Women With Curves

I discovered my older brother's stash of Playboy mags when I was about 11 yo. I was probably spoiled rotten by what I saw in those photos. Fast forward about 8 or 9 years. I remember hanging out with a bunch of guys back in college many, many years ago drinking beers and watching girls go by. They called one attractive woman 'fat', and I immediately retorted, 'She's not fat!' But I still had a rather narrow appreciation women with more generous curves. My ex-wife has a gorgeous ass! Big & round! But I still desired a slimmer figure. That early introduction to naked women still had its grip on me. It wasn't until after I was divorced that I discovered a tiny little clothing optional beach in between San Francisco and Stinson Beach. I started going there regularly, not to ogle like so many gawkers that sit on the rocks above like nasty vultures, but just to get naked myself, decompress, and meditate in my own way. Of course, I did enjoy seeing all the wonderful naked bodies enjoying themselves in such a carefree manner, but that was not the reason I was there. This beach has a very healing quality about it, it is one of those 'special' places. The folks that do go there regularly seem to be more friendly and accepting. Because of this, I believe that many women of curvature would go there for that reason- unbiased acceptance regardless of shape, colour, size, gender, orientation. After several years of relaxing there, I noticed that I had indeed become more accepting of women who did not look like Lara Flynn Boyle, Calista Flogheart, Nicole Ritchie, ad nauseum. I much prefer voluptuous and curvy to tabloid culture stock.

Some years ago, I was seeing a woman who was not very physically attractive. We did however, get along famously in our dispositions, sports, music, and sex preferences. I had delved deep into my feelings for her and was totally willing to pay no attention to her physical appearance. She was a partier, to say the least. She often bragged about how much she drank the previous night and how she made it through work with a ripping hangover. After being married to an alcoholic, I was not about to go down that road again. I called her on it, she didn't change those habits, so we drifted apart. Just to reiterate, it was NOT her physical appearance or size that ended it for me.

One thing that does turn me off though, is a huge, hanging beer gut. I don't mind 10 or 20 or even 30 extra pounds. I don't mind 'love handles', hell I like them! But if it's all beer gut, I'm sorry, but that just doesn't work for me.

Enough about the Red Sox (for now)

So this Fenway West blog writing has been enjoyable, and I will continue to write for that blog. It came along just as I was finishing work and I simply dove right in to help take the sting out of being unemployed or 'retired', as I prefer to think of it. lol. I think. Then came the trip back east to visit the folks. When I got back from that trip, the Manny trade hit the fan and every Sox fan was probably caught up in that tornado for about two weeks. I had written that last Red Sox post one night not planning to publish it until the off season. Someone in another forum questioned the length of my... fandom? fanaticsm? fanhood? Whatever. So I published it sooner, rather than later.

Sierra goes back to school tomorrow, so I should be stressing much less knowing she's somewhere presumably out of trouble for most of the day. Time to diversify, lots of stough I want to be writing about.

My name is Dave, & I am a Red Sox fanatic.

Can I remember the starting line-up of the ’79 Sox? No. The ’98 Sox? No. I don’t have the Green Monster painted on the wall in my living room, and I don’t have any Yankee TP (but I’d like to.) It’s been years since I’ve been to a game at Fenway Park. I can count the number of games I’ve been to there on one hand. (I have managed to go on a tour of the park since my last game.)

I do remember, however, the sofa I was sitting on at the summer house as I watched Tony C. get beaned just about 41 years ago. Eight years later, I was sitting on the same sofa watching Fisk wave the ball fair. In 1978, I was driving up the Florida Turnpike listening to the radio when Bucky Fn Dent….

I found myself in a bar in Death Valley National Park in 1986, when Buckner…

I got so unbelievably shit faced that night after the game that I couldn’t get out of bed for the next three days. Not even to puke.

Could anyone ever forget the R-O-G-E-R chant in October of '99? I remember the look on Wake’s face after Boone hit his shot in ’03. The following October, I was home from work for 6 weeks after knee surgery, watching the whole post-season. That’s why I planned the surgery for mid-October. How about the pair of 17-1 games against the Yanks? And then of course there were the 4 back-to-back-to-back-to-back home runs against the Yankees last year. I can still hear Jon Miller: "And that one's headed for New Hampshire!!!"

There were several years I didn’t pay much attention to the Sox and baseball. For many years I had been actively involved in competition water skiing at the amateur and intercollegiate levels, thus tying up all my summers during that time span. I also spent three summers in Sequoia and King’s Canyon National Parks, where there was no TV or radio. We considered ourselves lucky if we saw a 3 day old newspaper maybe twice a week.

But somewhere around 1966 or 1967, this dorky, unathletic, 8 or 9 year old kid growing up about 50 miles south of Fenway, tried to emulate his older brother who was playing Little League and high school ball. I picked up a bat and a glove, and played sandlot ball with the other neighborhood kids. I usually played right field as most of the hits went to left, and I usually was at the bottom of the order. The Sox had gone from worst in ’66 to first in ’67 and there was a baseball buzz in New England that hadn’t been felt in years, although I didn’t know it at the time. I remember sometime in the late ‘60’s laying on the aforementioned sofa not feeling too well watching the Sox win and then feeling better. Of course I attributed feeling better to the Sox winning and not to whatever medicine my mom might have given me. I was hooked. 40 years later, I’m still here, I’m still a Red Sox fan.

Yaz, Tony C., Reggie Smith, Joe Foy, Rico Petrocelli, Mike Andrews, George Scott, Jim Lonborg, and damn if I can’t remember the catcher’s name!* No, I did not look those names up. Flashy Hawk Harrelson came in to replace Tony C. Do you remember that rocket that Jose Tartabull fired into home from right field and got the runner out? I still have my old copy of "The Impossible Dream" vinyl LP.

Thanks again to Matt O’Donnell, owner of the FenwayWest.com blog for inviting me to be a contributor to his blog. I had been active in on-line music discussion groups, and started a small Red Sox group for Sox fans in the Sonoma (CA) area. Matt saw my writings in that forum and liked what I wrote. I’m home a lot these days and writing about the Sox has been very enjoyable and therapeutic during this uncertain time of change, as well as rewarding in its own right.

The Sox won’t win every World Series in 4 games, they won’t win every World Series, nor the pennant, not even their division. (Same goes for the Yankees. Get used to it, Evil Empire.) Who knows, we may even see Pittsburgh and Kansas City squaring off in the Series someday!

Someday the Sox may lose 90 games in a season, or experience the turmoil the Yankees are experiencing right now. Hopefully this will not happen in my lifetime, but if it does, I’ll still be a Red Sox fanatic.


*Russ Gibson (RIP) & Elston Howard

Manny Ramirez

I write for the Fenway West blog. Today, Comcast Sports found one of my posts about Manny Ramirez leaving Boston (and believe me, there were loads of them across the country) and included a link to it on their page.

Well, don't I feel special :-)