Bush Sandwich

The truth will set you free. Although a commonly used phrase something I really understood this past week. No I am not some narcoleptic liar, or a paranoid fib teller, rather I had been stressing for the better part of the week to have a conversation with a very close and personal friend. Be it a friend, a family member or a significant other we have all been in that position of knowing we need to have a conversation and really not knowing what to say or how to say it. Come on you all know that time. You run through the conversation in the shower (that or bad karaoke). You argue with yourself in the car and drivers in passing cars think you are either insane (which might by partially accurate) or talking on your cell phone (can we say LA). You take long walks as you prepare your delivery and inflections. Finally you take the big plunge.

Dear we need to talk?

About what?

Ummm, this wasn’t in the script. Damn it. About our vacation, that’s right our holiday vacation.

And so the American tradition of postponement and procrastination is continued from generation to generation. But then you finally broach the subject. Amidst coffee and cake, or vodka shots and bad peanuts. You spit it out. All rehearsals of suave and debonair delivery gone right out the window. But somehow it comes from the heart and they see right in, and understand exactly what you are trying to say as the stutters and shakes overcome your poor neglected body. You say your peace and then there is the silence. You know that silence from every western movie when the good guy enters the bad guy’s bar. A silence when you can hear a pin drop or the voice from the back of the room going (more beer!). Sweat begins to form inside the seat of your pants and you begin to think, if those goes badly this will hinder my efforts to run my ass out of here. And then finally like Manna from heaven those sweet words.

Thank you for being honest. I appreciate it.

And you realize it was indeed a good decision to get that terrible awful smelling laundry out of the closet and air it out on the balcony (downwind from your apartment and upwind to your damn neighbors). That friendship can continue down the harmonious path otherwise known as the yellow brick road, only to be tested another day.

As for Bush sandwich. Grab your son’s or daughter’s history book. Look under president. It will say Bush, Clinton, Bush. Think, smile, and keep your mouth shut!