Back in the day, when I was teaching costume construction and quilting classes, I told my students this: If you have made a mistake and you are unable or not inclined to fix it, try to make it look like you planned it like that from the beginning.
Is this fibbing? Prevaricating? OK, lying? No, it’s putting a good face on it, making a “save," toughing it out.
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Like the time the young man dancing the role of the corsair (the pirate) came leaping out on stage for his grand entrance, burst his chain vest and it fell to the stage floor with a loud crash, tinkle, tinkle as the audience exploded in hilarious hoots.
As costume designer and maker, I was the one who had to explain to the outraged ballet director why it happened. I told him it wasn’t that it had been constructed wrong, but that it had been planned as a symbol of the pirate breaking free of his old life to pursue the beautiful ballerina. Did the director buy it? Not really. But he gave me credit for a touching story.
Quilting mistakes are pretty hard to ignore. You can try, “Why, yes, I meant that part of the quilt block to be turned in a different direction from the others. Why do you ask? I think it points up the originality and the focus of the design, don’t you?”
Never mind that the quilt top is all together, it is quilted, bound and entered into competition before you noticed the “originality” of the one turned block and there is nothing you can do about it at this point except give them the innocent big eyes and pretend it was part of the plan.
I have to tell you, though, if you try to explain to a certified quilt judge that you actually meant to turn just that one quilt block 45 degrees as part of your original design, they will fall down laughing.
They’ve been there before. They know what happened. No ribbon for you. Nice try, though.
Sometimes, dinner for the family slips your mind and there just isn’t enough time to get to the grocery store, so you throw together what you have on hand and hope for the best. You put on a perky face and say, “Don’t you just love the sweet corn kernels and tofu I substituted for the macaroni and hamburger in this Minnesota hotdish?"
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Then, you whip out that nice chocolate pie you’ve been saving in the freezer. Yes! You put the pie on the table, so they can see it while they push the tofu around their plates. The family will eventually get over the corn casserole. They just won’t ever request it. But you and the pie made it OK.
Speaking of dinner menus, what do you do when you are seated at a formal dinner party with 11 other people, six of whom you just met, and you realize the Sauteed Chicken with Ginger and Scallions that you just tasted has about 10 times as much fresh ginger as it should have and is incredibly inedible?
No way to tough that out, short of dropping your sharp knife on your foot and necessitating a flying trip to the emergency room. At least it would also give your husband an excuse. Somebody has to drive you.
Tom and I still discuss the different ways we spent that evening, trying to hide the chicken we couldn’t manage to eat. It went under the other food on our plate, up his sleeve, stuffed in our napkins and in my purse, all while exclaiming to the hostess how delicious the food was. If lying actually makes your nose grow longer, as in the Disney movie about Pinocchio, then mine was never the same after that dinner party.
And finally, here comes your mother-in-law and what on God’s green earth has she done to her hair? It looks like an entire Chia Pet has taken up residence on her head, only it’s purple.
“Isn’t it fabulous,” she trills. “I just had it done at that new place by the mall. It was over $200, but I think it’s worth every penny." At this point, she stares hard in your direction and says, “Don’t you think so?" Oh, boy.
All you can do is overwhelm her with exuberance. “Well, Mom, it’s just so surprising, let me catch my breath. Turn around so I can see the back (as you try to stop rolling your eyes). That’s a showstopper, for sure! I’ve never seen you in that color, before. It’s stunning.”
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You’ve just spouted a mouthful of platitudes designed to make your mother-in-law feel OK about her “look” and “herself," so that’s for a good cause, right? You said nothing negative, nothing discouraging. You put your best spin on it.
But really, if it makes your mother-in-law feel happy about the train wreck on her head, then maybe it’s OK to fib convincingly. It depends on your relationship with her. The only other option is laughing hysterically and that certainly wouldn’t guarantee you a place in her will or her good graces.
You just have to be aware that inevitably, someone, sometime will mention her unusual new hair-do and thinking they are being sympathetic, will bring up stories of other hair disasters they have heard about. Your cover is blown.
You may not be able to finesse your way out of this one. After all, even though it’s worked in the past, as I admitted to my students, tough will only get you just so far.
The Trust Project
