Detour or scenic route?

"The best-laid schemes o' mice an' men
Gang aft agley."
~ Robert Burns, "To a Mouse," 1785

      Behold, a succinct description of one of my life's big traps. If you're not completely into the flow of late-18th century Scottish poetry, consider its mid-20th century interpretation by the wondrous John Steinbeck: "The best-laid plans of mice and men often go awry." There's also an old Yiddish proverb that's always struck me as quite similar: "Man plans, God laughs."
     Though I'm not sold on deities of any stripe, I appreciate the sentiment.
     Because no matter how many to-do lists you scribble, how many reminders you type into Google Calendar, no matter how many promises you make to yourself that this time, come hell or high water, Project X is going to get done in a timely fashion ... well, you know.
     Life tends to happen. And I, like most others, freak out about it unnecessarily.
     Take this whole blogging thing. I've begun writing and rewriting this post about four times this week. Life and work keep interrupting my flow, and I'm many days behind where I want to be.
     Then there's the little experiment sitting in my kitchen right now. We're having a family party Saturday afternoon — this afternoon, now — and I was asked to contribute a sugar-free cake alternative as an option for a few diabetics who will be in attendance. I've done a sugar-free Boston Creme cake before to good reviews. I figured I'd try to do them in a cupcake form for ease of packaging/transport this time. Well, the cake turned out fine, but I had the brainwave to freeze the pudding, thinking it might be easier to initially cut and deposit into the little cakey cubbyholes. Except, I froze it quite too solid. Smooth move, Laura. *facepalm* ... Really, it seemed logical at the time.
     So here I sit, having a little extra time to get back to this post while the pudding thaws to a cuttable consistency. And we have to be where we're going in ... oh ... four and a half hours.
     *facepalm, facepalm, facepalm*
     You're laughing at me again, aren't you?

   

DIY pudding pops?

Voila! Boston Creme...

     Oddly, though, it appears to have turned out OK. The thawing didn't actually take forever. The parts all seem edible. The whole looks good, and the assembled cakes are now chilling in the refrigerator until we leave. Hopefully they'll taste good. And if they don't, c'est la vie. There will be enough other food to feed a platoon of hungry Marines.
     There's a lesson here. One that doesn't have to do with handy-dandy sugar-free cupcakes.
     It's that letting go of your stressors and letting chance take the reins is not a bad thing. Because, in the end, if you relax and let a situation unspool, a solution usually will present itself.
     Notice I did not say "the correct solution." Because "correct" is in the eye of the beholder.
     Let's face it, life is totally random. Problem is, we silly humans like to think we absolutely NEED to have crib notes for all occasions. We tend to fear that which we do not understand. A kink in a recipe? Gasp! A new direction to drive? Augh! A new person to meet? The horror! So many of us fall victim to the same trap of fear over and over again. We wring our hands and look for a way back to our comfort zones. Maybe, we think, if we study hard enough, or wish hard enough, or plot and plan and snap ourselves to death, we'll see a solution.
     What we forget is that it's all right not to know everything, and that sometimes no solution is the solution. We forget that life just IS. We don't have to explain it, we don't have to worry about what happens next. All we need to do is make a concerted effort to take a look around and appreciate the beauty of the now of our lives and just go with it.
     We need to learn how to let go of that breath we've been holding while waiting for the other shoe to drop; especially when it may never have been on someone's foot in the first place. Chance and change are there to enjoy, not fear.
     Perhaps, instead of Robert Burns or John Steinbeck, we — I —should consider another fount of wisdom: Dr. Sidney Freedman.
     OK, I know he's fictional. (For those who don't know Sidney, he was a recurring character — a psychiatrist — on M*A*S*H, one of my favorite TV shows.) But his final piece of dialogue in the series' last episode is an appropriate thought to leave you with this morning:

    "You know, I told you people something a long time ago, and it's just as pertinent today as it was then. Ladies and gentlemen, take my advice — pull down your pants and slide on the ice."