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Money, Magic and Marriage
Oct. 7th, 2013 10:47 amI walked past an inspirational poster this morning:
You Don’t Need to Know How to Do It. You Just Need to Start.
Is that really a good thing to tell enthusiastic young doctors? You don't need to know how to do brain surgery! Just open it up and have a go.
I bought a new broom this weekend. I know, my thrilling life. My old one was ancient. It was made of twigs it was so old. So I splashed out on a new one and I don't like it. It's a bit too... enthusiastic. I give one little push on the broom and the dirt goes skittering to the other side of the room. It took me ages to get it all into one little pile. So that will be good exercise, if nothing else.
Also this weekend, I went to the local art society's annual show. They have a member who is two letters away from being my namesake. Same first name, surname starts the same but has a different ending. I'd forgotten about her until I saw her entry. Last time I went she'd painted a fantasy picture of a dominatrix on a carousel horse, or some such. This time she painted a pair of doves. Much less exciting.
And I finally got round to transplanting a yucca that had grown too big for its pot. It's been too top-heavy for ages; a slight breeze knocks it over, and we've had more than a slight breeze the last couple of weeks. So I decided it was time to take it out of the pot. My first thought was for it to swap pots with the bay tree, which is in a tub that is too big for it. Except I couldn't get the yucca out without breaking its pot, so I left the bay tree where it was and decided to put the yucca in the ground. So I dug a hole, dragged the yucca over to it and set to work loosening the ball of roots.
Then I realised that the roots had grown through the circle of mesh that had been on the bottom of the pot. I couldn't pull it out, so I found my little axe and started hacking away at it to no great effect. That drew the attention of Brian Next Door, who is a professional gardener. He said, 'Hang on, I know what to do,' and disappeared. He came round a few minutes later with a large, sharp knife that sliced the roots like butter. I said something about professional garden tools being useful, and he said, 'No, this is Kim's good kitchen knife. Always handy in the garden as long as I wash it before she gets home.'
You Don’t Need to Know How to Do It. You Just Need to Start.
Is that really a good thing to tell enthusiastic young doctors? You don't need to know how to do brain surgery! Just open it up and have a go.
I bought a new broom this weekend. I know, my thrilling life. My old one was ancient. It was made of twigs it was so old. So I splashed out on a new one and I don't like it. It's a bit too... enthusiastic. I give one little push on the broom and the dirt goes skittering to the other side of the room. It took me ages to get it all into one little pile. So that will be good exercise, if nothing else.
Also this weekend, I went to the local art society's annual show. They have a member who is two letters away from being my namesake. Same first name, surname starts the same but has a different ending. I'd forgotten about her until I saw her entry. Last time I went she'd painted a fantasy picture of a dominatrix on a carousel horse, or some such. This time she painted a pair of doves. Much less exciting.
And I finally got round to transplanting a yucca that had grown too big for its pot. It's been too top-heavy for ages; a slight breeze knocks it over, and we've had more than a slight breeze the last couple of weeks. So I decided it was time to take it out of the pot. My first thought was for it to swap pots with the bay tree, which is in a tub that is too big for it. Except I couldn't get the yucca out without breaking its pot, so I left the bay tree where it was and decided to put the yucca in the ground. So I dug a hole, dragged the yucca over to it and set to work loosening the ball of roots.
Then I realised that the roots had grown through the circle of mesh that had been on the bottom of the pot. I couldn't pull it out, so I found my little axe and started hacking away at it to no great effect. That drew the attention of Brian Next Door, who is a professional gardener. He said, 'Hang on, I know what to do,' and disappeared. He came round a few minutes later with a large, sharp knife that sliced the roots like butter. I said something about professional garden tools being useful, and he said, 'No, this is Kim's good kitchen knife. Always handy in the garden as long as I wash it before she gets home.'