Life is usually 90% bumbling along, 10% important decisions. In normal times, most things just don’t matter that much. We can just bumble through, choosing whichever thing makes us happy or feels good in the moment or seems better than the alternative. Breakfast? Bumble along. What to wear? Bumble along. What to watch or listen to? Shower morning or night? Sweep the floor or blow it off? Bumble along.

But right now it’s flipped. Ninety percent of the time, any choice I make, no matter how mundane, has weight. Consequence. I have to be careful, think things through.

We’re getting low on milk. Should I go to the store and get more? If I don’t buy it now, I’ll have to go later, and maybe things will be even worse then. Or maybe not, maybe better to wait. If I do go now, should I just get the milk, or should I get the other things while I’m there, so I won’t have to go back as soon? If I don’t go, then I won’t have what I need to cook with, to use up my back stock of other things. That was the whole point of stocking up, wasn’t it? But if I do go, I’m exposing myself. How much exposure does it take? What are the actual odds? What if I’m really fast? What if I wear a mask?

These days, we each carry around an amorphous repository of advice, cobbled together from various sources. It’s like a cloud, a liquid accumulation of understanding. Glance at it in any given moment, and it seems like a fairly solid mass. Okay, got it, we think. I know what I’m dealing with. But the next time you look, it’s changed. And as you get closer, as you penetrate, as you seek to understand it better, you realize it’s not even solid. It’s just vapor. It could cast a shadow or cause a storm, but just as likely, it could dissipate.

We’re constantly weighing probabilities, consulting our mental map of the latest science, the new CDC recommendations, the most recent quotes from Dr. Anthony Fauci.

But no matter how hard we try to think things through, choose the best option, there is so much we cannot know right now. Every decision has consequence. And we don’t even know what the consequences are.

I can’t count the number of times in the last month I felt like I should be wearing a mask. I walked grocery store aisles with my naked face feeling vulnerable, exposed. Holding my breath slightly as I passed another shopper. Nothing personal. You’re being silly, I would tell myself. You’ve read all about this, and that’s not how it spreads. But now it turns out, that is how it spreads. As far as we know.

Every decision affects my kids, my husband, my business, my employees, my customers, my community. Myself. I have to choose a course of action. I’m the mom, the boss, the business owner. I’m in charge. Someone has to decide, and that someone is me. That’s my job.

I’m doing the very best I can. But try as I might, I have no idea what I’m doing.

Batch Breakfast: Steel-Cut Oats

I made up a big batch of these last week, and as I write this, it turns out we’ve run out, so time to make more!

Steel-cut oats feel nubby and substantial. They stand up well to making in advance and hanging in the refrigerator for awhile. We make a big batch and then microwave individual portions each day, with a little milk stirred in. I haven’t tried to freeze them, but I think that could work too. You could freeze them in smaller portions, and then reheat one portion at a time. I like to stir in raisins and some sort of crushed nuts to the hot, finished bowl (that’s pecans in the picture).

Here’s the recipe:

(PS - If you’re new around here, welcome! Adventure Kitchen is a local, small-batch maker of original spice blends and prepared foods, and I’m the founder and chief creator. Separately, I send a weekly email with recipes and cooking suggestions. If you’d like to follow along with that, you can sign up on this page. And if you’d like to support my small business, you can buy our spices online. We ship everywhere of course, and we deliver locally for free!)