Where does the time go?  Last week we had 93 days until Christmas.  Now here we are, Sunday, September 30 and there are only 86 days left.  I haven’t even started my fruit cakes yet.  Today is the birthday of Angie Dickinson, Elie Wiesel and Jim Sasser.  On this day, in 1452, the first book – Johann Guttenberg’s Bible – was published, Gershwin’s “Porgy and Bess” premiered in Boston in 1935 and, in 1960, on Howdy Doody’s last show Clarabelle finally talks saying, “Goodbye kids.”  Today is also Botswana Day in, of all places, Botswana and it is Gold Star Mother’s Day here in the US.

Have you ever noticed that people don’t always say what they really mean?  A person is walking down the street and bumps into someone.  They apologize for not watching where they were going and the bumpee says, “Oh that’s okay.”  What he or she is probably thinking is “Great!  I just spilled half of my $6 cup of coffee down the front of my jacket, so I should look great at my interview.  I don’t suppose it ever occurred to you to actually watch where you were going.”  

You ask a friend how they are feeling, they say great and then a week later you find out that they are going in for a hip replacement.  You ask your co-worker, Bob, how things are going, he says things are fine and then you read the flyer announcing the fund raiser to help replace what Bob and Lois lost when their house burned down.  Why can’t we just be honest?  Is it because we don’t really want to discuss our personal lives?  Do we feel that our private life is none of their business?

If that is the case, when someone asks how you are, just say, “I guess I’m okay, but I could use a long vacation where nobody knows who I am or a winning lottery ticket.”  Or you can say, “Terrible.  My allergies are driving me nuts, my car needs $1200 in repairs, my back porch fell off my house and I think I have malaria.  How are you?”  That should keep them from bothering you in the future.

I like to watch the cooking shows on the Food Network and Cooking Channel and I am always amazed at how everything is delicious, fabulous, perfect or fantastic.  Just once wouldn’t you like to see the host taste something, make a face and say, “Ooh.  That didn’t come out the way I thought it would.”  Or have them taste something, spit it out and (like my one grandson used to do when he ate something he didn’t like) wipe their tongue with a napkin and ask, “What the hell happened there?  Apparently, those ingredients should not be combined.”

So let’s all try being more open and honest.  You don’t need to tell me how it went.  I’m sure that over time you will get to know a whole new group of people who like honesty.  In the meantime, just relax and sing to Bess to let her know that she is your woman now.