Yes, this is totally staged, a full 24 hours after the incident. That's why the leaves are all wilty. But you get the idea. (Also, no I have no idea why my pants look so weird in this photo.)

Yes, this is totally staged, a full 24 hours after the incident. That's why the leaves are all wilty. But you get the idea. (Also, no I have no idea why my pants look so weird in this photo.)

I did it. I finally got pushed over the edge and I did it. I killed one of the three zucchini plants. On purpose. And I’d do it again.

Did I say three? Why, didn’t I say in the last zucchini post that I’d planted two zucchinis this year? Yes, I did. And then that charming little acorn squash seedling a neighbor gave me started bearing fucking zucchinis this week. That did it.

I made lots of responsible noises in my previous posts about using all that zucchini we were getting from the garden even though I was totally sick of the stuff. I had every intention of trying many of your suggested recipes, and finding the joy in zucchini again.

Nope. I was already too far gone. The thought of eating zucchini again in this calendar year is enough to make me gag. In fact, I’m getting significantly queasy writing this post. I’ve overdone food before. I ate so many mangos during the summer of ‘96 that I used up my lifetime allotment of mangoes and am now quite allergic to them (full body rash, if you must know). Billy made this “triple-layer” mushroom feast when we were first dating that defies description and put me off button mushrooms until very, very recently.

But this? I’ve really done it this time. (Excuse me a moment, will you? Feeling a bit ill.)

So when that stupid potted zucchini that was supposed to be an acorn squash sent up its stupid green phalluses I went into a bit of a blind squash rage. First I handed that offending container across the fence to my neighbor who had not planted zucchini this year and so was not sick of it yet. (I was tempted to smash it on the patio instead, but it’s in a good clay pot and I’m a frugal pilgrim at heart.) Then I donned my gardening gloves and ripped the smaller of the two remaining plants from the ground.

You might say that if I’d really meant business, I would have torn out the much bigger plant that’s doing all the heavy production. You’d probably be right. I’m still harvesting the zucchini and freezing it in hopes that I’ll be willing and able to eat it again in the future. But for now, it felt damn good to kill that fucking plant. Just don’t report me to the vegetarian police. I think I may have violated some code of ethics or other.

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