I just got an email from my mother, telling me that I had two ripe tomatoes on my tomato plant and that they were the most delicious tomatoes she and my father had eaten in years.

See, in the summer, my mother bought a tomato plant which she designated mine...except I never really did anything with it, but water it when I thought about it. Which wasn't often. We never bother to cut the bitch back, and it got so heavy it couldn't support itself. My mother hacked it up on the weekend, and she counted 67 green tomatoes, plus more that she took into work for a woman who wanted to make green tomato relish and some that she threw out.

The whole thing kind of makes me want to read Fried Green Tomatoes at the Whistle Stop Cafe again. Too bad it's at home. Maybe I'll bring it back after Christmas.