Zucchini Just Comes with Green Pepper

When Kevin and I were in grad school in Albany, our favorite pizza came from this tiny place near campus and our apartments called Sovrano's. The internet tells me it's closed, and it's no wonder--what's amazing is that they stayed in business at all. The pizza was wonderful (even by the slice, even at non-peak hours), but there was nowhere to sit, no way to predict how much your slices might cost (it was always between $2 and $3.50, but there was no clear relationship between number or type of toppings and price), and no way to guess what might be on a particular pizza, even when you'd ordered it.

We usually ordered tomato and zucchini, and about half the time it was tomato, green pepper, and zucchini. We finally asked why and were told "zucchini just comes with green pepper." Evidently, the containers were next to each other, and by the end of the day they were both about half zucchini and half pepper, so if you ordered one, you got the other too. (Fortunately, the meat containers were on the other side of the prep area.)

So now we say "zucchini just comes with peppers" to describe features that just exist, for no apparent reason, with the thing you want. Not bad features necessarily (since we like green peppers, getting them at random wasn't a problem), just inexplicable and extra.

All this to say that, because zucchini comes with peppers, the built-in cameras on Macs take mirror image pictures, rather than regular pictures--that's why it looked like I was reversed in the pictures of my new glasses.

Speaking of pictures, what are the chances, do you think, that I'll take advantage of a sunny, work-from-home day to take pictures of my knitting and spinning? I've developed quite a backlog--2 pairs of adult socks, one pair of baby socks (imagine Moppet's red ear warmers, but navy blue), at least 2 new hanks of handspun, and it feels like I'm forgetting something.