Putting Out Fires

Potatoes blow up! Like popcorn, they can literally blow up-All OVER the inside of your oven! Well, I can tell you this only with the seasoned experience that comes with age (and ignorance?). The "recipe" for the perfect baked potatoes says to wash them, prick each side once, and bake *right on the rack* for an hour at 425 degrees. I've made these tons of times (I mean, at least 30 or 40 times!) and I've NeVeR had one blow up. But then, I must have done something wrong to deserve the horrible mess (and the Worse Mess after someone made a french bread pizza after I forgot to clean up the potato bits, and it was black, crunchy, and stinky!). So, this morning I have cleaned up the yuck (yes, I had put aluminum foil under my burner at the bottom, and I change it every now and again, but there was potato on the ToP, and the SiDeS of the oven!). I had to use gloves and paper towels, and bring the crumb-y dried bits to the front. And then. I found out there is a deep recess between the oven and the door that humans can't reach. And it had stuff in it. Ugh. I brought in the vacuum, but it couldn't get down there. I invented a suction device (also known as wrap your fingers around the hose in the crack so as to limit suction to only a tiny area at a time-hard to describe, huh?), and got it pretty clean. Oh, and the fire. When I discovered the grossness the day before, I reached down with my mitt on, and lifted up the *hot* electric burner thing, to reach under it-Ha! Don't try this at home, ladies and gentlemen. It caught on fire! I don't know what I was thinking. "The gloves are my insurance"? "425 degrees and fabric gloves do indeed mix"? Yeah, well I've learned. My potatoes just might be clad in the foil that the recipe says definitely not to use.

So, this other fire I kinda caused. I am all caught up in my new book, and not letting anyone take advantage, and only living up to my own expectations (and not everyone else's-very liberating, btw), and only doing the things that help my family... you get the idea. Well. I have a wonderful friend (I mean, so sweet, helps everyone, cares, has amazing kids-so she's doing her job, supportive, just a great friend), and she is a great delegator (if there is such a word, and it may end in -er, but it seems closer to senator than leader). Well, I had been feeling like I was more a worker than her confidante, and I was all caught up in my Mom book, so I told her. Mind you, against the advice of my mom and husband (I'd already requested advice since I had feelings and didn't know what exactly to say). Now I get it, but I felt like I should say something BeCaUSe she was such a great friend. I didn't want to harbor icky feelings. I should say I've done this once before, and it didn't work out, but my mind was temporarily blocked from that memory. Anyway, it was yucky, and should not have come out of my mouth, but somehow I like fairness (reciprocity?) in a friendship. ...Well, honestly, I like to indulge my friends in the ways I like to indulge them. Dinner, gifts, clothes, monogramming, time together, etc. I can see now that they don't want what I can give, they want what they need at the time. So I end up feeling like I've given tons (by my choice, sometimes), and gotten less in return. So, back to Square One. I still want to be friends with her-she's a great person. I think I just needed her to hear me, like I hear her when she's stressed (or she hears me on other days when I'm stressed). It's just hard when it's about yourself, and I get that.

In my Mom book, they say to stop saying that you feel guilty all the time, about going to the gym, reading a book, sitting to watch five minutes of tv, going the the doctor (alone!). But then afterwards, do you REGRET it? If you say no, then No Guilt. So, do I regret saying what I did?

I regret not praying beforehand for the right words. Matthew 18:15 tells us to tell the person, so I was more focused on that liberating bit of scripture than my Psalm 19:14 'Let my words be acceptable to you'. So, yes some guilt. And a fire still burning. Let me get my oven mitts, but let it cool before I lift it up to clean.