I was preparing dinner one evening earlier this month, and this potato caught my eye.
In fact, the potato’s eye caught my eye. And its eyebrow.
A few nights later, I was again cutting potatoes, and once more, a potato caught my eye. And looked back at me pleadingly.
Tell me you don’t see the face.
“She must be running out of ideas,” you may be thinking. “Surely she can find something to post about beyond potatoes.”
If you think I’m posting about potatoes because I’m tired and out of ideas, you are only partly right. In fact, this was a planned potato post. At least a partially planned potato post. You see, I have a past of presenting particularly peculiar produce. Witness the sad potato of 2015, the jaunty butternut squash of 2012, and the shifty-looking eggplant of 2011. Somehow, I managed to post each of these on November 21st in years past. This year, though, I guess I forgot. In spite of having prepared the potato pictures, the 21st past with nary a vegetable. (Out of curiosity, I checked the dates when I took the potato photos above. Oddly enough, it was on November 8th and November 13th. And while I did not post them on the 21st, I do notice that the sum of 8 and 13 is 21.) (And really, this part is just me rambling on because it’s late.)