Potatoes

This is why I love sweet potato vines! (Thanks, Dad, for turning me on to them.) The picture on the left is from May 20 and the one on the right is from July 20. Nice. Last year I brought that pot inside for the winter. The spike survived nicely but some little black kitten wouldn't stop digging in the dirt and disturbing the sweet potato vines so I had to throw them out. She just turned 1 year old last week and has lost some of those kitten tendencies. And I covered the top of the soil with stones to further deter her. So I'll give it another shot at the end of summer and bring it inside again.

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May I just say that I make some of the finest fried chicken in all the land? And I have Mom to thank for that. Salt, pepper and flour - and fry it up. I don't make it very often but every time I do we wonder why I don't do it more often and/or make more of it. That was dinner tonight, along with mashed potatoes. I forgot, as I nearly always do, to make gravy. That's mostly because I don't like gravy all that much. (I know, I know. My family will just about drum me out of the clan for that remark.) Steve and Simon love gravy and I'm just talking about brown gravy made with that powder mix and water. It's so fast to make that even though I forget until the very end, I usually do make it. Not tonight. Just butter, milk, onion salt, black pepper and my beloved chives. It was delicious, even Steve said so and he's Mr. Gravy. Now these don't compare to my dad's mashed potatoes, which he used to make by the 55 gallon drum when he knew Simon was coming for dinner. So not only were they plentiful but he beat them with the mixer for about 36 hours, I swear. Me? Beat them with the electric mixer, skins and all, until most of the lumps are reasonably small. Simon used to complain, "These are good, Mom, but not like Grampa's. No offense."

None taken.