Maybe, like me, you think that, at a certain point in your life, you know yourself pretty well. I am aware of my strengths and my challenges and, if you asked me, I could definitely give you a list of each. Needless to say, the faults and flaws are a longer list, which I suspect is true for many of us.

I know that I am impatient. I know that I have a bit of a hair trigger. I know that my attention span has been, accurately, likened to that of a monarch butterfly. And, of course, there is more but you get the idea. What I didn’t realize, until my husband called it out recently, is how prone I am to become a little (maybe more than a little) focused (maybe obsessed a bit) with specific things. He called that “going down the rabbit hole” and it is not a bad description I guess. And, like the attention deficit being that I am, my interest will be intense and then subside or even disappear.

You can see this in the variety of knitting projects I have in boxes, waiting to be started. I had great enthusiasm for clicking the needles together on winter weekend afternoons. Just about everyone in my life ended up with a scarf or a shawl or an afghan. I read about techniques and needles and all kinds of projects and then, just as quickly as I began, I lost interest. There are many more examples of this, but you get the idea.

Right now, sourdough and I are having a moment. I am not sure why. I missed the sourdough resurgence that took place during COVID. I was busy managing the care of older adults and there was no time in my life for anything else other than work and worry. But, for whatever reason, I have been baking more bread and, while cold ferment dough was fun and easy, the thought of sourdough continued to tease me.

It is too much work, I would tell myself. It has to live on your counter, which is not in keeping with my “don’t put anything on my kitchen counter” mandate. It has to be fed and my life is too busy, I often told others. And yet, here I am.

And me being me, it was not enough to begin with a sourdough starter and some beginner loaves of bread. No, now I am in an unimaginable number of social media groups that focus on sourdough. I read every recipe, scrutinize every photo and evaluate every technique for inclusion in my process. Worse than that, my dear, patient spouse, has to listen to my daily “Wow, listen to this” sourdough tip as well as serve as my official taste tester.

Is this “procrastibaking”? There is definitely an element of that. Is this my competitive nature (never far beneath the surface) that sees this as something I need to master? Not sure. But I do know that I find joy in feeding the people I care about, whether holidays meals or baked goods or bread, which we know is sometimes referred to as the “staff of life.”

I am aware that this focus won’t last forever. I know that the special pans and tools that are now fighting for space in my kitchen cupboards will eventually find their way to either basement storage or a donation bin, but, for now, I am finding joy in the learning and joy in the sharing. Accepting myself for who I am, rabbit holes and all, accepting ourselves for who we are, filling our full hearts.