Okay, They're Forgiven

You may remember awhile ago, in an extensive bitch-session about the state of the garden, a passing mention of the irritating volunteer potatoes that seemed to have taken over one section of the garden.

Or you may have stopped reading before that.  I don't blame you if you did.

ANYWAY.

Yes, the volunteer potatoes appeared to be entirely too zealous and yet not at all fruitful, leading me to denounce them to the world as nothing more than another irritation in a garden full of irritations.

But then yesterday Cubby and I dug some up.  And, well, there were a LOT of potatoes out there.  What I mean is, I dug up three or four of the biggest plants and got many good-sized potatoes for my effort.  Considering my effort consisted solely of digging them and not actually planting them or mulching them or doing any work to make them grow, I was pretty pleased about that.

I ended up filling one of the big soup pots with these volunteers and boiling them all, not with any particular plan in mind, but just with the idea that it's never a bad thing to have a bunch of cooked potatoes in the refrigerator.  And then I sliced some up with a dressing of yogurt, lemon juice, and garlic for dinner.  And they were good.  So those potatoes have redeemed themselves and I would like to publicly apologize to them for my negative attitude.

Incidentally, for those of you wondering what in the Sam Hill a nine-months-pregnant woman is doing digging potatoes . . . well.  I like to eat potatoes.  I wanted them.  And considering I'm due on Sunday, I definitely do not care in the least if I induce labor with some strenuous activity.  In fact, I would be delighted.

Maybe today I should try pulling all the head-high weeds in the rock-hard soil in the actual potato field.  If anything would stimulate labor, it would be that.  Or maybe it would just cripple me.  I guess I'll stick to eating some more of my potatoes and just trust to luck that this kid comes sooner rather than later.