A Zucchini Story

When I was about 13 years old, my mother threw a bridal shower for my cousin. Anxious to be involved in 'grown-up stuff', I begged to help bake. She put me in charge of a cherry cheesecake- not the real kind, the type made with cream cheese and Dreamwhip and canned pie cherries that, to this day, I still can't get enough of. Colaborating with my best friend and little sister, I measured and mixed and ended up with a beautiful 9x13 pan of ruby-red heaven. At least it was heaven until one of us looked at the recipe and realized that we were supposed to bake the graham cracker crust before layering the other ingredients. Oh, horror.

Today I know it was a trivial detail, but I suppose circumstances and early teen drama being what it was, we were soon convinced our only option was to make a new one and destroy the evidence. The fact that we were dying for a taste of our favorite treat had no effect on the decision, I'm sure (wink). And to top it all off, we discovered that my grandma would be dropping by to visit in a mere 15 minutes. What to do, what to do?!

Well, we ate it. We ate the whole thing in 15 minutes flat. Imagination got the better of us and before we knew it, we were living the tragic lives of poor children who would surely be severely punished for their monumental mistake. Grandma was coming and was sure to lower the axe, so what choice did we have?

The first few frenzied bites were divine, and we smiled in our rush to put fork to mouth. Halfway through the pan, we were feeling slightly queasy, but still prepared to take one for the team. Needless to say, by the last bite none of us wanted to see another cheesecake for a very, very long time. I'm pretty sure my mom was astonished when we turned down her offer for an extra large serving of dessert at the shower for helping.

So what does this all have to do with ZUCCHINI? I promise you the title is not false advertising. Today I stopped by the same sister's house to pick her insanely-thriving zucchini since she's out of town. I decided to swing by on my way home from a morning jog, so I was wearing worn-out long shorts and a (now) sweaty t-shirt, messy hair, etc. I didn't look too pretty. As I struggled with the first monster, I was mildly aware that they, for reasons unknown and clearly not thought out, had planted the zucchini in the middle of several rose bushes.

I carefully planted my feet in the midst of the foliage and started on another. I twisted and pulled and could not get the thing to come off. At the same moment I became suddenly aware of the fact that no one in her apartment building knows me, and, in my present ragamuffin state, might take me for a vegetable thief. And, just as I let my imagination run wild with the cheesecake incident, I somehow did the same thing at this possible mis-perception: I was sure someone was watching me in horror from the window, making off with the goods from some poor soul's garden!

Ridiculous as it is, I panicked and tried to run away (much like a vegetable thief, I must observe), but since my feet were placed weird, I turned and fell RIGHT into the rose bushes with all their wicked thorns. Startled, and slightly wounded, I limped out of the garden carrying several club-sized squash and a fair amount of thorns embedded in each thigh. Luckily no one spotted me, and I nonchallantly plucked the thorns from my shorts, tucked a stray whisp of hair behind my ear, and made my way home with the booty.

An over-active imagination can be a painful thing to have.