I have been struggling lately with whether I should take on some commitments, given I am already feeling like I am having trouble keeping up. I had a long talk with Nerdguy, who loves it when I bring him in to help me make decisions...even though he is a computer engineer, he has a brain wired for business and decision-making. He sits on three different Boards right now, outside of work, and he is one of those people who does his work with passion. Not for resume padding or connections, but because he truly loves it and shines when he can make a difference. So it was interesting listening to him help me talk through my decisions...he had decision trees and objective-meeting criteria. The whole 9 yards. He was in his glory that his stubborn wife was seeking advice.
One of the decisions was that we would host Thanksgiving dinner for any of our family that are able to make it. I cook a great turkey dinner, using my mother's recipes, but I'm not a natural cook, and it doesn't come easily at all. I don't entertain easily, and the thought of cooking for that many people makes me feel light-headed. And that's even before considering the dynamics of having both of my parents, who are separated, under one roof. Add to that the already busy weekend that we will be having, and that I want to go to church again on Sunday, and I was nervous about pulling it off. But we decided that it is the right thing for us to do.
This morning my oven exploded.
I was making the lunches like I do every morning, with the lunch bags sitting on the stove-top. This is how I will know if my dad reads my blog. He won't be able to resist commenting on this part. He is a retired firefighter, who endlessly lectured me about never putting anything on top of the stove. I listened to him. I even lectured my university housemates, which is what all the cool kids do right? I was like the Dwight Schrute of our house. But then I had 3 kids. And no counter space. The closest thing we have to an island is the mountain of unfolded laundry that makes its home on my bedroom floor.
Grace came up to talk to me while I was finishing up the lunches, when this big bright flash came out of the front, right corner of the stove top, along with a loud pop. Grace headed for the hills, while I stood there bewildered, wondering how I could possibly be such a bad cook that I could set the oven on fire without even cooking.
Thank goodness Grace was okay. And the lunches were okay. Because packing them the first time is enough of a pain in the ass. I wasn't packing new ones. I would have had to put a spin on it..."Look girls, it's a new flavour of pudding cup...Hickory!"
I still don't know what happened, other than that the clock on the stove turned off at the same time, so something shorted out I guess. Nerdguy turned off the circuit breaker, while I tried not to act too giddy about not being able to cook.
So here's the take-away lesson on all of this: We plan. God blows shit up. Related: Explosions trump decision trees.