Broccoli, Backs and Banana Bread

I don't know why this insane broccoli plant is still alive.  It certainly didn't thrive this much last summer; but here it is, nearly three feet tall and blooming right at the top.  With one "head", or whatever you call those things they sell in the store.  Did you know that if you let them alone and don't cut them off to eat them, they turn into huge gangly flower blossoms?  It's true.  Because I'm looking at this thing all winter long, as it keeps doing this, and thinking to myself: Why bother cutting off one lousy broccoli stem when it won't even serve one person for dinner?  Calculating how many would go into a "normal" serving, I figure we're going to need to raise another twenty or thirty plants.

Where on earth are we going to put them?

Probably doesn't matter.  I can guarantee that the moment they go back into the garden this spring, they're all going to wilt and die.  Except one.

I spoiled it rotten all winter long.  Fed it daily, gave it the best spot in the house for sunlight (two corner windows), pampered it like it was my own kid.  And it did well.  For a plant that obviously doesn't want to be eaten.

Harrumph.  And I like broccoli for dinner, too.

This is a typical scene around our house on the weekends.  Girls working on various electronic devices, either for "social media" or for writing stories, and a cat or two lying thither and yon upon the couch.  Mostly Alfred, who likes to be petted or rubbed or stroked for a little while and then wants it to stop.  He'll help you know when to stop by reaching back with his mouth and biting the hand that strokes him.  Except he has no teeth.  So it's less like biting and more like gumming.

He can still pinch, though.

 Mary got lucky here.  He's all curled up and enjoying it, and doesn't look like he's going to get nasty about it. Really, it's the arthritis speaking when he bites/gums.  The poor cat, who must be fifteen or sixteen years old (at least) by now, has chronic arthritis (thus saith the vet), but refuses to take any meds for it.  So he gets by with a few light backrubs during the day, whenever he can get them.  If you come over and sit on our couch -- and don't move too quickly, which will frighten him -- he'll (eventually) jump up there right beside you and let you try out your rubbing technique on him.

But be ready in case he decides to "ask" you to stop.

We had so many bananas, and they were all past ripe.  I can't eat the ones that are ripe, let alone the ones that are past ripe; so it was definitely time to make some banana bread.  Mary helped me out here.  The two of us spent a wonderful afternoon in the kitchen making it, then several days eating it.

What?  We forgot to send you some?  Sorry, the bread was soooo good, we must've forgotten.  Better put your orders in now if you want any next time!

Hmmm... looks like there's another batch of overripe bananas in the kitchen.  Guess I know what we'll be doing this weekend!