Potato-head Bobby was a friend of mine...

looky-here!  I'm a farmer!

Early this spring, I opened my 'potato-bin' (AKA pot lid drawer) and found THIS staring back at me:

...open three of his eyes in the food stamp line...

Ok, well he wasn't in a glass of water... and he didn't have the drawn-on eyes, nose or mouth... but you get the idea.  Because of his outrageous hairdo and the obvious facial features (and arms!), I named him Bobby and decided to let him flourish on the kitchen counter for as long as he wished (he was way too old for eating, anyways).

After about two months of 'flourishing,' Bobby decided he was destined to move on to bigger and better things... namely, ROTTING on the kitchen counter for as long as he wished.  Poor Bobby.  My affections for him ran deep, but when he started to fill the house with musty, moldy potato reek, I decided he had to get out and make his own way in the world.  Instead of tossing my dear friend unceremoniously into the green bin like so much common organic waste, I planted him in the garden beside the sage bush with his 'hair' sticking out, just to see what would become of him.  All in the name of science, you see...

As the summer waxed and waned, Bobby's hair grew into a viny mass of leaves and flowers, and I could only dream of what was going on underneath the soil that held him captive for the duration of his short life.  I tended Bobby with great care (ok, Matt tended Bobby with great care... I am not much of a gardener...) and took great interest in his day-to-day pursuits, so you can imagine how proud I was when tiny little potato nubs started poking their round little heads around his circumference.  I never imagined I would actually get anything edible from Bobby; it was more of a science project than anything else...

But!  Yesterday was the day.  I simply couldn't wait any longer: it was time to harvest Bobby's progeny.  As I carefully excavated the earth from beneath his yellowing hair, I was amazed to see the size of the crop that Bobby had bestowed upon me for all my love and devotion, perhaps in thanks for saving him from the compost heap:

...the bottom one's for you, Maggie... I know how you love mutant produce... ha ha

POTATOES!!  WOW!

Yes, I do realize that if you plant a potato that has sprouted 'eyes', you are going to eventually get little potatoes; I know how farming works... (well, I have some idea of how farming works, but let's be fair; I did grow up in Hamilton.  We aren't exactly known for being an agricultural mecca.)  However, I certainly didn't expect this!  All these tender, tasty tubers, just for me! A perfect plethora of potatoes!  A beautiful bounty of baby Bobbies! 

I am very grateful to Bobby for awarding me this starchy gift.  So grateful, in fact, that tonight Matt and I will devotedly devour each and every last one of his children after roasting them with olive oil and garlic... or maybe potato salad?  I'm sure Bobby wouldn't mind.  Why else would he have produced so many?  Did he think I was going to lovingly raise ALL of them in the eerie fluorescence of my tiny kitchen?  If so, well... sorry Bobby... must have been a miscommunication somewhere along the line.  Don't you worry though, I'll take real good care of them... mmmm... tubers...