The Zucchini and I

Here's something I did not expect to have in my hands when I left work today: an enormous 17-inch zucchini. Keys, yes, cell-phone, certainly. But a colossal garden vegetable? No. Not even close.

And yet, that's what I found myself lugging up (and back down) the hills on my way home, not quite as fast as normal given the extra weight.

Here's how it happened. This morning when I got to work one of my colleagues had brought in zucchinis from her garden to share. She spilled a few samples out onto the table. They rolled to a stop, regular-sized, dark green, perfect-looking.

"Ooooh," I cried. "How cool! We were going to pick some up at the market this weekend, so this is great!"

I reached to grab one and then she came back with another. The biggest zucchini I'd ever seen. Like, it might have won a prize. Instead she was offering it to me. I was hardly deserving of such a gift. After all, I only knew two ways to cook zucchini: I either sauteed it with tomatoes, onions and squash or fried it right up, Southern-style, to sprinkle with salt or dip in ranch dressing.

My eyes widened.

"Oh my god," I said. "I've never seen anything like that!"

She laughed and explained that all her zucchini would grow that size if she didn't pick them in a timely fashion. She hadn't noticed this one (don't ask me how it escaped her--I can't imagine any leaf big enough to cover it) and so it had grown. And grown and grown.

I drew my hand back from the regular-sized zucchinis. She put the monster in my arms. It was the length of an 15-month-old baby.

"You could make a lasagna," she offered.

I nodded, speechless.

And then I took it. When I got ready to go, I rearranged my backpack, stuffing the fat end of the thing down and leaving the narrow end up. But still my bag wouldn't zip around it.

"That's some zucchini," the man in the elevator said, smirking a bit, as I edged past him trying to keep my back to the wall.

I looked at him, felt my face redden.

"I know," I said. "It's embarrassing."

He kept smirking.

"I'm going to make a lasagna," I offered.

He nodded, eyebrows raised, and then exited a floor before me.

"Enjoy," he called out over his shoulder.

I smiled as the elevator doors closed. I was still smiling when they opened a minute later. I hoisted the bag on my shoulders. And then the zucchini and I made our way into the world.