Friday, we should get a visit from our son, to help us with an electronics situation. I wanted to give you all a sneak preview of part of how we will pay our son for the services needed. Yes, dear son, most of these will be yours.
There's a story behind this yummy looking picture.
Saturday, my son showed up at our house. He was going to drive my spouse, my brother in law, and me down to his Grandma's (my spouse's mother) house for Thanksgiving dinner #2. We were going to leave right after he arrived.
He handed me a bag. In the bag were five large, quite ripe bananas.
"Here, Mom", he said. "I forgot I didn't have to work Thursday or Friday. These aren't going to last until I return to work Monday." They sure weren't. They didn't look like they would last till Sunday.
I'm staring at these bananas. I don't normally eat bananas (long story). My son knows that.
But, I came from the "starving children of Europe era" (I'm 60) i.e., the 1950's, when every mother proclaimed to their picky-eating offspring "Clean your plate! Think of the starving children of Europe!" I never did figure out how my cleaning my plate would feed the starving children of Europe but I, and other members of my American generation, are members of the Clean Plate Club.
(The Clean Plate Club really did exist, and it had to do with the starving children of World War I and American food supplies. Made sense then. By 1957, I don't know. Maybe my Mom, who was born while World War I was still ongoing, was a charter member, and membership just got passed down to my generation. However, I digress.)
So, from cultural upbringing, I had to take those bananas. I can't throw food away. Unless it's moldy, which is a story for another day.
Tomorrow - the Baking of the Banana Bread Muffins, including (sort of) my recipe.