Author: John Brown

I’ve solved the banana bane.

The banana bane is this. You buy bananas, and the next day they’ve got freckles. Nobody likes freckled bananas, so everyone leaves them on the counter, thinking that someone else in the family must be a freckled banana fan. But nobody is a freckled banana fan, which means a few days after that, they’re brown. Then black. Then you toss them into the garbage and go to the store and start it all over.

I’m going to tell you how to stop the madness. I’m going to tell you what you do with brown bananas. The Brown family discovered this last week. (Yes, the Brown family discovered the solution to brown bananas, strange, isn’t it…)

I know some of you are thinking, oh, banana bread.

Are you kidding? Banana bread is cake in bread form. It’s nice once in a while. But who wants to make four loaves of cake every week and gain five million pounds?

I’m not talking about a sumo weight-gain program that involves cake.

And I’m not talking about taking them over to Joan and Cardon Willis’s place and feeding them to their pigs. They have a very nice sow who, Joan reports, loves bananas. The sow’s little piglets do whatever she does. She scratches her bum on a post; they scratch their bums. She grunts; they grunt. So I assume since mumma loves bananas, the little piggies love bananas too. But I’m not talking about turning your bananas into someone else’s bacon.

No.

I’m talking about extending their useful life by days.

I’m talking about consuming them yourself.

I’m talking about making something delicious, sweet, and healthy with them.

What is this magnificent discovery?

Smoothies.

With brown bananas.

What?

Yes. Look, we were out of fruit. We had milk, freckled bananas sliding towards completely toasty tan, and a little bit of chocolate powder. We were desperate.

Desperate people try desperate things. Some do not work out. Like the one time I tried asparagus in eggs. Think green sticks for breakfast. But sometimes they do.

Case in point: John’s Chocolate Banana Whip.

• 1 brown or freckled banana
• 1 cup of milk (use almond milk if you don’t like the cow variety)
• 1 tablespoon Nesquick (no, you don’t need the 3 tablespoons they recommend)

Throw it all in the blender and frappe until smooth.

It’s heaven. Especially good after a nice hike-jog in the middle of the day.

BTW, frappe is one of those words that makes you think I know what I’m talking about. Can you feel my chef aura radiating off the page?

But Nesquick, John. That’s so white-trash unhealthy.

Fine, you don’t want the added sugar? No problem. Try this one.

Ellianna’s Strawberry Surprise

• 1 brown or freckled banana
• 1 cup of milk
• 1 cup frozen strawberries

Frappe until you’re happy.

You can do this with frozen blueberries. You can add Greek yogurt–and let me tell you the Great Value plain Greek yogurt made with whole milk is delicious. You can add more fruit. Less fruit. Add ice. Whatever you like.

The bottom line is that brown bananas are delicious in smoothies. And they should be—bananas are at their sweetest when they’re brown.

It’s summer. It’s hot. Time for smoothies with sweet brown bananas.

*****

I like a clean van. But I live in the country, and I don’t have a pickup. This means the minivan has to haul stuff. It’s hauled hay, plants, dirt, kids—you name it.

We vacuum, but there are things a vacuum can’t touch. And if we want our van carpet and upholstery shampooed, we have to drive an hour to Logan, then leave the car at the shop for a full day.

A full day.

They want you to drop it off in the morning, pick it up in the afternoon. So what am I  going to do all day? Bring my bicycle and ride around with Brent, the happy dude with horns and flags on his bike that pedals up and down main street, waving to everyone?

Needless to say, shampooing was infrequent.

But then one day a few weeks ago I was talking to Patrick Floyd in Laketown. I was actually talking to him in Suzanne Siddoway’s basement.

What were two men doing in her basement?

We were doing what many men do in her basement…

We were sitting around waiting for her to cut our hair. What else would men be doing in her basement? (You know, it’s Quin’s basement too.)

And Patrick said that he’d started a new business called Peerless Detailing. He was trained and had the equipment to detail boats, cars, vehicles of all kinds.

I said, “Do you do just a shampoo?”

“Whatever you need,” he said.

I said, “Duuuude!”

You have to read that with kind of a hope, like a thirsty man seeing an ice cream truck in the middle of the Serengeti.

He said, “Yeah.”

I said, “Man.”

He said, “Yup.”

I said, “Alright.”

After that scintillating conversation, I took my van over. Patrick of Peerless did verily clean that carpet and upholstery. And he did it for less money than it would have cost me in Logan! And in less time!

I got back a new van. It smelled great. Looked great. I felt like rolling around on the carpet in joy, but refrained. Instead, I drove home, and everyone in the house rejoiced. We drove around a little, just to celebrate.

A week later, we had to haul more crap. I took the seats out. I put them in the garage. This was a dumb thing to do. I’d learned long ago to put them in the house. See, we leave our garage door cracked so our mouse control service can get in and out, the mouse control consisting of five cats.

Sometimes, other cats figure they can help themselves to whatever’s in the garage. Some of those cats are stray toms. And because I don’t mark my territory with my own scent, which I’m sure would put the fear of whatever cat god is out there into them, they think they can muscle in. Feel like they can claim the place for their own.

And so they spray.

I’ve been meaning to get a gun. A paintball gun, if nothing else. I figure a few stings with a paintball ought to learn the dogs and cats and deer. It’s my theory, and I’m going to test it one of these days. So if you one day see various animals walking around with polka dots, you know what’s going on. Anyway, I don’t have a gun, and I’m not going to go around and mark the perimeter of my yard. You know how much water I’d have to drink!

So this cat came in and sprayed.

He sprayed one of my newly cleaned captain chairs!

(Anyone who wants to practice their marksmanship on live targets, just let me know.)

So what do you do? Well, I’ll tell you this: we didn’t have to set the seat on fire. No. We just called Patrick.

Patrick did his magic and removed the offending blankity-blank cat spray. And the seat was as good as new.

Can I tell you how happy I am we now have someone doing this in Laketown?

I’m ecstatic. I plan to take my vehicles in once or twice a year. Why not?

If you need your boat or car or van detailed, I think you’ll be pleased with Peerless. You can call Patrick at (435) 535-1493 and set up an appointment. I think he’s mobile to boot and can to it at your residence.

*****

Okay, movie time. I have four daughters. They all wanted to see Cinderella.

Except, what new thing can you do with Cinderella?

I mean, how many different ways can you see her leave a glass slipper behind and still reel in shock at the story turn?

Well, how many Bond movies do we see that follow the same darned plot? And we still love them. It’s very often the details that make the difference. And this new Disney version of Cinderella with live actors included a number of wonderful details.

Like how Cinderella got in this fix in the first place. And how her position in the household devolves.

And what’s motivating the stepmother, who is played wonderfully by Cate Blanchette.

And the relationship between the king and prince, and Cinderella and her father.

And a little bit of wisdom.

I enjoyed this film. I think the key thing that lifts this above many remakes is the insight it gives into the key characters and relationships. And the many small surprises along the way.

If you have daughters, this is a no-brainer for a date. If you liked the original Cinderella, I think you’ll be pleasantly surprised by this version. If you like romances, this is a classic. Furthermore, you’ll go away with a little something to think and talk about. I gave it a try; I was glad I did.