Saturday, July 12, 2008
How A Friendship Restarted
It is quiet here at the Spanko homestead, something which is sure not to last. This does, though, give me an opportunity to elaborate on our ongoing relationship with our friend, Liz.
Back when I was recently graduated from college, Liz and I spent a nasty weekend, weatherwise, being, well, nasty. Less than a month later, Liz took a new job in Florida, where the weather is much less nasty, and least as long as there are no hurricanes around. I did not see or hear from Liz again until about 10 years ago. I was puttering around the yard one Saturday when a car pulled up in the driveway, and a very well-put-together lady got out. She looked vaguely familiar, and when she walked up to me and said, “Remember me?” I knew immediately that it was Liz.
We shared a brief hug and the usual pleasantries, and then I invited her inside for a glass of lemonade. I introduced her to Angela and Colette (Maribel was off visiting a friend at the time), poured beverages for all of us, and we then (minus Colette who was busy watching video tapes of The Muppetts) retired to the living room. I had long ago shared with Angela how I knew Liz, and that we had, shall we say, seen each other naked, so Angela did not appear snarky when meeting Liz, and actually seemed to take an instant liking to her.
Apparently, Liz had found an article on the internet (yes, the internet did exist ten years ago) from our local newspaper regarding our somewhat unique home that was build in an old apple barn. Sometime later, she decided to see if she could find me. It was what led her to seek me out that is the crux of today’s tale.
It seems that Liz’s life had become a sad story of extremes. A few years after moving to Florida, Liz had entered into a tech industry business venture with a gentleman whom she would later marry. When the economic period commonly referred to as the “dot com boom,” (a rather silly sobriquet if you ask me) arrived, Liz’s business exploded and she and her husband became quite successful. They sold their business, made an incredible sum of money, and settled down to live the “good life.”
Unfortunately, the “good life” isn’t always so good. Liz and her husband found themselves bored after working constantly for many years, so they used their money to try to find fulfillment. They build an extravagant house, they traveled extensively, they partied frequently. Everything they owned had to be the best and most trendy. The money began to disappear. The husband began to seek fulfillment in the arms of other women.
Suddenly, Liz found herself pregnant. Her husband swore to cease his promiscuity and they thought that the soon-to-be-baby would help them fill the holes in their lives. However, two months later, Liz miscarried. The miscarriage took a considerable physical toll on Liz and she was in the hospital for two weeks. When she returned home, her husband informed her that he was leaving her.
Liz responded by making the divorce as difficult as possible. When she wasn’t talking with her lawyer, Liz was either throwing lavish parties or buying expensive clothes. What was left of her money quickly disappeared. When her lawyer called to tell her that her latest check had bounced, Liz exploded. She broke everything breakable in the house and tried to kill herself by drinking an entire bottle of vodka.
Fortunately, the vodka was very expensive vodka, and very good. She decided if she was going to die, she was going to enjoy her last hours. She sat down, put her feet up, put on some music (she couldn’t bear to break the stereo), poured herself a large glass of booze, savored it, and proceeded to pass out. When she awoke, the rage and urge to end it all had rescinded. She said she got into her car and started driving, with no destination in mind. Several states later, she realized that she was in my state, remembered what city I lived in, drove there, found a phone book, found my address, and decided on a visit.
When she concluded her tale, we were all quiet for a moment. Then I asked, “So what made you decide to look me up?”
Liz replied, “I just thought you’d know what I need to get through this.”
Angela snorted. That in itself is enough to get my attention. Angela rarely snorts. When she does, it is usually because she believes that she has just encountered what one might commonly refer to as bullshit.
We both stared at Angela for what seemed like an eternity. Angela stared back, then got up and headed towards the kitchen.
“What she needs,” Angela said with barely concealed contempt as she walked away, “is a damn good spanking.”
“Now, my dear,” I responded, “I’m sure that there are better ways….”
Liz interrupted. “No, she’s right. That’s exactly what I need. I need someone to just beat my ass good!”
And here is where the tale must end for now. There will be time later to proceed with this recounting. However, for now, I have other fantastic activities to which I must attend.
Back when I was recently graduated from college, Liz and I spent a nasty weekend, weatherwise, being, well, nasty. Less than a month later, Liz took a new job in Florida, where the weather is much less nasty, and least as long as there are no hurricanes around. I did not see or hear from Liz again until about 10 years ago. I was puttering around the yard one Saturday when a car pulled up in the driveway, and a very well-put-together lady got out. She looked vaguely familiar, and when she walked up to me and said, “Remember me?” I knew immediately that it was Liz.
We shared a brief hug and the usual pleasantries, and then I invited her inside for a glass of lemonade. I introduced her to Angela and Colette (Maribel was off visiting a friend at the time), poured beverages for all of us, and we then (minus Colette who was busy watching video tapes of The Muppetts) retired to the living room. I had long ago shared with Angela how I knew Liz, and that we had, shall we say, seen each other naked, so Angela did not appear snarky when meeting Liz, and actually seemed to take an instant liking to her.
Apparently, Liz had found an article on the internet (yes, the internet did exist ten years ago) from our local newspaper regarding our somewhat unique home that was build in an old apple barn. Sometime later, she decided to see if she could find me. It was what led her to seek me out that is the crux of today’s tale.
It seems that Liz’s life had become a sad story of extremes. A few years after moving to Florida, Liz had entered into a tech industry business venture with a gentleman whom she would later marry. When the economic period commonly referred to as the “dot com boom,” (a rather silly sobriquet if you ask me) arrived, Liz’s business exploded and she and her husband became quite successful. They sold their business, made an incredible sum of money, and settled down to live the “good life.”
Unfortunately, the “good life” isn’t always so good. Liz and her husband found themselves bored after working constantly for many years, so they used their money to try to find fulfillment. They build an extravagant house, they traveled extensively, they partied frequently. Everything they owned had to be the best and most trendy. The money began to disappear. The husband began to seek fulfillment in the arms of other women.
Suddenly, Liz found herself pregnant. Her husband swore to cease his promiscuity and they thought that the soon-to-be-baby would help them fill the holes in their lives. However, two months later, Liz miscarried. The miscarriage took a considerable physical toll on Liz and she was in the hospital for two weeks. When she returned home, her husband informed her that he was leaving her.
Liz responded by making the divorce as difficult as possible. When she wasn’t talking with her lawyer, Liz was either throwing lavish parties or buying expensive clothes. What was left of her money quickly disappeared. When her lawyer called to tell her that her latest check had bounced, Liz exploded. She broke everything breakable in the house and tried to kill herself by drinking an entire bottle of vodka.
Fortunately, the vodka was very expensive vodka, and very good. She decided if she was going to die, she was going to enjoy her last hours. She sat down, put her feet up, put on some music (she couldn’t bear to break the stereo), poured herself a large glass of booze, savored it, and proceeded to pass out. When she awoke, the rage and urge to end it all had rescinded. She said she got into her car and started driving, with no destination in mind. Several states later, she realized that she was in my state, remembered what city I lived in, drove there, found a phone book, found my address, and decided on a visit.
When she concluded her tale, we were all quiet for a moment. Then I asked, “So what made you decide to look me up?”
Liz replied, “I just thought you’d know what I need to get through this.”
Angela snorted. That in itself is enough to get my attention. Angela rarely snorts. When she does, it is usually because she believes that she has just encountered what one might commonly refer to as bullshit.
We both stared at Angela for what seemed like an eternity. Angela stared back, then got up and headed towards the kitchen.
“What she needs,” Angela said with barely concealed contempt as she walked away, “is a damn good spanking.”
“Now, my dear,” I responded, “I’m sure that there are better ways….”
Liz interrupted. “No, she’s right. That’s exactly what I need. I need someone to just beat my ass good!”
And here is where the tale must end for now. There will be time later to proceed with this recounting. However, for now, I have other fantastic activities to which I must attend.
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My Dearest Lee -
Because my author is lazy and, rather than having to continuously come up with fresh ideas, wishes to make one idea cover several posts.
Regards,
Frank
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Because my author is lazy and, rather than having to continuously come up with fresh ideas, wishes to make one idea cover several posts.
Regards,
Frank
<< Home
