How many times do I have to hear/think the old line about God never giving you more than you can handle?
In the past week, I’ve had lengthy conversations with two people, and both conversations have led me to sit in my car afterwards and think, “I have no idea how I would handle that. How would I handle that? Could I handle that?”
(I was once able to handle Haydn. I hid from Handel. Five minutes ago those two sentences were VERY funny to me.)
Last night I asked Jeff if he believes that you are never given more than you can handle. He replied, “Anne Frank was given more than she could handle.”
I can handle quite a few things. I can handle cooking meat for my family and I can handle the dry skin on my hands that results from washing them at least fourteen times after handling said meat. What I can’t handle is knowing that whatever I’m cooking won’t be enjoyed by the girls unless it is named Toasted Ravioli or Crazy Bowls or Sloppy Joe or Homemade Pizza Roll. (As a result, I now call EVERYTHING Sloppy Joe. I currently have a pork tenderloin in the oven for tonight’s dinner. When the girls come home from school and ask what’s for dinner, I will say, “Sloppy Joe.” They will cheer and high five one another. Later, when it’s time for them to eat, I will be at the PTO meeting—where I won’t be able to hear their cries of disappointment.) I can handle being the treasurer of PTO and I can handle writing checks and depositing money and keeping track of the checks and the money. What I can’t handle is sitting at a table in front of people every month at the meeting and trying my best to smile, keep my mouth closed, and not fall down. (As a result, I am not “running” for a second term. (I am not running for anything. My life is all about the stroll these days.) Oddly enough, shortly after I announced that I’m going to Jimmy Carter the treasurer position, I was recruited to be on a committee at church. Door. Window. Bonus: I will not be asked to sit at a table in front of people. I will be asked to eat pizza, and I’ve already made it very clear that if anyone tries to sneak a slice of pepperoni onto my lunch, there will be hell to pay. Big crazy table-flipping hell.) I can (normally) handle my freelance stuff along with volunteering at the school and keeping up (mostly) with laundry and playing with the dogs and grocery shopping and (sometimes) wearing eyeliner and baking the occasional chocolate chip banana cake. Ah, but last week I *couldn’t* handle two of my freelance projects and I had to admit that they were beyond my level of experience and I actually cried my eyeliner away about the whole thing and I didn’t do laundry and I made toasted ravioli TWICE just to avoid the whole, “Do I HAVE to eat this?!” gig. (As a result, I’ve eaten way too much of that chocolate chip banana cake. Get this. Last week I hit my “goal” weight at Weight Watchers. I know. This week I’m no longer there. Oh, Chocolate Chip Banana Cake. You were 117 points of hard to handle craziness. The good news? I’ve accepted a new freelance project. Please know that I know how lucky I am.) This paragraph keeps on going and going, doesn’t it?
For Jeff, Bruce Springsteen released his new album today. For me, Andrew Bird released his new album today. For the girls, Big Time Rush released their new EP today. Television off. Music on. The towels are in the washer.