I ran into an old co-worker/family friend today. And, silly me, when I saw her, I was mostly expecting some small talk. A few programmed responses, smile, and done.

Let’s be honest. This may be the single most wholesome person I know. Or, at least… it was, until she asked me what burlesque was. (It’s possible I would have answered more delicately, if I’d known she was talking about my cousin. Possible. Not probable.)

Rules For Small Town Living: In a small town, they are always talking about your family.

She asked me how my aunt is. And I was prepared for that one. (Official Story: Fine, Dammit. Cancer gone. Margins cleared. Going back to work. Running Ultra-Marathon. Barefoot. Through burning rubble. Truth: How would I know?)

AND THEN… She asked how my aunt’s grand-baby is doing.

Huh?

I don’t have the faintest idea. Didn’t know there was anything to ask about, though. I’m never sure how to answer a question, when I’m sure the person asking knows more about the answer than I do.