Full Moon Philosophy

The Full Moon and I have been on pretty friendly terms every since my junior high science fair. Out of ideas and with a three day weekend until my science poster was due, I stayed up late to hang out with Johnny Carson. His final guest of the evening was a junk, er I mean pop, scientist who wrote a book on the moon, tides, and human behavior. The gist of his argument was that a human body was 75% water, therefore the gravitational pull of the full moon influenced human behavior. Ancient lore, surely, but this guy attempted to use "modern" scientific methods to prove Lunacy Theory.

I thought about Carson's guest the rest of the weekend. Kids are easily swayed when it comes to the mystical. And this guy sounded like a real scientist. Sunday night I set to work on my Science Fair poster. I cut the silhouette of a human body from blue construction paper and with a darker blue marker shaded 75% of the body (Blue represented water. Oh such ingenious use of color as symbolic!). I glued the body along the right margin of the poster, like a game show model presenting my hypothesis. I typed my clever proposal, using caps and triple typing over words and whole sentences that needed emphasis. Those pages were affixed to the center of the poster. On the left margin I created a colorful graph demonstrating variances in human behavior at different lunar intervals.

My poster received a second place ribbon. I was relieved that I didn't have to present at state, where academics from the University might try to tear the fragile theory apart. My poster received especially high marks on creativity, not necessarily an attribute that should be applied to scientific endeavours.

That project always comes to mind when the moon is full and I allow the mystical, completely false, fantasy overtake me. She's always been good luck for me. Until this week.

Friday afternoon two friends came over to can jalapeno jelly. We set to work at our regular stations, and quickly put up several batches of pretty jam jars. Three burners on my elderly stove were set to high and the contents of each massive processing pot rattled and heaved, bubbling steam so heavy that we opened windows and sliding doors even though outside temps were below 60 degrees. As my favorite stock pot heated jelly to boil, we heard a THUD THUNK! Sparks and flames and exploding sugar flew across the kitchen. L rushed to the controls and turned everything off. We moved the jelly from the burner and melted sugar flowed out of the bottom where a hole had burned into my life-time guaranteed pot. I guess the manufacturers didn't plan for the copper-bottomed cookware to come in contact with persnickety range tops and sugar lava.

I was sad not only for the loss of a really nice batch of jelly, but for my beautiful pot, and my old but beloved range. A friend once described the burner controls as similar to those used on the helm of a Star Trek vessel. Indeed they helped guide many adventures in cooking. The burner that blew is melted and warped, like a spiral firecracker. There is about a half inch of the escaped sugar beneath the burners; once a puddle, now a capsaicin sucker shellac. A new stove top is unavoidable.

I want to blame the full moon. Or the month (remember the nail that embedded itself into my favorite pair of shoes?). Or the age of our house and appliances. But from humans to nails to melting stoves, sometimes life is just a spoiled batch of jalapeno jelly. If we are lucky we can salvage a few jars while some anonymous trumpet plays Taps for those lost in battle.