My latest quilting projects have been slam dunk fun. In the time it takes for my friend to do a double shift at the hospital I can finish a beautiful coverlet that will last for many years. They are not perfect by any stretch, but I love them. One is made of fabric sprinkled in leaves, with pomegranate and gold spirals radiating across it.
Another is from an animal print and the textures of giraffe, leopard and zebra skin create cool hexagons.
I posted pictures on Facebook and the reaction was huge. Superlatives and exclamation points appeared in a ribbon of comments, and several asked to see them in person. Friends stopped by for a peek.
It was fascinating to me to see the downgrade from women who came. They were less impressed with the real thing that they had been with the
picture. No one said as much but faces tell the truth.
Actually, I had to agree. It is hard to understand but they do look more amazing in a status report than they did splayed on the couch. Maybe it is the wrinkles that are more visible up close, or the way they blend in with the ordinary decor of my living room which includes piles of books, dirty dishes and laptops with snaking cords. When I snapped photos I tried to leave those distractions
out.
Still I would rather have a real quilt with its imperfections. A picture will never keep me warm.
I started to think about some of the photos I see when I check Facebook. There are images of smiling couples dining at fancy restaurants, and people on vacation at the beach. It is easy to assume that their lives are warmer and more ideal than mine. It occurred to me that perhaps their relationships are just as messy as my living room.
But in the process of editing out the less than lovely parts, there is an illusion of grandeur.
Still I would rather have a real marriage with its imperfections. A photoshopped one will never keep me warm.
