Being me

Last night, I burned all of the maple sap that I had been boiling down since Saturday. It was easily done. After dinner, I poured the almost one gallon’s worth of sap collected that day into the shallow pan, turned on the two-burner electric stovetop on the porch and went to do my homework. Some two hours later, it was burnt sugar, mostly.

I was furious. Jumping up and down in the kitchen, I yelled to the universe and to Stephen who was standing there, “I AM AN IDIOT.”

“Don’t say that,” he said to me.

I can’t remember if I jumped up and down a few more times, but I know I yelled again, “I AM AN IDIOT.”

He didn’t question my adamancy any further.

And as serious as I thought it was in the moment, the burning of some four days worth of effort, I actually couldn’t muster much more than that.

“I’m just so frustrated being me,” I said to that dear husband of mine.

I imagine that he must have been into conversation because he asked me, “What is it about being you that is so frustrating?”

I never answered his question.

I strained the hot burned sugar syrup through a felt liner, buttered a shallow dish and poured it in, thinking it would form some sort of maple brittle. I chopped up some of the smoked almonds from a tin in the pantry, sprinkled them on top, and left the kitchen to feel sorry for my distraction in the living room.

Again, I couldn’t muster that much ire. This morning, I was thankful that I didn’t start a fire on the porch.

Underneath the loss is the true knowledge that a couple of days ago I saw that I was creating maple syrup. I wasn’t sure whether to pour it off into a jar, to carefully process it on the kitchen stove later, or to pour new sap in. I asked Stephen what he thought and he seemed to agree with me that for the consistency of the batch, keeping the same pan going would be the best thing to do. With the increased sugar content, the new sap was evaporating much faster. But I knew there was the chance of burning – in fact this morning I told Stephen that I knew that the syrup would burn.

So if I had to articulate what it is that is frustrating about being me, I would answer that I am tired of knowing exactly what needs to be done and not doing it.

And why I do that, I have no idea.

Although now I know that the consequence, at least in this particular instance, is the burning of four days of maple sap.

The maple candy I hoped I was making didn’t get hard enough, and tomorrow, when I make a variety of bread for the “Awakening the Dreamer” workshop on Saturday, I shall use that thick, but soft, maple candy with smoked almonds as the bottom layer for the most wonderful sticky buns ever. I know it to be true, because there is at least five gallons of home-collected maple sap in the recipe.

I supposed that if we're not going to listen to that inner voice of wisdom, we just have to keep on going and it all, surprisingly, turns out in the end.

The late Dr. Howard Patton used to say, "It is what it is," and I have to admit that's my experience being me.