A belated thanks, Fork 'n' Monkey (together with an extended digression on national anthems)

Something amazing happened last May. I know; that’s two seasons back, ancient history by gardening standards, an earlier era in the blogging world. But that’s when it happened: that’s when the Manic won the one of the awards in the second annual Fork ‘n’ Monkey Awards. Attention must be paid, however belatedly, and thanks rendered, both to the Garden Monkey and James A-S for sponsoring the second F ‘n’ M awards, and to everyone who voted for the Manic as best North American blog. Being nominated is an honor; winning still has me blinking in disbelief. Wow.

(And then I promptly shut down operations; y’all must have been rethinking those votes!)

Contest Judges Held Hostage to Herman’s Hermits

 
Robins eating juniper berries. If you click on the picture, you'll be able to see the berry in the bottom bird's beak. Notice all that snow on the roof behind the upper bird.

There was supposed to be a post about contest rules yesterday, but there wasn’t. Such is life.

It was tax day. And there was all this snow, a foot of it since Tuesday. Also birds. It was necessary, therefore, to take photographs. And to go skiing.

(Actually, the judges were taken hostage by a crew of irate gardening fanatics wielding sharpened hoes, heavy hoses, and the Herman’s Hermits’ complete playlist. They have commandeered my study, locked the judges inside, and are demanding that the rules be expanded to allow a wider range of categories.

The cries of outrage and pain, audible even over “I’m ‘Enery the Eighth, I am,” have ceased, so I assume that progress is being made and that the finished rules will be slipped under the door shortly. I hope so, because I am getting very tired of “Mrs. Brown, You’ve Got a Lovely Daughter.”)

In the meantime, I will do what I can with earplugs and a woofer blasting the White Album.

Shake or be shaken: see the big screen

This one's for James Alexander-Sinclair (Blogging from Blackpitts Garden) who was apparently inspired by the automatic compost screeners featured in my "Shake yo' compost screen" post earlier this week. But he wants something "bigger and better," he says. His brain on fire, he is all pumped up to turn his many talents to the question of large-scale screening.

Well, James, in support of your efforts, I decided to share with you these possibilities.

This one's quite cute, and will fit in the back of your pick-up. However, since it has no moving parts, it's not entirely clear how the dirt you dump on top is supposed to make it through the screen (especially a screen at that angle), but I'm sure you'll figure something out: maybe instead of shaking, you can take up jumping. Of course, you can always buy the "Optional Vibrator Package" for a mere $1,400. 

Portable Soil Screener. Portable as in slip it into your back pocket?  The site has a video of it in action. If you have had a very dull day, check it out.

Needed: a little madness. Or, Sock war history revised--get a life, Kate!

Several weeks ago, on a day when it was hard to get motivated for anything, I ended up writing a new, extensive--nay, the definitive--history of the sock wars. You can see it on the Page listed to the right.

I'm beginning to feel like one of those people who peaks in their last year in highschool--you know, the football star, the homecoming queen--and after that, it's all downhill. Sigh. I'll be telling my grandchildren about those damn socks. Right, and they'll be saying, "Yeah, Grandma, we know; you've only told us about it a thousand times."

Damn it, if something else totally crazy doesn't happen in the bloggin' world soon I am going to run out to my garage "in the au naturel," as the Garden Wise Guy so delicately and hilariously puts it, throw all my gardening tools into the alley, light them on fire, and throw myself on the heap, shrieking.

Heavens. I had no idea I was that pent up.

From "dastardly" to "divine"

Who'd a thunk it. A few short months ago, James Alexander-Sinclair said the following  in a comment on this very blog you're reading at this precise moment: "Ah-ha. So this is where the dastardly Kate (may the pigeons poop upon her laundry) hangs out."

Got that folks? "Dastardly." (Excuse me while I wring out my handkerchief; the memory still makes me weep.) If you think I made it up, you can check it out yourself. It was in the comments on the very first post in what shortly became known as the Sock Wars. (As for the remark about the laundry, the pigeons, and the poop, well--the less said, the better.)

Cat-lovers of the world--unite!

If you've managed to escape LAPCPADPOUB (or let's all post cat photos and dire poetry on our blogs) day so far, you lead a charmed life, and James A-S will probably appear at your doorstep shortly, begging to know how you managed it. Inaugurated by Happy Mouffetard of The Inelegant Gardener (What is a "mouffetard," anyway? I must ask her), the contest was inspired by James' incautious suggestion that some gardening blogs suffered from a surfeit of cats. Foolish man.

This is our three-legged marauder in the lettuce patch in September.

The result? This contest, for which James had to serve as judge and for which he had to provide the prizes--copies of his own elegant little gardening book, so recently reviewed here. Well, did he think cat-lovers would take his insults lying down?

Tagged by Victoria, who may remember in future to be careful what she wishes for.

I am so far behind that I have now been tagged TWICE, and where I at first thought this let me off the hook, I now gather that no, it’s not so easy. So here goes for round one, for which I can thank Victoria at Victoria's Backyard. (Thank you, Victoria. I think.)

Here are the rules, and if you don't follow them, someone uproots all your favorite plants and lays them out on your grass to form the words, "Ha, Ha!"

* Link to the person who tagged you.
* Post the rules on the blog.
* Write six random things about yourself.
* Tag six people at the end of your post.
* Let each person know they have been tagged by leaving a comment on their blog.
* Let the tagger know when your entry is up.

Now for my six:

1) I’ve had fifteen surgeries, including three rotator-cuff surgeries (meaning more shoulder surgeries than I've got shoulders), but I’m still digging. Most surgeries were arthritis-related; a couple did result from the injuries people seem to assume I must court. Here in Bozeman, a town full of climbers and skiers, several surgeries is par for the course and there are parties where you have to show your ACL scars to gain admittance. Still, it's true that I have racked up rather an impressive total even for this region. I've also taken a personal vow to haul off and punch the next person who suggests that this is something I am "doing to myself," even if the result is another shoulder surgery.

2) I never graduated from high school. I have a B.A., an M.A., and most of a PhD, (all in English) but no high school graduation diploma. Furthermore, (to deepen the mystery) I didn’t drop out, I don’t have a G.E.D., and I didn’t go to college early. Here’s what happened:

Dueling Bloggers

Well, it's a sad day when what begins as a mutual fan club degenerates into insults, threats, and challenges, but it has happened. I know this will come as a shock, but not only am I a witness, I'm a participant. An innocent one, of course, as the transcript below will prove. As for James of Blackpitts and his blog-- I will spit on his blog, I will. Blackhearted James, they call him, or Blackguard James, and now I know why.

I believe the transcript speaks for itself, but perhaps some background is necessary after all.

The document below was compiled by selecting the messages from the relevent "plots" at Blotanical. (If you don't yet know about Blotanical, get with the program. Or just click on the link.) You can view James' plot, with my messages to him, and my plot, with his to me, if you wish to view the originals. I think you will agree that the transcription is accurate.