I blew up the potato. I BLEW UP THE POTATO! Everything was going so well. My little assembly line in place. Salad underway. Meat on the grill. Homemade microwaveable peas cooking away. The potato had baked for one hour. All of a sudden, as I was humming a tune over my little salads, KABOOM!

But have no fear, my Mom taught me what I really needed to know! In one flash, I grabbed a spatula, scooped up the potato, threw it into a bowl. Wrapped paper towels around my hands to avoid serious burns, and smished the potato back into an oval shape, folding the torn brown skins back over the top of the potato. Wrapped the whole thing in foil, and placed it on my husband’s plate.

As we sat down to eat, he asked, “Aren’t you going to have any potato?” (We usually share a potato, but if I had tried to split it, it would have collapsed into a million pieces.) I fanned my face delicately with my napkin, and said “Oh gosh, honey, I think I’ll pass this evening. I’ve just been eating too many carbs! You go ahead and enjoy it!”

Mom, you woulda been proud!!