by Beth Goodman

Disclaimers: None whatsoever. Oh, maybe a spew alert.

Feedback is always welcome: bethgoodman@e-scribblers.com.

Copyright © 2004 by Beth Goodman. All Rights Reserved.

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When I was very small, and my age was still counted in weeks, my Aunt Irene had a hysterectomy, which was a painful and invasive surgery at that time. My cousin Annie wound up serving as her nurse, along with Granny's help.

Annie was in her early teens, and Aunt Irene was not an easy patient. To lighten the atmosphere, Granny decided that the two caregivers needed code names; so they became Booger One and Booger Two. Every conversation from then on went something like this:

"Booger One to Booger Two. Come In Booger Two."

"Booger Two here. Reporting For Duty."

"Booger Two, please commence operation Easy Passage."

"Aye aye, Booger One, one soft solids lunch coming up."

I don't think Aunt Irene ever found out about this, which is probably a good thing, let's just say her sense of humor could be a bit spotty at times.

The thing is, I know my Aunt needed looking after, but I love the fact that Granny also saw that Annie needed some TLC during this trying time. She found a way to get the job done, but also soothed some fragile nerves while she was at it.

And Annie, well she was warped to begin with. Do you know that when I was three months old, she kept putting my finger in my nostril until it stuck there? Now she claims she taught me how to pick my nose. Personally, I think it's her fault that I one of my nostrils is bigger than the other.

How could anyone every expect me to turn out "normal" with this kind of childhood trauma? It's okay by me though, normal isn't nearly as much fun as life from slightly off center.

So, thanks Booger One and Booger Two, I'm proud to claim both of you as part of my screwy family... But, Booger Two, you don't need to help anymore, now I can pick my nose just fine, all by myself!

Take me to Life With Granny 3...

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