the art of lying

i was in killington, vermont this past weekend with a group comprised of my high school friends and their husbands/BFs. i’ve been snowboarding since college, but i prefer to stick to the easy slopes, especially this year since this was my first trip where i had my own gear. *cue euphoria* i wanted to stay on the greens (beginner slopes) and blues (intermediate slopes) because i wasn’t sure how my skills would react to the absence of sub-par rental equipment.

nearing the end of the day, instead of going down a slope we’d previously done, four of us split off to try a new run, took a wrong turn, and ended up halfway across the mountain. bud and jaime quickly consulted the map.

bud: we’re going to take a blue to another blue to a black to a blue to a green and then, the lodge.

abby: *squeaks* a black?

(sidenote: a black color coded trail is for experts. i haven’t done anything past a blue on a board.)

bud and jaime exchanged a look. bud looked back down at the map and over to me: ok, new route, all blues.

and off we went.

except, we didn’t take all blues. bud had lied. we took the original path he had suggested. that was the fastest way down and with the pouring rain and sore muscles setting in, it was the way we had to go. yes, kids, i went down a black diamond trail and lived to tell the tale. granted, i went about it in a sissy manner and grated my way down the steep portion instead of executing proper turns, but hey, i had survival on the brain. i merely wanted to come back in one piece. so, mission accomplished. and snowboarding outside my comfort zone? mission further accomplished.

later, we were all safely ensconced in the warm and, more importantly, dry condo and were enjoying some post exercise cocktails and appetizers. the heat from the fireplace plus the warmth of nine people tucked into a small space sent the temperatures inside soaring.

POP.

i almost choked on the carrot i was eating the noise was so loud and unexpected. but the ringing in my ears sounded vaguely familiar. after a second of thinking, i was able to place why. and then, i almost choked again, but this time it was on my own laughter. you see, julie and jaime’s birthdays are in march and we were planning a small, secret celebration. balloons had been blown up and hidden upstairs, but you know how heat rises and rubber expands and all that science-y stuff? yeah, one of the balloons popped and our secret was about to blow up in our faces.

with everyone staring at each other — us in the know with guilty looks on our faces and jaime and julie with confused looks — a lie slipped out of carrie’s mouth. “it was the pot. i’m filling it with hot water for the pasta.”

neither jaime nor julie bought it.

caitlin quickly covered. “i think it was this bag of chips.” that plus the guilty look on her face sufficed. both birthday girls believed it.

two lies (ok, three) in one day. one got a girl out of her comfort zone and into the realization that she can handle it when scary slaps her in the face while the other kept the surprise a secret until the big reveal later that night.

i’m beginning to think that perhaps the art of lying is merely the power of persuasion incognito.

Advertisements

Tags: , , ,

8 Responses to “the art of lying”

  1. Linda G. Says:

    Black diamond on a board? Wow! You are such a bad*ss! I’m proud of you. :)

    And of course you can lie. You’re a writer. ;)

    • abby mumford Says:

      it was scary! yet, i’m glad to know my skills are better than my confidence in them.

      HA. tis true. this post could have been called the art of writing.

  2. adriana Says:

    yay for doing scary things without knowing you’re doing them until later! it’s like when your parents teach you how to ride a bike, “of course i’m not going to let go, honey!” :))

    and great point about writing = lying. lie on!

    • abby mumford Says:

      that’s exactly right! our parents lie to us all the time, with the best intentions of course. that’s what i mean about it being the power of persuasion. if you think the lie is a truth, it then becomes a truth.

      wow. deep thoughts on a tuesday morning.

  3. rhymes with schmar-bage Says:

    I’m a bunny sloper, myself. Sometimes I venture out onto the bunny’s slightly more intimidating older sister, the blues. No thank you, black trail. I’m a slope crier, that’s what I am, so I give you a huge high five for being so cool about being lied to/persuaded!

    • abby mumford Says:

      the names you give yourself are almost as funny as the comments you leave. and there is nothing wrong with the bunny slopes. they’re safe and fun is safe. at least, in my book.

  4. Kelly B Says:

    I like your version of the lie way better than my Grams. Just saying.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s


%d bloggers like this: