A preview of one teensy bit of my upcoming crammed-to-the-gills weekend

Oh, there will be followup, believe you me.

It was Big Daddy Kane who said that he was "so full of action/my name should be a verb."  And I, of course, identify with this sentiment.  If I told you all the crap I do, you would wilt in the hot sunlight of your shame.  So I only give you a mere transverse slice (thanks, N. Baker) of my days, for I don't wish to be the cause of your sense of defeat and ultimate resignation from life.  Not me!

Anyway, sorted through the seeds last night that have been perched on the porch since the 1780's.  Seriously, some of these go back to before we even gardened*!  What?  SELL BY 12/31/2007.  Huh?

So, to be added to my list of wee activities for Saturday: get some sort of metal strongbox/filing case for remaining seeds.   Then I can sit up alone on cold winter nights when the wind howls and ice is flung at the windows, sort and resorting the seeds in amazing combinations and taping/gluing seeds to mapped-upon graph paper.  Or some such.

Rah!

* I do know where they came from, just being sort of vague to make things more inherently fascinating