Time to change?

I did it again.  I tried to improve my recipe for oatmeal bread that I’ve been using for years.  I suppose over the years I’ve made the original recipe a little more “me” by adding wheat germ, flax, and sunflower seeds along with whole wheat flour.  But since then I’ve just been enjoying a good thing.  Until the other night when I wondered if I could make it even more moist.  Like a couple of other whole wheat bread recipes I’d tried recently.  So I left the dough much stickier than usual.  It wasn’t the same.  Shorter, inferior loaves.  Sigh.  Why do I keep learning this lesson the hard way?

Awhile back I also tweaked a pumpkin muffin recipe and made a healthier, chocolate version, loved it.  We all did, our home version of the Costco variety.  But then I tried to make them even healthier (figured the dark chocolate would conceal some of the healthy grains) and they rebelled: what are all these flakes? (Dejectedly, I admitted I’d tried to hide some wheat germ.)  I’m learning.  But I’m disappointed that I keep learning.  I should know better, especially when it comes to recipes that I’ve been using for years.  I found the perfect chocolate chip cookie recipe in college.  I’ve made it hundreds of times.  Every now and then I wonder if there’s something better.  On occasion I’ve tweaked it.  Or tried a version touted to be “the world’s best cookie.”  We’re always disappointed.  I’ve learned that this is just my go-to recipe when I want cookies.  I have a handwritten recipe book that has my favorites.  I know which white bread I love to make, my bread sticks are in there.  I have a favorite spaghetti sauce and fresh strawberry pie.  I know which hot fudge and caramel sauces work.  My favorite sugar cookie recipe’s safely tucked inside.  I’ve tried a million different recipes and have landed on a few that are just right.  Why, then, even after years of making them, do I think I need to mess with them?  I’m usually good at this, I’m a pretty content person.  I’m definitely a “less is more” soul, pretty happy with the way things mostly are.  So it kind of makes me wonder why I still sometimes take off.

I suppose because I’m such a low risk taker, I think it would be good for me to try new things, to experiment, to get out of my rut.  At the same time I’m all about goals and improving—I’m just normally pretty cautious about what I set out to change.  I think this is where things get dicey.  It really is a balancing act, and I suppose we all walk the line.  Recognizing when we should be satisfied and have something worth hanging on to and when we’re just being complacent and lazy and could probably take things up a notch.  Maybe like on the Price is Right.  When to walk away with a great day’s pay or hold on to the hope that behind that fake wall is “A NEW CAR!!!” (you know how the guy would announce it).

I remember a couple of years ago visiting my sister in a bigger city, coming home and feeling frumpy.  I never think about my clothes until I have to pack for a trip.  I just wear a warm shirt and jeans with boots if it’s cold outside and short sleeves with shorts and sandals when it’s hot. But when it’s time to travel I wonder, what’s in style?  I have jeans, but what else do I pack?  I never care, so I never know.  But I must’ve been turning 40 and going through some stage because all of a sudden after that trip I decided it was time to re-evaluate.  So I thought about what style I’ve always loved but could never see myself in: peasant, bohemian with long, flowy skirts, romantic light weight tops with jewels and bangles.  So I bought a few pieces.  I put on the long, effortless, somewhat wrinkly skirt for church the next day with a belt and a billowy top.  Todd—my ever honest confidant—confirmed my suspicions:  “It looks like you’re trying too hard.”  I knew it.  I felt like I was playing dress up.  I changed in our closet and came out with a typical Caren outfit:  short black pencil skirt, tailored classic button down blouse, and summer heels.  I sighed with comfort.  I was home.  He also nodded in recognition.  This was the Caren we knew and were familiar with.  I didn’t even care if it was stylish or not.  Probably not since I never look at fashion magazines or go shopping (except if my jeans get a hole in them).  Not to say the bohemian look isn’t still on my wish-list, but I wonder why I felt a need to go outside of what has been my signature style for years and years.  I feel as at home in classic, tailored pieces as I feel lost in the folds of romantic, flowy ensembles that I sometimes still eye and wonder about.  I’ve compromised with a few bits of bigger jewelry, but even owning them, I almost always revert back to my go-with-everything-even though-no-one’s-even-looking-silver hoops I’ve worn forever.  So me.

I’m not saying it’s never a good idea to shake things up a bit.  But I wonder if my 15 year old son could come up with a formula to determine when it’s time to break the monotony and make some improvements and when to be content and bask in a good thing.  When I’m being honest with myself, I know what works and what needs some tweaking.  I do best with an early-ish bedtime, an hour alone before the house wakes up, a couple pairs of regular jeans, no-nonsense short hair and nails, a few commitments sprinkled amid an otherwise flexible schedule, a stack of books littering my bedside beckoning me—not one is sci-fi or fantasy.  I know myself enough to know I don’t need to go wake-boarding to prove anything, I get grumpy when I’m cold, tired, or hungry (I know, like a small child), and I do best in little groups.  But there are some areas that I’d be willing to go out of my comfort zone for.  It’d be good to travel with my family a bit more, I have a lot of books I want to read but don’t feel smart enough for—I should just try them and take it slowly.  There are people I want to connect with but I’m a little nervous about.  I want to find my long-lost relatives but I have had pretty bad luck so far.  I want to be more present for my kids, less condescending, you don’t need the list.  Basically, there are enough things I can tinker with.  I don’t need to go messing with a good chocolate chip cookie.  And all those bohemian bangles would get in my bread dough.