OK, so I have 99 tomato plants.

Which is not 100, so I'm calling myself less than totally ridiculous.

Right? The double digitness rather than triple digitness makes it OK?

Yeah, maybe not. BUT - I have a plan for finding homes for all of these lovely ladies.

Lovely ladies, who, by the way have set up shop on the bar and why wouldn't they because I like it a lot myself.

G&Ts used to be had here. Now - only water. A dry bar! How sad.

So, what's the update then?

That I have 99 potted up tomato plants (after some thinning of weaklings and doubling up) living la vida loca in their own individual 4" pots PLUS 13 Lettuce Leaf basil plants (awesome favorite!), 3 Padron Peppers, 2 Banana Peppers, 2 Tomatillos, ZERO (sad) Golden Greek peppers, 12 Parisian Pickling cucumbers and 2 Solly Bieler cucumbers.

It's quite the Hey Whatcha Got Going On Back There set up and I realize that my neighbors and the PG&E guy definitely think that yeah I may be growing tomatoes but what else.

Clearly these are all people who underestimate the near insatiable desire for tomatoes.

An insatiable desire that I'm heavily banking on as I get ready to roll out Phase II of my World Tomato Domination Plan.

OK, actually, no. I just have a super nerdy garden thing that I want your opinions on. Really! Tell me what you think.

See, I'm finding homes for my tomatoes (and those other plants) by either exchanging them for AIDS LifeCycle donations, selling them at our neighborhood garage sale or trading them for goods at our neighborhood produce swap.

That's all fine and good, right? (Just say yes. This isn't the part I need opinions on. Unless you have a good one. In which case, go to it in the comments.)

But then, what of the plants?

They go off to a million (or 20, but that's about the same) different points on the globe (in the Bay Area) and I'm left with just the few plants I put in my own garden and maybe some neighbors who plant theirs and then let me visit them at some point during the season (when I sneak into their backyards unannounced in the dark morning hours).

How sad!

I won't know how the plants do. I won't know what kind of harvests they rake in, how delicious the bounty is or what they do to preserve their harvests. I also won't get to save any of their seeds to grow again for next year.

SAD.

So, because I'm totally certifiable at this point, I've come up with a plan to see if I can't subvert some of those woes and it's called The Finny Farm and it's a new tab that I've added to this blog so that I can in a nice way stalk and keep tabs on my green friends as they go off and make their ways in the world and then *maybe* have a chance at some of those seeds for next year's Wild Indoor Grow Op That Looks Like I'm Growing Weed In My Kitchen Extravaganza.

I'm going to design a plant tag for each of the transplants that goes off to a new home that will have all of the plant's information PLUS a link to that page so that people can dork out on their plants and also maybe stay in touch after the fact (and let me see their tomatoes - PORNY).

Is that the most fucked up thing you've ever heard?

Wait - go look at the page first and see if it sounds crazy.

And - if you're feeling really awesome and good idea have-y - is there anything else you'd want to see if you were to follow a website from a yard sale bought plant tag to the internets with the promise of MORE information and nerdy good garden times?

You can also just tell me I've lost my walnut and should be committed. I won't be offended. Probably.