Have you ever heard of an apologetic chocolate cake?

"brunch" at work: Mile High 5 Layer Chocolate Cake

I apologize for myself quite often. Not verbally, but mentally.

Don't get me wrong - I'm just as obstinate, if not more, than the next person, especially when it comes to being right. Just ask, well, just about anyone who knows me :) On the flip side, I feel I am fairly apt at pinpointing situations where a heartfelt apology is due. But when it comes to expressing myself fully in the way I would be most "honestly" expressed, I often quell my inner urge to act how I truly feel.

Case in point: I attended an info session tonight for a TEFL course (If I know my audience, you all know EXACTLY what this acronym stands for, but just in case: Teaching English as a Foreign Language). As attendees tossed around stories of living abroad, teaching abroad, learning languages and cultures, sharing their own language and culture - my excitement grew and grew. People's hands were flying up to add their 2 cents, and others were interrupting each other in exuberant haste. But I calmly sat back and watched, taking in every perspective before carefully crafting the wording for my own, to be shared only in the instance of a lull in the conversation. My instict was to stand up and shout with enthusiasm or, in this arena, at least share some stories of my own (I feel like I have a few good nuggets), but instead I sat and watched.

Another example: singing in the car. I've been known to belt out a good tune here or there. In fact, all the way home from the aforementioned info session I dubbed my own version over every song I heard come on the radio, whether I knew the actual lyrics or not. However, at each stoplight and, for that matter, at each high note, I became very self aware and apologetic. It's as if I was telling myself, "Ok, that was fun. Now get a grip." But there is so much people like me can learn from people like the guy who pulls up next to me at the stoplight: head bobbing, finger tapping, vocal chords straining, dreadlocks flying...

I often find myself in an over the top, ecstatically delicious, multi-layered, sickeningly amazing mood. The Mile High 5 Layer Chocolate Cake doesn't apologize - why should I?

My way

S'mores, the real kind:
1/2 Hershey's chocolate bar, 2 marshmallows, 2 graham crackers
Instructions: create sandwich, wrap in foil, set near coals and turn frequently until squishy and melty, avoiding third degree burns if possible. Eat and enjoy, smearing as much chocolate on your face as possible.

On a recent camping trip with friends, I learned that the majority of people I know grew up making S'mores the wrong way. Instead of the above (read: correct) recipe, they have been cutting important corners and simply roasting the 'mallow and shoving it in the cold chocolate/cracker-wich, thus bypassing the all important warming of the cracker and chocolate. Of my fellow campers, my sister was the ONLY person who understood the importance of the foil-wrapped version: you know what they say about great minds...

This led me to think about how many things I know are "correct" that are so completely "incorrect" to anyone outside my household. Most of these practices are food-related: mayonnaise on grilled cheese sandwiches (I tried to make this for kids I was babysitting once, and it did NOT go over well), pickles in hash browns, couscous as a main dish. But other practices are equally intriguing: closing the shower curtain to it's fully extended position after use (my mom and I can't be the only people who believe this is an essential rule of human etiquette!), taking every opportunity to scramble up carpeted stairs on hands and knees, forcing the neighborhood parents to sign away our liability for their kids when jumping on our trampoline, sorting coupons in alphabetical order in the car before entering the grocery store. It's a real wake up call - a sign of growing up - when you realize that there are other ways to do things.

But still, about the S'mores - come on.

Reset

Breakfast while camping: partially burnt sesame bagel with lukewarm veggie cream cheese

What is it about sleeping on the ground and zoning out around a campfire for hours that makes camping such a relaxing experience?

I'm some version of a hippie, but living in Boulder County, CO, I can safely say that, by comparison, I'm in the lower 5th percentile as far as true hippies go. Still, though, there is something so calming about being in nature, where it's silent and starry and simple, that's just like hitting the reset button on the alarm clock of my life. I never feel so far away from traffic and schedules and tv and stress as when I am camping - no matter where or with whom.

Of course there is a flip side: this utter relaxation is sandwiched by stress and mayhem. In anticipation of the camping zen, I am always stressed in my preparations. And, the moment I leave the dirt road, the stress seeps back in again.

It takes a balanced soul to carry that calm through to everyday life. I aim to try, but I know that half burnt bagel wouldn't taste nearly as good at my dining room table.