I don’t like to do things that I don’t already know how to do.

Part of the reason, of course, is a fear of looking ridiculous trying to do something I’m not good at. (Particularly if I’m trying to do it in front of a bunch of teens who hate me because I’m not good at it, but that’s another story.)

Part of it, though – and this is something I’ve just recently realized – is a feeling that that thing I don’t know how to do, but that other people do? Is something that other people do.

“I’d like to knit, but I don’t know how. That’s something that other people do.”

“I’d like to dance, but I don’t know how. That’s something that other people do.”

“I’d like to speak French, but I don’t know how. That’s something that other people do.”

(Not that I didn’t know I could learn to do these things. I did take French in high school, and I’ve spent nearly six years learning to bellydance. But in both those cases, I didn’t start learning until I found someone who already knew how to do this to teach me. And then I still had to get over the emotional hurdle of letting someone who did know what they were doing see me doing it badly – which is part of the reason I set out to teach myself to knit.)

Gardening is one of those things I’ve always wanted to do, but I grew up in a place where almost nothing would grow, and from there I moved into a series of apartments (and killed a fair number of houseplants), and somewhere along the line, gardening became something that other people do.

This weekend, though, I finally got tired of saying that I’d like to start working on the flowerbeds in front and planning the gardens in back. I spent two and a half hours yesterday tearing out a gardenia that NovySan’s allergic to (and really, Chia? Did you need to leave a bush that makes your husband sneeze right outside your bedroom window for seven or eight years just because it came with the house?), pulling out grass that’s invaded the rosebed, and trimming the jasmine around the front of the house.

I tacked another couple of hours on today, with more weed pulling and trimming, and I even managed to transplant a couple of irises that have multiplied since they were planted and plant garlic around the roses, which is supposed to help them resist mites.

NovySan, meanwhile, took down more than half of the giant prickly pear that’s shadowed the side of the house and menaced the neighbors for years, and discovered that the thick mat of grass growing around it was rooted more or less on itself. We’ve always assumed that walkway was dirt, but it’s not. It’s concrete, and cobblestone, covered with so much quackgrass that other plants had taken up residence and were flourishing, quite happily, without any dirt at all.

The piles of displaced plant matter are mighty indeed. But we’re getting a handle on it.

And gardening is no longer something that other people do.

Tags: Bellydance, Gardening, Knitting, Love, Our Home, Things I've Learned About Myself

A few months ago, I admitted to NovySan that I’d never seen Psycho.

We watched it not long after.

Now it’s an assignment for his Film History class at Santa Monica College, so we’re watching it again.

We meant to do it earlier this week, but that didn’t happen, so we’re watching it tonight.

Coincidentally, Ferrett (one of my VP peeps) just watched it, as well, so I’ll leave you with his thoughts on Anthony Perkins as Norman Bates.

Tags: Former Gaps in My Cultural Education, Love, Psycho

…with occasional pictures.

1) Roy, the world’s nicest Parking Elf and Smog Shop Proprietor. He not only assured us he’d be watching the car all day – he gave NovySan his phone number, so he could keep the lot open late, if we were delayed.

2) A tiny blonde girl in a tiny pink Jeannie costume, with an even tinier pink gun. I’m not sure when Jeannie started packing heat, but she sure looked like she knew how to use it.

3) Advertisements for The Room. (I haven’t seen The Room, but The Ferrett has. Seen it, survived it, and reviewed it.)

4) Jesus battling Superman.

5) Stan Lee – just for a moment, before a slavering mob backed him up against a door and flashed bright lights in his eyes. (He’s very crafty, though. He escaped, possibly by teleporting himself through a locked door.)

6) A couple of embarrassing typos. (“Autors Inculding,” Tor? Really? You’re sure?)

7) A teenaged vampire with Yoda on his back.

8 ) A Dalek about to slip past the velvet rope. (And who thought that was a good idea? Dropping the rope like that? You really want the Dalek inside the club?)

9) And, of course, America’s Finest Sergeant.

And with whom did I see these things? With Gregor Mortis, who was kind enough to drive, and with NovySan, who wore neither the t-shirt featured below, nor the jacket (which he says should have been buried with Frank).

Tags: Comic Con, Geek, Love, More of a Picture-Story Than a Story With Pictures, Things What Was Fun