Plants, tamales, psychotic old women.

Um, I do not even know where to start.

Firstly, I went to the Master Gardener's Garden Market business and WHOA.

Secondly, I tested, amended, irrigated, staked and planted the entire vegetable garden.

Thirdly, the chili peppers have germinated.

Fourthly, I saw a woman riding a bike while wearing a huge sun hat WITH A HELMET ON TOP.

OK, I guess I know where to start...

Dude.

For those of you non-Bay Area folks, let me enlighten you briefly on the phenomenon known as Sun Fearful Asian Women. And this isn't me making up ways to offend a new slice of society - oh no - this is fact: Asian woman, particularly those of a certain generation, live in constant fear of the sun coming into contact with their skin.

Regardless of the opacity of their sunscreen (see: Zinc Oxide), UV ratings of their windshields or thickness of their clothing's weave, they are never satisfied - never have enough buffer between their fair skin and the sun's rays.

And, hey, with all the nonsense about skin cancer afoot, who can blame them? Until you come to the Bay Area, that is. Here...Sun Fearfulness is taken to a whole new extreme. Particularly a suburb of my fair San Jose, where tiny Asian women are most often found beneath a giant green visor, gardening gloves and an umbrella WHILE DRIVING.

If you think I'm kidding right now, please understand that the photo above is not a rarity - it's simply the first time I've been able to get a photo of it in action. The only thing bizarre about it, really, is the fact that she's not holding an umbrella over her head while pedaling. Though please note that she is wearing long sleeves and gloves while pedaling about doubly hatted. The fact that she's outside with her face to the wind is practically shocking in and of itself.

Anyway, I've gotten carried away. You get it. All kinds of crazy people live here.

Hey! There's some!

Dudes. The Master Gardener's Spring Market is...in a word...a fucking scene. Which, yes, two words, but you get my meaning.

My friend and I showed up around 8:50 for a 9am opening. There were approximately one billion people in line already. None of them would make eye contact, most of them were cutting in line and some of the women were sharpening their elbows. It was a bit tense.

Because we were on line for Rolling Stones tickets? Because there were only 10 flu shots left? Because there were only 5 gallons of gas left for all of the South Bay?

No, because some people had grown some plants from seed and had them for sale for $3. Oh, and you could buy tomato cages for, like, I don't even know because I didn't buy any or you could wander around the vendor booths where no one takes a credit card and old ladies are knifing each other for the last 1/2 gallon gladiola.

I'm telling you - it was retarded.

Now, that's not to say that I didn't buy anything or that I didn't enjoy myself - hell! I got to hang out with a good friend of mine outside the confines of work, had an awesome homemade tamale, found my Golden Greek pepper plant AND had a blogger blind date (Hi IMQTPI! Your final haul was impressive!) in less than 45 minutes, but y'all - what the hell.

Are we, as gardeners of the world, a bunch of god damned animals? Must you run about like a mad person shoving others out of the way for a Brandywine tomato plant while trampling children, dogs and the flip-flop footed with your rollie cart full of Starbucks cups?

Come now. Be reasonable. We live in the 10th largest city in the country. We have approximately one fantastic family run nursery for every fifth person. If all else fails THE INTERNET IS LIKE RIGHT THERE. What kind of sense does it make to shove someone to the ground in order to get at a flat of parsley plants when you can grow that shit from seed in, like, a minute and a half for $.59?

That's all I'll say about the lunacy of this event. I'll sum up now.

This was right before my foot was crushed by a Radio Flyer wagon. Not cool, folks. Not cool.

I went. I bought three plants, only two of which I actually needed.

Cherry tomato? Since when?

I met a lovely fellow blogger.
My friend got the perfect amount of plants for her garden.

She had to get *just one more* in order to properly fill the box. Otherwise - not right.

I ate a very good homemade tamale. I stole condiments (PUT TAMALE CONDIMENTS BY THE TAMALES AND HOT DOG ONES BY THE HOT DOGS IS ALL I'M SAYING SNARKY WOMAN.). I realized that Hey, if all these psychos are here, I bet *my* nursery is empty so let's blow this joint and I'll go get my tomatoes over there since THEY COST THE SAME ANYWAY and I left.

It was an hour and a half and it probably took a year off my life. Next year, I will note the date of this event and I will spend it at my nursery, where it's blissfully peaceful and quiet and fully stocked with all kinds of great vegetable seedlings and no murderous old gardener women.

Plus, what if the Sun-Hat-and-Helmet lady bikes by again? SCORE! You're not getting that at the MG SGM. Oh noooooooo.

So yeah. That takes care of Firstly and Fourthly, so I'll get into Secondly and maybe Thirdly tomorrow.

For now, I'll rest and dress my trowel wounds (REALLY PEOPLE - stabbing? That's so B-movie slasher. You're better than this).