If you were unaware that today is National Accept the Fact that You Stink at Stuff Day, it’s because I made it up five minutes ago. I intend to celebrate it every year from now on. Maybe several times a year. It’s really a very joyous occasion.
Bad Pet Photo # 1
NAFYSSD is the day when we all relax, admit our failures, and decide we don’t care. It wasn’t an easy sell for someone like me. I’ve always found being good at something really enjoyable. What’s worse, I’ve always more-or-less expected to be good at stuff. My assumption was, even if I wasn’t good at something to begin with, all I had to do was try hard enough, and I’d get there.
Bad Pet Photo # 2
The problem is, there are simply some things I don’t do well and never will. Skills that seem to be meant for people from a different time zone or maybe a different dimension. Things that make my brain feel like it’s got a short somewhere. Here, for example, are three things I am truly terrible at. No self-pity here. Just the sheer pleasure of realizing it’s okay.
What IS that in front of Winnie's face?
Gardening. I spent a lifetime moving around and, when I was in a place for longer than a year, I was usually living in a dorm or a monastery or something. All those years, I dreamed of having a garden. I’d grow a vast array of aromatic herbs! And roses of all variety! And tulips! And decorative lettuces! I would tend my plants like a mother hen with her brood, and my yard would make people stop on their daily walks simply to take in its beauty.
Yes, there is a cat in this photo
Then I bought a house. And I discovered the dirty truth about gardening: It’s dirty. When you garden, you have to work in the soil. You get sweaty. You get bug-bitten. You get sunburned. I hated it. And, yet, I was determined not just to do it, but to do it well. So I labored long, hard, difficult hours planting and mulching and watering and weeding, and ended up with a few pathetic blooms interspersed among a lot of gigantic weeds. Nope, gardening is not my forte. And, thanks to NAFYSSD, that’s all right.
Pixie, AKA "Demon Eyes"
Playing any sport that involves hitting a ball with a pole-like apparatus. Tennis. Softball. Racketball. Squash. There’s something about swinging a stick at a speedily moving sphere that doesn’t work for me. As a girl, I tried desperately to become a good—even halfway decent—softball player. As a teenager, I took tennis lessons four summers in a row. Yet, I never moved beyond hopeless at either sport. The day I cracked my shin with my tennis racket so hard it was purple for a month was the day I decided to turn my racket into a wall hanging.
Photography. My friend Janice creates stunning pictures with her camera. My buddy Eleanor posts adorable snapshots of her pets and incorporates them into her blog on beading. But when I’ve tried to take what I hoped would be darling, amusing, and utterly charming pictures of my beautiful cats, the results are . . . well, you can see for yourself.
Portrait of a Cat Ear
So, what are you truly terrible at? Celebrate it here! And Happy NAFYSS Day!
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Causes Jill Jepson Supports
Humane Society of the United States, Defenders of Wildlife, Interational Society for the Protection of Burros and Mustangs, National Wildlife Federation,...