VALENTINE’S DAY EDITION
February 13th

PLEASE send you advice to two single women, whose lives are suddenly crashing in chaos!  Zoe and Sophia, BFFs for thirty years, find themselves unexpectedly cast into the world of re-creation and redefinition after decades of being faithful wives to George and Marty.  They need advice from anyone willing to offer it.  For instance, what advice would you give your BFF if she asked, “AM I DESTINED EITHER TO WANT THAT WHICH I CANNOT HAVE OR TO SETTLE FOR DAMAGED GOODS BECAUSE THEY ARE AVAILABLE TO ME?” Any advice you can give to Zoe would be helpful, but this is what Sophia said.

On Saturday afternoon, snow fell in blinding sheets. Sophia sat shivering in front of the dining room fireplace, in her 1700s home, on a lake in New Hampshire.
“Okay, tomorrow’s Valentine’s Day. Fuck me,” said Sophia.
Zoe sat in a rocking chair next to Sophia. Her eyes stared blankly as she chewed on one fist. She was contemplating whether she should become celibate for the rest of her life.
“Ikk,” said Zoe. “Everything associated with Valentine’s Day sucks. I gotta figure out what I’m doing here, Sophie. I have all these men, and in the end, I’m not sure I want any of them.”

“Let’s lay them out, Zo. Maybe one of them is right, maybe not. These men are just part of your present journey.”
“Well, I feel like I’ve crashed into so many guys on this journey, that the road’s getting pretty littered with bodies.”
“List them off for me.”

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February 10th 2010

PLEASE send you advice to two single women, whose lives are suddenly crashing in chaos! Zoe and Sophia, BFFs for thirty years, find themselves unexpectedly cast into the world of re-creation and redefinition after decades of being faithful wives to George and Marty. They need advice from anyone willing to offer it. For instance, what advice would you give your BFF if she asked, “HOW DO I LET GO OF THE PAIN AND BEGIN TO HEAL?” Any advice you can give to Sophia would be helpful, but this is what Zoe said.

Zoe was dog tired when she awoke the first morning back from her business trip to L.A. Sparky lay on the floor next to her snoring, so Zoe didn’t move a muscle for fear of waking her stroke-impaired Lab. She knew the minute Sparky was conscious, she’d have to race to get him outside before he jettisoned a yellow stream from his bladder. As Zoe lay there, she thought about the night before.

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February 7th

Please send your ADVICE to two single women, whose lives are suddenly crashing in chaos! Zoe and Sophia, BFFs for thirty years, find themselves unexpectedly cast into the world of re-creation and redefinition after decades of being faithful wives to George and Marty. They need advice from anyone willing to help. For instance, what advice would you give your BFF if she asked, “HOW CAN I SUSTAIN THIS PEACEFUL FEELING?” Any advice you can give to Zoe would be helpful, but this is what Sophia said.

Late one morning, Sophia lay in her bed in New Hampshire, yearning to call Zoe, who wouldn’t be home until the next night from her business trip to L.A. Sophia stayed up most of the night before obsessing on her cheating, soon-to-be-ex Marty. She needed to talk to Zoe, but the “man of the house” since Marty left, lay on top of Sophia, preventing her arm from reaching for the cell phone. This “man” was her enormous Maine Coon cat, Tolstoy. Sophia loved Tolstoy, but lately, he’d become possessive of her. Whenever she was in bed, he jumped on her chest, then spent hours cleaning Nutella chocolate spread and Chex Mix off Sophia’s cheeks and chin. This meant that poor Sophia was often pinned down for hours or until Tolstoy ran out of “food.” With all her might, Sophia pushed and poked until Tolstoy gave her a dirty look, jumped to the floor, and wondered why Sophia was being such a bitch.

Meanwhile, Zoe stood in panties and bra, studying her face in the bathroom mirror of her hotel room in L.A. She was preparing for her last day of contract negotiations with various film producers. What she saw reflected in the mirror was a certain calm she hadn’t seen in her eyes for a long time.  Since Zoe arrived in L. A., she was so overwhelmed with work, that she barely had time to think. And two days into the trip, her lap top crashed and was taking forever to be repaired. Normally, the absence her lap top, with its trusty Webcam for convenient “dating,” would cause Zoe extreme distress, but following a few hours of withdrawal anxiety, she began to feel a certain liberation from her obsessive need for virtual communication with men.

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February 3   

Please send your ADVICE to two single women, whose lives are suddenly crashing in chaos! Zoe and Sophia, BFFs for thirty years, find themselves unexpectedly cast into the world of re-creation and redefinition after decades of being faithful wives to George and Marty. They need advice from anyone willing to help. For instance, what advice would you give your BFF if she said, “HOW CAN I SLEEP AT NIGHT WITH THE GHOSTS AND THE ANGER AND PAIN?” Any advice you can give to Sophia would be helpful, but this is what Zoe said.

Zoe and Sophia stood side-by-side in panties and push-up bras, sharing the bathroom mirror at Zoe’s house. They finished slathering their bodies in moisturizer, and were now expertly working the enchantment on their eyes and lips. Sparky, Zoe’s incontinent yellow Lab lay at their feet, gazing up at them with doleful eyes. He might not be able to walk straight or control his bowels, BUT he wasn’t stupid. He knew the meaning of the packed luggage beside the front door. It meant Zoe was taking another trip. Zoe had to be at the airport in Boston by 4:00 a.m., so she decided it was best to drive from New Hampshire that night and stay in a hotel. Sophia, who was suffering from acute separation anxiety, offered to drive Zoe to Boston and see her off on her business trip to California.

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January 31

Please send your ADVICE to two single women, whose lives are suddenly crashing in chaos! Zoe and Sophia, BFFs for thirty years, find themselves unexpectedly cast into the world of re-creation and redefinition after decades of being faithful wives to George and Marty. They need advice from anyone willing to help. For instance, what advice would you give your BFF if she said, “WHAT AM I SEARCHING FOR, AND WHERE WILL I FIND IT?” Any advice you can give to Zoe would be helpful, but this is what Sophia said.

Zoe lay in her cold bed, teetering on wakefulness. Her hand felt for the long, lean gorgeous man lying next to her. Wait a minute. What was that smell? Who was licking her hand? Her eyes snapped open, and she realized she was in her own bed in New Hampshire, with her beloved, incontinent Sparky on the floor next to her. His stroke-impaired body had purged turds in the night, and Zoe knew she would have to race her sweet Lab to the door before he left a yellow stream throughout the house. As she stirred, she realized her laptop was still on her stomach, where she’d left it the night before, after a Webcam “date” with Jackson from Florida.  He was the long, lean gorgeous man whose limbs were not occupying her bed. Gingerly, she began to remove the laptop, just as an incoming email blinged its arrival. Sparky still snored, so she risked opening the message. It was from a colleague saying Zoe was booked on a business trip to L.A. in a few days. Zoe smiled, wrote back the word “Yippee,” then flung herself out of the bed and made a mad dash to the door, with Sparking running sideways behind her.

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January 27
Please send your ADVICE to two single women, whose lives are suddenly crashing in chaos! Zoe and Sophia, BFFs for thirty years, find themselves unexpectedly cast into the world of re-creation and redefinition after decades of being faithful wives to George and Marty. They need advice from anyone willing to help them. For instance, what advice would you give your BFF if she wailed, “HOW CAN I GO HOME WITH ALL THAT PAIN WAITING FOR ME? Any advice you can give to Sophia would be helpful, but this is what Zoe said.

Early on the morning of Zoe and Sophia’s last full day in Florida, Zoe found Sophia sprawled in a heap on the deck outside the guest bedroom, sobbing, of course. Zoe expected this would happen when Sophia realized the transitory nature of her escape from the searing pain of her broken marriage to Marty. Sophia stopped crying out the litany of harms, a morning ritual, when she saw Zoe’s shadow.
“Get up, Sophie. The sun’s out and we need to put the polish on our tans.”
“Jackson’s been such a good host. Oh, Zo, I’m dreading going back to New Hampshire.”
“Don’t waste precious time on that shit. We don’t leave until tomorrow. Today is today.”

“Okay. How are you doing?” Sophia asked as she struggled to her feet. Before Zoe could answer, Sophia reached out for a badly needed hug, but Zoe didn’t see her, and at that instant she bolted back indoors when she heard Jackson call her name. Consequently, Sophia wrapped her arms around air, leaned into the same then fell flat on her face. “Trust” was not a game to be played with Zoe if she was answering the call of the “nature.”

An hour later Sophia heard Zoe open Jackson’s bedroom door and heard the bathroom door bang. Fully expecting to find Zoe immersed in one of her too-many-to-count ‘afterglows,’ Sophia barged into the bathroom, boundaries being a concept they ignored with each other’s space. To her surprise, she heard Zoe weeping in the shower. Instead of letting Zoe cry alone, Sophia jerked back the curtain. Frightened, Zoe screamed and slipped on the soapy tub floor. On her way down, Zoe grabbed the shower curtain, and took both the curtain and fixtures down with her.
“Fuck sake, Sophie. Why did you scare me like that?”
“I’m concerned about you,” she said to the back of Zoe’s head, since Zoe’s face rested on the bath mat, while her legs and torso still occupied the tub. Since the curtain had lost its purpose, water spurted everywhere, not that either woman noticed.

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January 23

Thank you for the WONDERFUL ADVICE you’ve offered the two single women, whose lives are suddenly crashing in chaos! Zoe and Sophia, BFFs for thirty years, find themselves unexpectedly cast into the world of re-creation and redefinition after decades of being faithful wives to George and Marty. They need advice from anyone willing to help them. For instance, what advice would you give your BFF as she said, “HEY, SOPHIE, ARE WE “WORKERS” WHO TAKE THE BUS OR THE OTHER TYPE OF PEOPLE?” Any advice you can give to Zoe would be helpful, but this is what Sophia said.

As Zoe floated just beneath the surface of awake, she sensed things were not quite right. Where was the smell of Sparky’s nightly accidents, involuntarily purged from his rear end? Sparky was Zoe’s stoke-victim yellow Lab. Yes, he was incontinent and walked sideways, but he was the sweetest dog known to woman. Where was the cold, heavy air, sitting like a pall over her head? Where was the cough of the struggling furnace in her 1790s N. H. home? Wait a minute–who was that long, lean, gorgeous man lying next to her? Zoe’s smile awoke her. Not bothering to cover her naked body, she slipped quietly from the bed, aching to smell ocean air. She tiptoed past Sophia’s room, not wanting to wake her friend. In the soft darkness of pre-dawn, Zoe threw open the french doors leading to the deck, closed her eyes and stepped outside as the warm Florida breeze bathed her face.

Sophia was not asleep. No, she was sitting in good Buddhist meditation posture, legs crossed, hands on thighs, right outside the french doors. The serenity of the moment splintered once Zoe walked over Sophia, lost her balance and plunged, face first, on the deck. Sophia was knocked on her back when Zoe’s knees raked across her face. But Sophia, the bastion of focus, remained legs akimbo, hands still on thighs, breathing in and breathing out.
“Fuck sake, Sophie. Why there? Why right in front of the door? Not two feet to the left or right, but dead center in my path?
“Sorry, Zo,” said Sophia, swimming out of the open space of her spiritual journey, into the mired waters of Zoe’s scorn. “At least Sparky wasn’t here to pee on me. Hey, you wanna go to the Botanical Gardens today?”
“No. I want to lie by the ocean and get a tan.”
“You wanna go to the Collier County Museum?”
“No.”
“You wanna go to the Naples Information Center?”
“Fuck sake, Sophie. I want to lie on the beach all day roasting like a chicken on a spit. Anyway, go brush your teeth. Your breath is drowning out the sea air.”
“Well, you should consider doing something about your hair, Zo. Your bed head might be mistaken for a rat’s nest.”

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