Come to My Garden...

Sometimes I am overly ambitious when it comes to domestic pursuits.

Shocking, right?

Example: I am not a good cook. I know this. I am painfully aware of the fact that cooking is not my forte. Yet, sometimes I'll see a picture of something in a cook book and think, "Why, I am going to make that completely complicated recipe, and it's going to magically turn out to look exactly like the picture!"

Then, three hours later when I'm covered up to my elbows in some strange ingredient like "kirsch" or "bat bladder extract", my brain finally wakes up and says, "Wuh? Julianna, were you trying to cook again while I was asleep? Remember how you are not a world-class chef?" Oh. Right. So, what am I going to do now with the extra bottle of bat bladder extract I picked up at Costco? Hmmmmm. I guess I can always donate it to a pagan group so they can use it to make some sort of ceremonial potion or curse...whatever pagan groups do. (I'm always trying to give back to the community. I'm just really charitable like that.)

Well, I found out this week that my misplaced ambition also reaches out into another area--gardening.

There's a small "bit of earth" outside my apartment, and my room-mate Taren and I decided it would be fun to plant some flowers in an attempt to make the place a little more cheery. Maybe some flowers would attract some butterflies or hummingbirds...or friends...to our humble abode. You never know.

Anyway, off we went to buy an assortment of flora with which to spruce up the place. Now, did we go for the hearty, sensible plants that have been known to withstand even the most inept wannabe gardeners? Nope. Get those petunias away from me! I want the more exotic stuff! I have faith! I've read the bible! I know that all you need is to plant the seed, water it, and have faith that it will grow! (However, just in case faith wasn't enough, I bought some Miracle Grow.) I decided (foolishly) to try to grow some Gerber daisies.



Aw, pretty!

Well, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but apparently faith doesn't work on Gerber Daisies. In my opinion, Gerbers are the spoiled, whiney, 15-year old rich girls of the flower world. T-Minus 5 days later, they are drooping face down into the earth. It's sad, really, to see such happy-looking flowers just give up so quickly on life. Frankly, I'm offended. Is life in my little garden really THAT terrible? Suck it up, Gerber. I don't like you anymore. You are not invited to any of my social functions from here on out. *Jules folds her arms and pouts in the corner.*

Maybe I should just stick to growing dandelions. You don't ever hear of high-maintenance dandelions with attitude problems. I think we'll get along well.