Fat stacks

Its that time of year when the mysterious boxes start showing up at the house.Every couple days another one shows up on the stoop. They are packed with all those envelopes from the full color spreads of many a magazine. I wish it were a little more glamorous than it sounds. Instead of food porn catalogues, if they were regular porn magazines I'd have lots of sexual aid pills( Viagra Rich as they say), If they were Highlights Magazines my dinosaur sticker collection would be mighty , but really if they were out of Boy's Life I would have spent enough to get that Hovercraft.

Instead they are many a seed, all sorts of varieties that I can't wait to try, old standbys some that I'm luke warm too, and a bunch that I swore off and in a December moment of weakness found myself ordering only to regret it upon arrival- Does the world really need Kiwano Jelly melons?(answer,no) and why the mother F did I order 48 types of tomatoes...yes really. That was a scaled back number. I tried to get crazier, but luckily my lumbar spoke up.
The real exciting part is laying them all out, and pretending that they are trading cards, huge stacks of them. Except these do actually come to life and if you play them right they increase their value, but then you have to try and trade them for the green and white cards with the old guys on them. The bad part is that all my friends are hesitant to trade with me. Most of them always want to take their cards and go home. Sometimes if I'm lucky I can trade a German Johnson rookie card or an autographed Cherokee Purple for a tattered George Washington. Once I even finagled a trade for a fat stack of Abraham Lincoln copper Pogs.