sometimes I forget the salt in my bread and that's okay

When it comes to cooking and baking (and writing and school work and regular work and my calling and....you get the picture), I tend to be too hard on myself. Take today for example. I made some bread because that's what I do on Sunday afternoons, and I had to rush to get it done before I had to be somewhere. As a result, I spaced out and forgot to put salt in the dough.

Naturally, I didn't realize this until much later, after I'd waited for it to rise and admired it for its beauty (yes, I think bread dough is beautiful) and given half a loaf away to some friends. After all of that, I tasted it and realized that it was bland. Very bland. It's amazing what difference three teaspoons of something can make in a recipe that makes two huge loaves of bread.

My first reaction was to be inordinately irritated with myself. How stupid of a mistake was that? I make bread all the time; I clearly know that salt goes in bread and that bread without salt is bland. Duh. What an idiot! I expressed this frustration to a friend, who assured me that I was overreacting and that I am allowed to make mistakes. For a while, I remained prickly and moody about the issue until, an embarrassingly long time later, I realized how ridiculous I was being.

I can't expect to do everything perfectly. I am an imperfect person who does imperfect things in imperfect ways. And whether it's something small and silly like making bread or something of greater consequences, I am going to make mistakes. I am going to screw up. I am going to have moments of that what was I thinking kind of self-reflection.

But that's okay.

I can cut myself some slack.

I can learn something instead of beating myself up over silly mistakes.

It's okay to forget salt in the dough every now and then. It really is.