I'll be happy with whatever comes up, really.

Received my Genographic test kit in the mail today. The kit has all sorts of educational stuff I'll read over the weekend, including the bucal swab materials for sampling my mitochondrial DNA(bucal... HAHAHAHA!) . 

The only reason I bothered to mention the kit just now is the invoicing slip gave me a good laugh. The invoice has the usual generic packing slip for exchanges/returns of merchandise which includes a generalized list of coded reasons for returning merchandise, e.g., damaged' and defective, style not as expected, or damaged in transit. But the first listed reason for returning one's gene test kit is.... (drum roll please):

COLOR NOT AS EXPECTED

BWAH HA HA HA HA HA HAAAA!

Most Boring Topic in the Known World

What's the most boring topic in the world; someone else's dreams. However, since this is MY dream, not someone else's, so I know my dream is of great interest (oh shut up).

Haven't had this sort of nuclear holocaust dream since I was a kid; I was staring out the window at the city and saw a humongous bright flash of light, followed by a massive rush of rubble headed my way. I shouted to my brother Juan, cousin Fernandez (where the HELL did thoughts of Fernandez come from???) and niece Doris that a nuclear bomb had gone off. My brother pointed to a large football game going on at a nearby stadium, saying the explosion was only the cheering of the crowds, the dust storm was caused by the excited crowds of football fans cheering and waving home team flags.

Have no idea where the eff that dream came from. It was nice visiting with the relatives though, even if it was only in the dream scape.

The Gulag Garden

The only creatures known to make as much kafuffle as I do following an accomplishment are hens. There are many who claim that I make far more noise than any Leghorn egg layer but I say such people are only envious of my accomplishments (as well as being annoyingly truthful). Recently I decided to renovate the backyard, so I begin to garden in earnest. After all, I am physically capable of doing so - or so I tell myself - and if I do so there ought be a great deal of satisfaction and far less $ spent) if I provide the labor. I've spent hours and hours daydreaming of what I can accomplish in the 'back forty' - taking into consideration that I haven't got a mule.

My first big project is putting in a brick border around the area I enjoy calling 'flower bed' – it's actually a weed bed. A second project is renovating the Hawthorn Island, an crabgrass encased oasis on the backyard lawn that holds my berry bearing, Cedar Waxwing delight - my Hawthorn tree. The Hawthorn island harbors the rampaging, brown shirted, hobnail booted German Iris I’ve fussed about a week ago (see horrid iris HERE). Ugh! The iris bed is a nasty, gnarly mess of crab grass, slugs, snails, iris rhizomes and a million privet seedlings that grow from seed to humongous shrub in a matter of days. I am determined that all the weeds and unwieldy plants in the Hawthorn Island are - to use street lingo - 'going down fothermucker!' (I got that bit wrong, didn't I?). There are many other things in the back forty to be done too, such as removing and replacing numerous garden casualties such as my dearly de-budded blue butterfly bush; may it R.I.C. (rest in compost).

Over the weekend I stunned myself by actually bricking a wee corner of the future flower bed. Later, tiring of stoop labor I then stained and water treated several redwood pots and such (several = 2). See? I told you – if I do the work, this blog is damned well going to showcase every drop of sweat on my brow. Harumph, and same to you buddy.

I am determined to garden so please, don't try and stop me. I must do this for myself.

Please; won't someone, for pity's sake, please stop me?