The Tomato Story

The mother-in-law has planted a garden every year. In it, she has always grown tomatoes.

Like strawberries, she is allergic to tomatoes. But she grows them anyway to share them with everyone... For the last eight summers, "everyone" has been US.
(And for the life of me I could NOT convince the husband that we do not HAVE to plant tomatoes and we do not WANT to plant tomatoes because she will always have way too many 'maters and end up piling the whole butt-load of them on us. *sigh* But what do I know?)

Anyway, a summer or two ago, the mother-in-law's tomatoes were growing nicely and she told the husband that one tomato in particular was ready to be picked.
For one reason or another (most likely a strange work schedule), the husband didn't get around to picking it... which, by the way, the mother-in-law could've done easily herself and handed it to any one of us. It's not like it was hanging too high or too far into the plant to reach. It was hanging right where you could see it.
And yes, *I* could have picked it, too, but it wasn't my tomato plant and she didn't ask me to pick it. I know when to keep my paws off of stuff. (which reminds me, I'll have to tell you about when she was nosing around our garden one day...)
Anyway, before the husband had a chance to get to this tomato, some furry creature ate it right there on the vine.

I heard about it that evening after work.
"Look at this!" she pointed out to me. "He didn't pick it, and now LOOK!"
I didn't say anything, but I was thinking: Big hairy deal. There's going to be fifty billion more before the end of the month anyway.

Later, I was puttering aroung the yard while the kids played.
"Come over here," she called to one of the children. "I wanna show you something."
That half-eaten tomato was still hanging there!
And she proceeded to tell my child how irresponsible the husband was for letting this one friggin' tomato get ruined.
I was livid! I was about to give her what for when the child shrugged his shoulders in a "so what?" kind of fashion and walked away.

That made ~her~ more angry than me, so I called it good and went about my business.

But THEN!
The next day, as the whole family (MIL included) piled into the family van, she starts in AGAIN! about the damned tomato!
First, she ragged on the husband about it. Again.
And as I climbed into the car, she turned to me and said, "As I was just telling your husband..."

"I know," I cut her off coldly. "I've already HEARD the story three times now."

"Okay then." And she turned away from me and didn't talk to me the rest of the drive.

Nope. I don't miss her or her flipping tomatoes at all this year.