Tators

Phil has a garden out here every year and shares his produce with us. This week he dug up potatoes and spent hours washing them and then lined them up on the porch to dry. They were separated according to kind and lined up according to size. OH MY!! I am a slob and would never work that hard for potatoes. He handed me the very smallest red potato---about the size of my little fingernail---and said it was for Mylah. The next day it started to rain and John chucked them all in boxes--the slob way. It was a shame to destroy such order.