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Posts Tagged ‘Stephen King novels’

Zoe & Sophia Enjoy Fine Dining (again) and Flee to Florida as the Sublime Consumers of the Lightness of Being

January 17th, 2010 Comments off

January 17th

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 cried, WHY CAN’T I BE STRONG LIKE A TREE INSTEAD OF FRAIL LIKE A LEAF FLUNG ABOUT IN A FURIOUS WIND ? Any advice you can give to Zoe would be helpful, but this is what Sophia said.

Zoe sat at her kitchen table thinking about her first face-to-face meeting with Jackson from Florida in two days. She envisioned them as characters in a film, reunited after a long separation, running in slow motion then falling into each other’s arms and whirling round in a blissful blur. Smiling at the visual, her thoughts next turned to Walter–the guy who likes travel.  He  called and asked if she wanted to “date” for an hour or so. But Zoe wanted to stay “fresh” for Jackson, and anyway she was still weighing whether Walter was arrogant or just confident. Until she figured that out, she thought it best to avoid him. Almost against her will, Zoe’s thoughts suddenly floated, the way thoughts do, into an unchartered, unprotected area somewhere deep inside. In this place she began thinking about Ron. Although she hadn’t seen him in years, she did contact him after her split with George, and they spoke on the phone a few times. But Ron was tricky because he was the one man on earth for whom Zoe brandished the sword that always turned inward, that sense of loss for something she never quite had. Ron was the object of her unrequited love.

To shake the echoes of that buried hurt, one that still swam to the surface, Zoe took a shower, thinking she might wash the echoes away. When the hot splinters of water failed to dilute her feelings, she sat down and Googled his name as she had many times in the preceding months. Ron’s bio popped right up. He was now a divorcee and a high-ranking executive in the Chicago branch of the same corporation he worked for in Boston, when Zoe knew him, before she married George. His bio was apparent because he authored two well-received books on how to motivate employees hydraulically bound to corporate feudalism. The thrust of Ron’s advice (to get the sheep to stampede off a cliff and like it) was interactive communication, positive reinforcement, honesty, integrity and a host of other strategies he no doubt found in some Carl Rogers’ book on psychology. Ironically, these were qualities Ron steadfastly refused to apply to his relationship with Zoe. As the old pit gnawed at Zoe’s stomach, while new tears sprung from her eyes, Sophia burst through the door in a dither, startling Sparky from his slumber. He lay in a dog bed dotted with hard turds his body involuntarily purged during his nap.

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Zoe & Sophia Enjoy Heavy Breathing and Recall Their Sexy Twenties as the Sublime Consumers of the Lightness of Being

January 14th, 2010 14 comments

January 13

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 give it. For instance, what advice would you give your BFF as she cried, I RAN INTO MY EX’S GIRLFRIEND AT THE GYM, AND I COULDN’T REFRAIN FROM STARING IN HER EYES AS I POINTED AT HER GROSS THIGHS? Any advice you can give to Sophia would be helpful, but this is what Zoe said.

Sophia stood looking at the piles of summer clothes on the floor of her bedroom. With Zoe’s help, Sophia managed to clean up the plates she broke a few days before, on the afternoon when her despair reached such a pitch that she danced around her living room in a grass Hula skirt, singing to the heavens in her pathetic attempt to expunge cheating Marty from her heart. But the clothes she danced on, amidst the broken pottery, merely shifted from the living room to the bedroom, and she still hadn’t begun packing for their trip to Florida.  Sophia knew that when things became overwhelming, it was difficult for her to START somewhere. So, once again, she stepped around the clothes piles and headed downstairs to begin cooking dinner for Zoe who would be joining her shortly.

As she stoked the fire in her chilly 1770s N. H. home on Lake Winnipesaukee, her phone jingled.
“Hi, Zo.”
“Hey, Sophie. I’m on my way. I have to bring Sparky though. George won’t look after him tonight.” George was Zoe’s soon-to-be-ex who lived in the cottage on the same property as Zoe’s large 1790s home, five miles down the road from Sophia.
“No, prob,” said Sophia, but she wasn’t thrilled. The last time Sparky (Zoe’s incontinent, stroke-victim yellow Lab) came to the house, he limped around until he found the cat food and consumed it. After that, he shoved his nose into the crap in the cat box, and just as he was about to enjoy “dessert,” Sophia shrieked at him, alarming the poor thing, and he peed involuntarily all over Sophia’s mudroom. Good times.

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Zoe & Sophia Enjoy a “Sleepy” Webcam Morning and Rethink Dancing for An Interstate Audience

January 11th, 2010 11 comments

January 11th 2010

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 be so generous. For instance, what advice would you give your BFF as she cried, “I CAN’T SEEM TO PLEASE ANYONE–WHAT DO I DO?”Any advice you can give to Zoe would be helpful, but this is what Sophia said.

Just before dawn broke on a Sunday morning in early January, Zoe awoke to the second day of solid snowfall. The last thing she remembered before going to sleep was lying in bed with her laptop on her stomach watching “Nurse Betty.” Sophia was lying next to her engaged in a text war with her soon-to-be-ex Marty. But when Zoe looked to her left, all she saw was her laptop lying where Sophia had been. Sparky, Zoe’s incontinent stoke-victim yellow Lab, was asleep on his pad on the floor, surrounded by sizable turds his bottom had purged involuntarily during the night. Just as every other morning, Zoe knew the moment she stirred, she would have to race Sparky to the back door and get him outside before his bladder let loose in a steady stream all over the floor. Silently she counted “one, two, three…GO.” Zoe grabbed Sparky’s collar and made a mad dash through the kitchen, then pulled open the door and shoved him gently through it.

What Zoe didn’t know was that Sophia was sitting outside the door doing a Buddhist meditation. The train wreck which followed occurred when Sparky tried to go up and over Sophia to relieve himself. He knocked Sophia out of her proper meditation posture, and she lay sideways with her legs still akimbo and her face smashed into the yellowed snow. Because it was not yet light, Zoe didn’t see Sophia, so she tripped over her and landed face down in the white powder, barely missing poor Sparky. Zoe pulled herself into a crouching position and squeezed Sparky’s mid-section, helping the dog express the last of his urine. Throughout, Sophia remained, like a wooden Buddha, lying cross-legged on her side.

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