My mother is a romance author. For reals. After a recent trip to the supermarket, she bought, snapped and sent me this photo you see at left.
I’m sure you’ll agree that this spud is super. There is nothing dumb about it. So why is it here? Because I just learned she hasn’t eaten it yet because she’s waiting to share this special tater with someone she loves.
Am I calling my own mother stupid? No.
I’m implying it.
Private to my mother: Bake the sucker already!