One Tomato, Two Minds

Three terrible things to waste....

Once upon a time, I stayed and cared for a trio of young ladies, standing in for my friend Maggie. Maggie has a lovely garden, and when it was time for me to head home (shortly before flying away to N Carolina), I liberated a lovely tomato for my personal use. I have no photo of this tomato, unfortunately, so you will just have to take it on faith, the original tomato did exist.

Packed safely away with a few more of my victuals (or so I thought!) the tomato and I headed off for home. Once home, I took everything inside (or so I thought, heh).

The next evening was the last one before starting our vacation. I picked up 2G at the ferry, as she was spending the night at my place before a very early ride to the airport the next day. Ramona was in the front seat, G2 (or was that 2G?) sat in back. As we were taking Ramona to my friend's house, G2 nonchalantly asked "Why is there a tomato in the middle of the back seat?". Dang. It must have rolled out of the victuals bag. "Don't let me forget to bring it in when we get back", says I.

Later that evening, she and I tucked safely in our jammies and all packed up and ready, one of us said "hey, where is that tomato, anyhow?". Sigh. Still in the back seat of the car. As neither one of us felt like getting dressed and heading out to the parking lot (which is located over the creek and through the woods from my apartment, quite literally), we wrote a note and attached it to the front door, where we could not possible overlook it in the morning.

Morning comes. We got up and dressed, and ring! The airport shuttle calls, they are running early. G2 and I gather up our bags and run out the door, right past the note that we could not possible overlook. About halfway through the drive to the airport, I said, "Dang! That tomato is still in the car.". We make a mental note to call my neighbor Karen, when it gets a little later in the morning (it still being O dark thirty in the morning at this point") while we are waiting for our flight. Ah, intentions!

Later that day, somewhere over, possibly Arkansas, I remember that tomato again. As soon as I mention it, G2 and I break into peals of laughter, causing the first of many exercise sessions for my still recovering tummy muscles (ow! ow2!). Can't call Karen, not allowed from plane. Or, email her either, same problem. I got out my pen and wrote TOMATO upon the palm of my hand. Not being content to let that be the only reminder, after all, it was likely that I would wash my hands once or twice, I had G2 take this picture, so that we wouldn't POSSIBLY be able to forget to make the call.

One would think that the mere thought of dealing with that tomater a week and a half later if we didn't get it out of there would be enough to keep it in the forefront of our minds, but as we have already seen....

Later that night, even later, having dealt with the rental car people (successfully, even if it still was too much money if you ask me), we were getting ready for bed in the first of our epic trek through the world of Best Western. We remembered. Tomato. I sent Karen an email. Whew! Remembered!

And, having not heard back from her, called and left a message the next day. Finally did hear from her that, hooray! The tomato in the back seat had been saved from it's vinyl fate, and was, in fact, delicious.

Yeah, us! And a grand new subject was born, sending us into gales of giggles throughout our trip. Thanks, Maggie!

S2