ear to ear. But they were gone now; all gone. No one could ever replace Betsy. I was miserable; no more smiles, no more legs, no more auburn hair blowing in my face and no more clutching at the waist; Misery was beckoning for company. I was only four, but what little precious life I had was over.
Thursday, September 18, 2008
!!!NEWS FLASH!!!
Tuesday, September 16, 2008
The Fourteenth Post
What makes this such a fun job is that everyday is different and you never know what is going to happen. With the fact that there are different individuals in each group, the dynamics change day in and day out. Sometimes the location changes which can prove very interesting as well. Yesterday, for instance, we were in a regular conference room. Everyone had to bring their own laptops and connect to the internet. Well, there are not that many that really understand their computers, so that was quite a challenge. To top it off, some of them had to borrow computers because they either forgot to bring theirs, or simply didn't have one to bring. Whey they borrowed a computer, they had to log onto the loaner computer in addition to connecting and logging onto the internet. This proved to be quite challenging.
Once we got going, the presentation went fine until right after lunch. Unbeknown to us, the seminar next door was a music seminar and they had scheduled a band concert. The walls in the building are not very thick, and since they were right next door, they sounded like they were in our room. Everytime I went to say something, the band would start playing. At least it woke up the participants.
Another thing of note: I bought new shoes for my other new job. I have been trying to break them in in time for tomorrow. But with the combination of new shoes, new job, I am on my feet most of the six hour presentation, add stress of a new job on top of that, and of course a little worry about the other new job starting tomorrow, my legs have been one gigantic achy mess! Instead of eating candy corn I have been gulping down the ibuprofen so I can some sleep at night.
Talk about new job. Tomorrow is the big day for the other new job. I go to orientation and hopefully will get my assignment and first schedule. I should find if I will get my dream job and be steam locomotive engineer, or a second best, conductor, or even jungle cruise captain; or if I will consigned to the dredges and simply be the attendant at Tarzan's Tree House. All I can say is "Stay tuned till tomorrow when you find out the exciting conclusion of Bob's New Job!
Until next time...
Sunday, September 14, 2008
Ice Cream Flavor of the Month
The Thirteenth Post
Saturday, September 13, 2008
Misery Loves Company Installment #2
Misery Love’s Company
OR
How to Succeed At Failing in Love In One Easy Step: Making The Attempt.
By Misery Love
Copyright 2002 by Bob Boston
Installment 2
My eyes were finally starting to adjust to the bright lights by now. For the first time I was beginning to see this new world of mine. I could make out faint images. As time went on, and as I became more and more relaxed in the soothing hands that held and caressed me, colors began to appear, and then images. I looked up and around to see where all this comfort and caring was coming from. I wanted to see who my rescuer was. All I saw was this green creature, with a white, featureless face. It was my hero. It had saved me from my misery. I cuddled into it and tried to return the feelings it was giving to me.
After I relaxed and had calmed down, the green creatures took me to another large and bright room and laid me in a see-through bed. As far as I could tell I was the only one in the room except for the green creatures and their comforting hands and soothing voices. At times the voices and hands would disappear and I would find myself yearning for them to come back. I looked forward to my next massage, and the squeezing and the rubbing. My whole purpose in life was to get as many body massages as possible. I didn't care about anything else.
When the next massage came, I looked up at my green comforter and saw instead a soft face framed with long flowing hair that was beautiful and caring and full of love. And then I noticed that there were several of them all around, waiting to touch me and to caress me and to take care of me. Later I found out that these creatures were called nurses, and were in actuality the green creatures in disguise. Apparently they used the green disguises to save me from the awful clutches of the hard and cold monster. But I was in their care now, and I longed for those tender hugs and little kisses, each one bestowed on me in their own turn. This is when I first discovered the true meaning of life. But I was soon to discover there were more lessons to learn.
I had been alone and yearning for those nurses to come back and give me some caring attention. All I dreamed of was having them come and hold me and shower me with kisses. I wanted a massage and to be squeezed by their tender and caring hands. I heard them approach and I relaxed expecting more great and wonderful things to happen. My body stopped its constant thrashing and began to tremble in anticipation. The nurse took me by the ankle and gently pulled it towards her. She carefully stroked my leg, up and down. This was a new twist to the full body massage, but it felt wonderful, too. It was a new pleasure in life. This may have even been better than a full body massage. I just kept my eyes closed and smiled and cooed as my leg was gently stroked up and down.
Then I suddenly felt a sharp pain in my foot! Another sharp blow in my thigh! My arm was grabbed and wrapped and squeezed until I thought it would fall off! Then a cold round thing was pressed against my chest and a long, cold, skinny thing was shoved up my, well, you know where! It hurt! My world, all of one hour old, was shattered within seconds. Once again in my short life I was plunged into misery. My rescuer nurses, the kind, loving and gentle hands had turned on me and brought me more pain and torture. Again I cried out as loud as I could to protect myself. My arms and legs began to thrash again like a wild and crazy beast. I was able to scare them off and was left alone in the large, bright room.
After the ordeal, and the cruel change of events, I lay there contemplating further the meaning of life. From now on I would never know if the kind, gentle voices, and the loving, caressing hands would turn out to be nothing more than the cruel instruments of torture. I loved the gentle kindness and warmth they offered, but feared the pain and harshness they could turn to without a moment's notice. I never knew what to expect, or when they would change. I would never enjoy another massage again, fearing what might come next. Then my thoughts were shattered by another cry, far off in the distance at first. But then it got closer and louder. Then it seemed to be right next to me. I struggled to turn my head over to the direction the crying seemed to come. My hands thrashed and my legs kicked and finally, I managed to get my head turned so I was looking over next to me. I looked through my clear bed and saw, right next to me, another me! And to my surprise, the traitorous nurses were massaging and cooing all over this new arrival just as they did me. Fortunately, knowing the true character of the nurses, I was no longer the center of attention. But I felt it was my duty to warn the other me that those gentle and caring hands could turn to terror in an instant. I cried out the warning, louder and louder, but it was no use, the other me only cooed and made sounds of contentment. It's time would come. It would soon learn the true character of the nurses that were caring for it. I tried to warn it. But for now I was growing sleepy and fell into a deep slumber thinking at least that I wasn't alone now. There would be someone to turn to when I woke up. Someone that I could turn and cry to, and maybe someone that could understand me. And we would be able to help one another in our times of misery.
I'm sure I didn't sleep long and when I woke up I struggled to turn my head to look at the other me. The other me was staring back obviously checking me out as much as I was checking it out. I was fascinated by what I saw since I had never seen another me before. I laid there wondering if that was what I looked like, and checked out the other me inch by inch.
"Let's see," I thought to myself, brimming with curiosity. I looked at the head, "Check; A little hair up on top," I thrashed my arms up to my head and wiggled a bit and felt a little fluff that I was sure to be hair, "just like me," I thought, "check." I looked further, "There's one eye," and then the other me turned over a bit more so I could see the other, "And there's the other, just like me, check. Nose, there is a nose, a bit, no, quite a bit smaller than mine, but other than that it's just like mine, check. Mouth, check; cries and sounds just like me, check. And those spastic arms, two of them, just like me, check. Chest, belly button." I continued my checklist and everything was checking out. Then, "Oh-oh!" I thought, noticing something different about the other me. The other me had something missing down there. At first it caught me by surprise. I wasn't quite sure what it was that was missing, but after a quick glance down at my body I saw it. The other me didn't have what I had down there. It was missing it. I didn't know exactly why I had what I had down there, but I had it and it didn't. Then my thoughts were interrupted by another cry that came from the other side of me. It started faint and grew louder as it came closer. I struggled to turn my head to the other side just in time to see the nurses roll another other me into place. The nurses cuddled and cooed over the new arrival and when they had finished, the another other me turned its head over to me and began checking me over just like the other me had. And, like before, I began checking over the another other me. I quickly scanned over the body of the another other me and, just like before, everything was checking out, just like me, except the nose; the another other me, just like the other me had a much smaller nose; but other than that it checked out just fine, until I got there, where something was missing, again. This another other me was different, too. Again I wasn't quite sure what was different, but with a quick jerk of the head so I could check myself out again, I remembered, I had something, it didn't. I turned to look at the other me and then over to the another other me and tried to figure out why they were different from me, and why. Then a terrible thought came to me. It wasn't that the other me and the another other me was different; it was me that was different! All of a sudden I felt awkward and embarrassed. I tried to casually cover up the fact that I was different from the other two. I was hoping that they hadn't noticed yet. I tried to casually move my hands down to the spot where I was different in order to cover up the fact, but every time I tried to move, my feet would thrash and my arms would fly and I would expose myself even more. And every time I would try to put my feet down, my arms would fly up in the air and wave as if saying, "Hey look everybody, look at me! I'm different." Occasionally I would get my hands where I wanted them, but as soon as I got them there I would spasm and squirm, and my arms would pull away just as quickly as I got them there. The only thing I noticed was the other two me's constantly staring at me. It was useless. Any effort I made to cover up my difference only drew more attention to it.
During my attention arousing display, I noticed a nurse walk up to the wall and pull on a rope or a string. The next thing I knew, the wall was turned into a crowd of gawking and pointing people. And I knew they were all pointing at me! They knew. They could see, and I did little to draw their attention away from me. I was there on display, naked for the whole world to see. One of the crowd tapped on the glass and pointed directly to me. Others crowded around him as he smiled and laughed, the whole time gesturing at me. The others slapped him on the back and laughed jovially as well. I could do nothing to hide my shame.
Then one of the nurses walked over and pointed to me as she looked over to the crowd behind the glass. All I could do to protect myself was to cringe and try crying again, it had worked before. But I had cried so much that my throat was beginning to get sore, and my cries began to sound a lot like that of a cat that had been outside all night in the winter. So crying didn't do much for me anymore, except make my throat hurt more. I had no idea what the nurse was going to do to me this time. I wasn't really sure if I really wanted to know, either. But the nurse picked me up and carried me over to the window and with one hand supporting my neck, and the other holding my bottom, she held me up in front of the glass, in full, unobstructed view for all to see. The people got even more excited and seemed to dance around each other. The one that tapped on the window continued pointing at me and smiling, laughing and gesturing to everyone that I was different. I knew I was different, and now, so did the whole world.
After everyone had their eyes filled with my difference, the nurse finally took me and put me back in the see-through bed and shoved some icky plastic thing into my mouth to stop me from crying. And then, after what seemed like a lifetime, and actually it was most of my lifetime up until then, the nurse finally made her way over to the wall of jeering people and covered them up. As soon as the people were gone the nurses made their way back to me, the other me and the another other me and started soothing and comforting us once again. I was sure something awful was about to happen again. I cringed as I kept my eyes on the nurse at all times so I could see what was about to happen to me. But all she did was fold a piece of cloth, shove it under my bottom and wrapped it around me where I was different. I looked over to the other me and the another other me and saw that they, too, had been swaddled with the cloth. My difference was finally covered. What a relief that was. I was no longer different from the others, at least for now.
It had been a hard day, and a long one. I had already experienced and learned a lot. Drowsiness was overtaking me. And now that I was covered I could allow myself to drift off to sleep, to dream of the comforts of the womb from which I had come and the full body massages to which I arrived. My dreams would seem to become the only place I could ever enjoy those comforts again. But then the dreams would be followed by the nightmares of reality; Of the nurses turned torturers and, of course, my own little discovery. I would sleep now, but never sleep too sound. I had to always be alert and on the lookout for the ever present nurses. I never knew what they were going to be up to next.
End Chapter 1
Look for the continuing saga in Chapter 2 next week!
Wednesday, September 10, 2008
Tuesday, September 9, 2008
The Twelfth Post
Monday, September 8, 2008
Postcards From My Cell Phone Sequoia National Park
These two national parks are right next to each other, and you never really know when you go from one to the other. They have some of the largest trees in the world. Both the General Sherman and General Grant trees are Giant Sequoias. They may not be the tallest, topping out at around 275 feet, but they are the biggest by volume. The General Sherman is the largest single living organism by volume. The trunk alone measured in at 1487 cubic meters. WOW! The tree is estimated to be around 2500 years old. Imagine the history it has lived through.
The parks also have an abundance of wildlife. For instance, during our visit we encountered a bear. I wasn't able to get a very good picture of it because I was running too fast.
Anyway, having fun. Wish you were here.
Bob
Sunday, September 7, 2008
!!!NEWS FLASH!!!
Saturday, September 6, 2008
Misery Loves Company Installment #1
Misery Love’s Company
How to Succeed At Failing in Love In One Easy Step: Making The Attempt.
By Misery Love
The story of a young boy growing up and falling in love, and then growing up some more and falling in love and growing up some more and falling in love and growing up even more and…
Copyright 2002 by Bob Boston
All Rights Reserved.
CHAPTER 1
or
A Funny Thing Happened To Me On The Way To The Delivery Room
or
Help, Help, I’ve Got a Strange Growth
Of course it all started in the beginning. Most stories do. My name is Misery, and for good reason, too. I tell my story for all those who are about to embark, or even those whose ships have already docked and are thinking about setting sail once again on that endless sea of love. You see, when it comes to relationships with the opposite sex, we are all miserable. So you would think that we would be wise enough to leave those relationships well enough alone. But then, after many miserable experiences, we find that we are all miserable without those relationships with members of the opposite sex. We all have our stories. This is mine.
You may have a hard time believing this, but I have an extraordinary memory. I can actually remember the day I was born. The memory of being awakened from a somber sleep in my dark and warm, peaceful existence, and suddenly being tom away. I was pushed and squeezed as I was moved through a long and dark corridor against my will. I remember my head being pushed up and seeing a small pinhole of light in the distance that grew larger as I moved closer. I fought to return to my only known existence, but I was unmercifully squeezed and pushed toward the light. I heard noises: Exciting noises. I heard voices: unfamiliar voices.
I had heard voices throughout my existence, but they were always soft, gentle, and muffled. But now they were getting louder, clearer, and they were clearly excited. The excitement of the new noises made me momentarily forget my apprehensions of being pushed toward the light as I was filled with curiosity to know what was beyond the light. As the light grew larger it felt warmer and more appealing. My curiosity grew stronger. I remember wanting to touch the light, to see what it felt like and to embrace it and pull it close into me. The closer I got to the light, the more peaceful I felt. When I got close enough to where I thought I could touch it, I reached out, with both arms to grab it. It was like a dream. But as soon as I did, monsters, that's the only way I can describe them came in through the light and grabbed me by the head. They were hard and cold. My peace and curiosity were turned to fear. Suddenly, my dream had turned into a nightmare. I was twisted and turned; pulled and yanked. I fought with all my might to return to the deep dark confines of the tunnel from which I was being forced. All I wanted to do was to go back to the only home I knew. But it was too late. The hard cold monsters gripped my head harder. I heard one of the excited voices yell "Push!", and suddenly I was spit out into the light.
The light was warm and very bright. A cooling slime covered my body and oozed off of me. I had never seen anything before and I squinted to see where I was. My eyes ached from the blinding light. I could see movement around me but that was about all I could make out. The vice grip of the hard and cold monsters melted away in the warmth, but before I could feel comfortable again I was grabbed by the ankles by another unknown force and held upwards and upside down. I was trying to figure out where I was, to see what was happening to me and to see what had grabbed a hold of my ankles and holding me upside down. But every time I tried to open my eyes, the blinding light would sting them and I had to shut them tight. And then came the first blow in my life. A sharp blow across the buttocks. I had never felt pain before, but I was sure that this was it. I struggled to get away from the sharp grip of the monster that had me, but to no avail. And then came another blow. And then another and another. I was being spanked! Spanked, mind you! And I had no idea of what I had done wrong. In fact I hadn't even had chance to do anything yet in my life, and I was getting spanked. But the blows kept coming. The slapping sound of flesh echoed throughout the room and I fought to get away. I had no idea what use fighting would do since if the monster that had a grip on my ankles let go I would have been dropped on my head. But it hurt and I wanted to get away. The voices came back, louder and more excited than ever. And then another blow slapped across my bottom. My arms began flapping, my knees buckled under the grip that held them. All I could do was cry. It was my only defense.
I cried as loud as I could. And it worked, too. As soon as I began to cry, the blows to my bottom stopped. But I continued to cry so they wouldn't come back. I cried loud, and I cried mean. I cried as mean as I could. I cried with my mouth wide open trying to look as big and mean as I could. But then another monster attacked me. Every time I cried and let out a loud burst, something was stuck in my face and shoved down my mouth, and it made a loud slurping sound. At times I thought my tongue was going to be sucked right out of my mouth. Then things were put up my nose and they kept going until they came out of my mouth. I thought this misery would never end. If this was life, I wanted no part of it. But when I thought my misery would never end, the grip gently let go and I was encompassed by another, softer, gentler grip that reminded me of my dark, cozy home from where I had just come. It engulfed me round about and added to the warmth of the light that was around me. What ever held me and comforted me began to rub and squeeze me. It was my first full body massage! It moved up and down and all around. I couldn't help but to relax; it felt so good. I thought I had been rescued and my nightmare over. The fantasy of life was awakening inside of me. Smooth voices and soft hands surrounded me. I was caressed over and over again; a squeeze here and a squeeze there. Soft words of comfort that I had no idea what they were, but they were comforting. Now life took on a whole new meaning. And life was wonderful.