The turnip who ate San Fransisco. And New York.

You may not be aware of it, but my family grows vegetables every year. We plant radishes, peas, tomatoes (yes I'm aware that's a fruit- I'm probably listing tons of fruits, I just don't feel like correcting myself, deal?), spinach, lettuce, broccoli. We also plant those pinkish colored veggies called "turnips". Are you acquainted with them? Good.
Today we found out what happens if you plant a turnip in the spring, and don't harvest it until October.
First, here is our sink, filled to the top with, yes, turnips.


And here, my friends, is the gargantuan turnip that I swear is going to give me nightmares of the worst sort tonight.
(Note: that is my mom. Holding a turnip. Right next to her. (so it's not that distance size thing.). My mom is 5' 9". She is not a short person.)

So, we decided to cut it open. The turnip was very heavy, so that was a good sign.

It was also very hard. Which was also a good sign. It meant that it probably wasn't going to be rotten and filled to the top with ants. (can we hear a collective "ick!"??)
here is the turnip, in all it's turnip-py goodness:
My mom finally managed to cut that baby open:
and final decision: it IS "good", but it is far too bitter to ever eat.
so, there ends the life of the turnip.
....
....
....
or so you think.
*dum dum duuuuuuuuuummmm!!!!*