A late breakfast with my dear son and his family on Sunday morning. What could be better? Quiche, scones, homemade plum jam — they were bringing a melon and champagne. We hadn’t seen them in months and were very excited, but wait…
To make sure breakfast was warm, and since eggs cook and cool off fast, I planned to put the quiche in after they arrived. I’d never made quiche before, but how hard could it be? I reviewed the recipe for baking time as they pulled into the drive. Oooops. A very big oooops. Bake 55 minutes. Let’s be clear. I am a seasoned cook and have screwed up my share, but not checking out cooking time? For company? I must have been daft.
Everyone was starving when they arrived so they opted for melon, scones and… uh, that was it. Quiche was dessert… an hour later. (It was yummy, by the way.)
You’re probably laughing at just another kitchen disaster. Not even a disaster, really. There were no fires, no bleeding hands, no tapioca pudding cemented to the floor. The pudding is my mom’s “special” disaster, not mine. (Somewhere in the 1930’s, tapioca boiled over. A new bride waited too long to clean up the mess and it stuck fast to the floor. What else, get down on your hands and knees – probably in a dress – and chisel the mess up with the only thing you can think of, a kitchen knife.) The vivid memory of my mom puts my own little screw-up into perspective, but in my mind at the time — disappointment.
As with many of life’s little glitches, the incident grew in my mind. Blowing things out of proportion is something I do very well, but I’m working on it. Luckily, I remembered my friend’s mental trick to stop thoughts she didn’t want. “STOP IT” my mind shouted to itself. Then, out loud. “Just stop it.” I’m happy to report that this little trick to stop obsessing thoughts worked beautifully. Fixation slowly subsided as more rational thoughts moved in. “It was just a meal. This is your family, silly girl. A moment in time, forgotten in an instant my everyone but you. This was actually funny.”
I got sane once again and anxiety vanished. These moments of irrational thinking happen to everyone, and the trick is to have a trick to stop it in its tracks. I wrote in Sept., Stopping Your Runaway Brain Train, about how this trick up your sleeve nips runaway thinking before it takes you down. Life’s too short to spend a lot of time on the smallest of life’s details. Let’s see, someone wrote a book about this once. Oh yeah, Don’t Sweat the Small Stuff is the best little book ever.