Imposter Syndrome Starts Here

One of my apple pies.

What are you good at? Baking brownies? Sorting other people’s hoarded stuff? Raising tomatoes from seed?

Your job?

In my part of Vermont, a compliment is best answered with another in return. “I love your new jacket!” “Thanks, your hand-knit mittens are such a great family treasure, did you mother do them?”

If you can’t make one of those answers — for instance, if the couple walking down the road stops and says “Your garden looks great” and you don’t know who they are or you have no clue whether they grow a better one themselves — you duck your head with a shy smile and say “Got lucky this year.” If even that can’t be avoided (“Been walking past this place ever since you put those trees in, you’ve done a great job landscaping”), you can deflect the credit (“had a friend helping with a green thumb”) or, if you are very clever and quick, you can turn the compliment back with “What a good eye you have for those changes.”

Once in a great while, the opposite takes place: I say “Your apple pie is the best I’ve tasted” and Liz says “Thanks, I love improving it and sharing it. Have another slice.” Although I have to admit, the last time this happened, Liz told me instead, “Oh, that’s because it’s Mrs. B’s recipe, I’ll send it to you.” Thanks, Liz. (PS It was a really excellent pie. Better than what I’ve done with that same…