Queing up

This morning, we headed up to the FlorAbundance plant sale, a heavy hitter in the Seattle-area gardening circuit. It's held in a big old former hangar at what was once the Sandpoint Naval station. We arrived shortly before the sale began at 10 a.m., and, as expected, the line to get in stretched around two sides of the large building.

"I think lines are my theme for this weekend," I said to He Who Puts Up With Me.

"Huh?" he responded.

I gave him one of my best "What, are you stupid?" looks. "Tomorrow..." I prompted.

"Oh, yeah, duh."

Duh is right. Tomorrow I will be spending at least 8 hours in line outside Key Arena, all in the interest in getting as close as possible to my boys (U2) when they rock the place tomorrow night. It's random whether we get inside the ellipse-shaped catwalk, but even if I don't, at least I can be certain of a good spot against the rail on the outside of the catwalk.

Excessive behavior? Mais, non! It's been eight years since I've seen Bono, Edge, Adam and Larry live, and then it was from the vantage point of half a football field at Giants Stadium. Damn it, I want to be up close this time! I want to see sweat drip! Hell, I don't care if I even see nose hairs! (Not that they have any, of course.)

Now, excessive behavior was displayed, I'm afraid, at the aforementioned plant sale. "Oh, all we need to get is a few tomato plants, and maybe an artichoke plant if they have them."

Hah! We walked out with enough tomato plants to feed Italy (so many heirloom varieties, each more seductive than the next...sigh), a green and purple artichokes, four lavender plants, and a lemon verbena plant. I don't know who we thought we were kidding. And for the record, he's just as bad a plant-a-holic as I am.