Problem: 
Q: The sudden burst of spring produce in the market after a long, monotonous winter of cavolo nero and bright oranges is one of the things that constantly reminds me why I love living and eating in Italy. A wander through the market like any other becomes, in spring time, a new experience. I feel like a fresh arrival, like it’s my first time walking through my local market. There are long, twisty fava bean pods, waiting to be podded and munched on with bitey pecorino cheese to tame the bitterness of the raw beans. Thin, long-stemmed asparagus. A lovely array of greens, including radishes with leaves so happy that they become the main ingredient, fluffy-fronded fresh herbs and fresh garlic. Artichokes of many different kinds, but especially the pointed purple ones that are either local, from Tuscany’s Maremma, or sometimes from Puglia or Sicily. Rarely the rounded globe artichokes you find spilling out of crates in Rome, or the tiny, delicate Venetian ones, the so-called castraure (though they often aren’t the real deal, how you can tell is by the price) that you can find in the shadow of the Rialto. And then there are thick bunches of agretti (salsola soda), looking more like mermaid’s hair than a monk’s beard, their English namesake. A few years ago, this wasn’t such a common sight at the market in Florence. It still isn’t, in that you won’t get them by the crateful like you do fava beans and artichokes, though they’re not particularly difficult to find now. They’re just one of those special things that don’t last long. Blink and you’ll miss them, or come late to the market and they could easily be sold out. It’s worth getting up and out of the house a little earlier for these (a note to myself, of course). If you’ve never tasted agretti before, it’s worth seeking out if you’re in the right place at the right time and find a bunch or see it on a menu. Frances Mayes likens it to spinach, but notes that it is so much more, “While agretti has the mineral sharpness of spinach, it tastes livelier, full of the energy... Question: Why would the narrator get up a little earlier? === The answer to the above question is
Answer: To get Monk's beard before it is sold out
Problem: 
Q: A beautiful, sexy redhead sat across from Greg Tenorly. He was nervous about the closed door, but she had insisted. The slightest hint of impropriety would spark a blaze of rumors. Greg tried to concentrate on her story. But his mind wandered to his 34-year-old receding hairline and bulging stomach. The part-time music minister had been feeling good about himself ten minutes ago. Time to start exercising again. "I grew up in Marshall. Graduated from East Texas State, and got a job at a bank in Greenville. Three years ago, I moved here so I could be closer to Mom. She still lives in Marshall. I met Troy at a high school football game. He was fun, down-to-earth. We've been married for two years." Cynthia Blockerman was a vice president at First State Bank, yet only in her late 20's. She certainly looked the part, dressed in an expensive brown business suit, matching shoes and tasteful jewelry. And her shoulder-length hair was the kind you only see in shampoo commercials. Greg felt underdressed in his faded golf shirt, baggy slacks, and generic running shoes. "Everything was fine for the first six months or so. But I guess he was just playing the part of a good husband. Then I started to see his real personality. As soon as he gets home from work, he goes straight for the beer. By nine, there's a pile of cans next to his recliner, and he's calling me names, and throwing things. "Sometimes he hits me. He did it one time before we got married, but he said he was so sorry. And even broke down and cried. He promised he'd never do it again." "Is there anything in particular you say or do that seems to set him off?" It was a dumb question, but the only one he could think of. "No. It doesn't matter. I can be extra sweet, or mean, or just ignore him. He still gets mad and crazy. I don't know what to do. I want to leave him, but I'm afraid he'll come after me." Question: What is Troy's job? === The answer to the above question is
Answer: not enough information
Problem: 
Q: Yes. I had a stress heart attack five years ago. My step-son is a heroin addict. He will be on an opioid agonist for the rest of his life. His behavior mirrored the worst of what addicts do to a family. I was desperate to make a change, and my husband was desperate to save his son’s life. That meant having to watch my husband support my step-son as he abused me and my children. Multiple criminal behaviors, many times the police came to the house, two convictions, long-term parole. Watching him threaten to kill me, kill his father, and kill his younger brother and sister. Add to that a very stress job situation with a new boss who decided he needed a new VP, but had no basis to terminate my employment, so instead was determined to make my work life a living hell on earth. So, yep, I had a heart attack. I’m still angry at everything that led up to the heart attack. I’m working really hard on forgiving my husband, forgiving my step-son, and the overwhelming guilt of my children seeing me as an accomplice to their abuse. I found a new job, and then had the pleasure of seeing my former boss fired by the Board of Directors. Since then I find I’m hyper-vigilant in issues of child abuse, worker abuse, addiction, lying and deceit (Trump trigger), and feeling somewhat betrayed by my husband. I honestly think if it had been one of my children doing the abusing, I would have found a way to put my child into long-term rehab. I would not have pretended it wasn’t happening, or “not that bad” or other form of denial. As is, I lived through this hell for two years, and a part of me will never forgive for how it all came about. Probably TMI, sorry. Becky Question: Who did the stepson apologize to? === The answer to the above question is
Answer: