Prize Tomato Plant

A few years ago, there was quite a contest between my Mom, my friend Susan and myself as to who could grow the strongest and most "productive" tomato plant.
One Sunday afternoon we all went out and bought our little tomato-ettes and planted them in three separate pots. For those of you who know me, even just a little, you realize that I am allergic to garndening. Look, I can't even spell it...

My hand starts to shake with the thought of getting dirt under my nails. Now I know that one can wear "gardening" gloves (whew, I spelled it correctly that time) but I don't like the feel of that material.

What the heck, this was a competition and I'm ALWAYS up for that!
So we all did our thing and Dad took pictures of us acting like the Martha Stewarts of tomato planters. See? I cannot even think of ONE person who is well-known for their gardening expertise. Pretty sad, eh?

The plants were all side by side on Mom's deck and Dad was responsible for watering my plant. He was given strict instructions NOT to sing to it.

Every Sunday if we weren't in town for the measurement of the week to see whose plant was thriving the best, we would have a telephone conference call.

As the weeks passed, Susan and I were both informed that tomatoes were at full bloom and it was time to name the winner of this hot-housely contested match.

We arrived with confident expectations and Dad ceremoniously marched us all out to the deck with our promise to close our eyes until he revealed the winner.

As he said, "Open your eyes", I gasped the three plants. There was Mom's in the middle and at first glance, it LOOKED to be the exact same size as both of ours...but it had at LEAST 29 ruby red ripe tomatoes adorning it like a tired Christmas Tree that was about to fall over from all the ornaments.

I quickly ascertained that Susan and my plants both had maybe 6 tomatoes in varying degrees of greeness and ripeness.

I was stunned at the depth of this defeat. How could it be? What plant food did she use? Maybe she resurrected the Jolly Green Giant?

Then I glanced at my Dad's twinkling eyes and slow grin...and Mom's sheepishly guilty look.

As I looked closer at Mom's Tomatoes on steroids, I noticed that ....
Yup...these were store-bought tomatoes that Dad had somehow rigged to look like they were the real thing.

I can't look at a tomato to this day without thinking of that moment.

Good one, Pop.