Maple syrup and butter

I HAVE lived on two different continents, Israel on one of them, and have moved there on my own, building a life there throughout a very tumultuous security period. This, plus lots of other decisions I have made, despite on some level being a creature of habit and not one to seek change, made me always kind of think of myself as somewhat of a take-a-leap kind of person. Have faith it will somehow all turn out OK in the end. You know, the proverbial net catching you and everything falling into place. Sometimes I was terrified while “leaping,” so to speak, but many times I tried not to let that fear hold me back.

By the way, this is all one big metaphor, because when it comes to any physical adventures of pushing the limits and jumping  — all those parachuting and bungee adventures  —  no one is more chicken than I!

But boy, have I been wrong. I just found out I am one boring creature of hum drum habit after all.

So much for my smug waffle outing gatherings. You see, there was a time when two friends of mine and I had a standing waffle date. On a regular basis, we would meet at the dimly lit and striped wallpapered walls (and Archie comics plastered walls) of the waffle bar on Rechov Aza (Gaza St.) in Jerusalem.

After a few such evenings, as we sat on the tall stools, one of my friends and I noticed how our third friend, upon looking over the menu for all the different varieties of waffles and toppings, would invariably turn to the waiter or waitress and very thoughtfully say, “Um, I’ll have the maple syrup and butter.”

As time went on once my friend and I made note of this. Whenever our third friend predictably paused and then put her order through, “maple syrup and butter, please,” we’d make eyes and smile conspiratorially. Why, of course, we knew what the inevitable order would be.

On the other hand, we thought of ourselves as more adventurous, trying different fun toppings each time (until, in the interest of full disclosure, I did settle on my favorite, and did indeed begin ordering the same topping each time as well).

And to be fair, my friend and I grew to appreciate the regular, standing, stable order of our friend. All felt right with the world as long as she was still ordering maple syrup and butter.

It just humored us how she would earnestly go through the time-consuming charade of looking over the menu each time, sometimes even peppering the waiter or waitress with some questions about the different topping options, before smiling, settling on, and sticking to, her regular order.

WELL. It looks like I have turned out to be maple syrup and butter, after all. I love cooking and enjoy experimenting with different recipes, but at the end of the day my favorite is to re-create all those good old comfort foods.

I can watch the same favorite movie over and over again. As I enjoy re-reading a good old favorite, dog eared and well worn book.

Except for Sundays, when I’ll take the time to cook up something different and enjoy the languishing morning of The New York Times, reading and coffee drinking, I eat the exact same breakfast every single morning without batting an eye. I drink from the exact same mug every single morning. And will even sit in the exact same spot while doing it. Plus, the rest of the sequence of my morning routine is always in the same order each day. (By the way, my winding down before-sleep, reading routine mirrors my morning schedule).

I never really thought about it before. Until a friend of mine just pointed it out to me.

Here I was perceiving myself as not the most rigid or structured person on the planet (understatement!), laid back and flexible, as someone who I considered to be somewhat open to new experiences, diverse, with a sense of surprise, adventure and curiosity about life. Just in time to have the rug pulled from under me.

I have been rudely awakened from my reverie to learn the unvarnished truth: I am boring.

Granted, I was never one of those people always looking to switch things up, but I was never one of those who becomes cranky and grumpy at small changes and adjustments in routines, either, so I just hadn’t noticed.

I suppose when it comes down to it, I am one of those who likes slipping into her good well worn comfortable shoes.

I guess it is time to go out to dinner and begin with ordering something exotic and new. Like waffles with maple syrup and butter (her standing order, not mine!)

Copyright © 2011 by the Intermountain Jewish News