So I'm a "9 to 5" er, and just got home from work about half an hour ago. My poor husband has been put on the nightshift at his work, 6:00 p.m. to 6:00 a.m., he is a supervisor and was just recruited to do this last Wednesday to help sort out some issues that the nightshift folk have not been properly tending to. His sleeping/eating/everything schedule is severely screwed up and he had to work the weekend. He actually took several shirts out of the closet yesterday to hang over our two bedroom windows to help block out the light because our shades don't shade to pitch black. It looked like we were holding a small rummage sale in our bedroom. He quickly gained more wisdom and switched to hanging blankets when I got home today; much better. Hmmm. I like our shades, but maybe a permanent switch is in our future.
Anyway, I'm driving home from work, get down our road, and there is a small road crew making a big racket in the street one house up from us. According to the roadworker who I inquired to, they are installing a gasline for our new neighbor who is building a rather large house across the street. How nice. I know they have to do these things for reasons, but the timing couldn't have been worse. They're still going at it and it's about 6:15. Here's hoping they're working late because they're wrapping it up and won't be back tomorrow.
So you're probably wondering what this has to do with zucchini? Well, nothing. I just had to complain to someone for a minute, and that lucky someone was you. Today in the kitchen at work, a friendly sign was hanging up on one of the cabinets "Are you expecting excess zucchini?" It was a pitch to request zucchini to make bread for elderly folks, which is a really super sweet gesture. However, the first thing I thought of was some poor pregnant woman, tired and worn out and frustrated because she was expecting zucchini. Get it? Just how many zucchini are in a typical litter anyway? And what do you do with them once you give birth - are they a fairly independent species, not requiring much additional care? Do the parents let the "runt", or disfigured zucchinis die, i.e. survival of the fittest, or worse EAT them themselves? Shudders. . .
OK, ok. Many years ago I once dreamt that I gave birth to a baked potato. It was in a baby carriage and everything. I've always loved eating potatoes - mashed, french fries, scalloped, baked, all the good stuff. Maybe that's why my mind went where it did. I just couldn't help it I guess. Still wonder to this day just what that dream meant when the memory of it crosses my mind.