I have a cookbook I got back in the 70’s called The Spice of Life Cookbook by David Wade. Just about all the recipes include two ingredients: Love and Patience.

Since I love to cook, I never needed to be told to add those ingredients—they put themselves in while I’m in the kitchen. A coworker recently complained that her husband acts like he’s fighting a war whenever he prepares food, so I lent the book to her to show him. Like anything else that hits the nail on the head, it was ignored.

Today a friend shared his yearning to get a situation settled, while I remained struggling with other people’s timetables. Reversing the idea of a cookbook containing words to live by, I thought our lives needed a hint from the joys of cooking. I texted him a pun: “We all need to use more time as an ingredient.”

I never find myself screaming at the yeast to make the bread rise faster, so why not live as well as I cook?

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