They say you are what you eat. Those darn “they” again. I don’t automatically trust those “they” people, but in this case, I do. I’m beginning to look green around the edges.

It’s the zucchinis. They’re prolific in my garden and I’ve got them coming out my ears. Which is so very unattractive.

When it comes to zucchinis’ existence, it goes like this: They show up all at once as a horde, and that goes on nonstop for several weeks, and then they’re gone. The trick is what to do with them while they’re in town.

I can unload a few on my neighbors (who don’t really want them because every other neighbor is foisting their excess zucchinis on them; but they take them, knowing I just want to get rid of them any way I can, and their compost pile is just as good as mine). And my daughter can always count on getting two every week.

And that, sadly, is the end of my zucchini network. (Note to self: I need to work on this before next year.)

Me, not being much of a cook, rely on my daughter to introduce me to new zucchini recipes. Like this one I made for dinner last night: I tossed a finely diced medium zucchini into a frying pan of melted butter, and tossed that around until it turned golden brown. I turned the heat to low and smothered the cooked zucchini with mozzarella cheese. Meanwhile, I finished cooking the pasta, into which I had done more tossing, this time with a slew of yellow beans from the garden, drained it, and mixed that into the cheesy zucchini. It tasted great! And lucky me, it made enough for leftovers tonight.

The only trouble with that is now I don’t have to go out to the garden today to look for food. Uh-oh. If there’s one thing to know about zucchini, it’s that you never want to turn your back on them.

Zucchini grows like this: First, there is no zucchini, and then there is. I inwardly shout “Yay” when this happens, because once again a miracle has happened despite my purple thumb (the only thing on me that hasn’t turned green). At this stage, the zucchini looks like an oversized deli pickle, and I say, “Not yet. I’ll come back tomorrow.” Tomorrow comes, and now the zucchini is the size of a medium cucumber, and I pick it, but I leave two others also ready to pick because all I can eat is one at a time. I mean to go back the next day, but don’t. So it’s two days later, and those two cucumber-sized zucchinis are now the size of machine guns, plus, there’s a third one that I failed to see the other day. There’s also a few more pickle-sized ones just getting started.

Here’s a recipe for those “didn’t pick in time” bloated tubes of zucchini flesh: Slice the zucchini into 1/8 inch slices and lay them on a baking sheet. Spread marinara sauce over the slices and top with mozzarella (I sense a theme here). Put in oven and bake like you would a pizza. Little zucchini pizzas.

These are the best! I could eat them every day.

Oh, wait. I do. Along with zucchini fritters, zucchini pancakes, zucchini quiche, the ever-popular zucchini pasta, topped off with a slice of zucchini bread. Man, oh man, I’ve got the zucchini blues.

Today’s listen is to The Commitments …