499 Hermans and a Bob
I don’t remember when I first heard about worm composting. I’m sure it happened the way most of my brilliant ideas do – the concept swirled around in my head for a few months until it was suddenly called to action. I went out and picked up a copy of the official Worm Bible, “Worms Eat My Garbage” by Mary Appelhof.
Mary maintains that worm composting is very simple. Give the worms what they need: a box in a warm (room temperature) place, bedding (shredded newspaper), food (your waste food scraps), and sometimes a little water. Voila! They will chomp through your potato peelings and produce beautiful worm castings (poop) and, well, more worms.
For those of us with a minimal sense of adventure, Mary provides detailed instructions on how to build and set up a worm bin. She even did a thorough scientific study of how much garbage worms can eat and encourages newbies to use a kitchen scale if they’re worried about underfeeding or overfeeding their worms.
So my dad helped me build a worm bin, back in 2004. My roommate at the time was very supportive, if a little reluctant to actually touch the worms. The worms – red wrigglers, to be precise – arrived by mail one afternoon in a paper bag tucked inside a box of straw. We opened the bag carefully and my roommate inquired if I intended to name them all. There were probably about 500 in the bag and I was feeling uncreative so I dubbed them all Herman. Except for the one named Bob, although he was soon lost in the crowd.
The worm bin was a great asset to apartment living except for the dreaded fruit fly incident of ’05. I have since learned that baking soda is a great remedy for controlling fruit fly episodes, although I have not tried it. When I moved to Oregon, the worm bin was passed on to my friend Sarah, whose cats enjoyed sitting on it for nearly two years. Last summer, the worm bin returned to me. It has languished unused in my parents’ garage for over a year. Now it is 2008 and I am determined to become a worm wrangler once more. I need to make a few upgrades to ye ol’ worm box, and it will be time to start again.
I think this time I’ll call them Esmerelda.
I hate to say this after all we’ve been through, tuna, but I’m ending this. We had some good times over the years and I’ll always remember my dad’s chipped tuna on toast. More recently, you’ve been there when I needed to spruce up a sandwich or some pasta.
In the past several days, we’ve discovered that we’re no longer very excited about NZ. The lack of a definite agenda worries me a little (I’m easily bored and would prefer not to spend the honeymoon playing with my laptop). But far and away the most troubling issue is the flight there. 16 hours in the air and a full day of travel on either end of the trip makes it much less appealing. That’s also a lot of jet fuel to pump into the atmosphere.
I didn’t used to care very much about what I ate. I always tried to eat basically healthy and my body has always been quick to correct me for gross violations (e.g. ice cream is not an acceptable dinner). But now I’ve started to look a little more closely at what goes into my body. There is a lot of conflicting nutritional information out there (Atkins? Vegetarianism? Traditional ethnic diets?) but I’m currently basing my diet on two general principles:
It’s slightly past the prime gift-giving season, but Wise Bread has a good post up about
No, what we mainly argue about is food. I’m definitely a meat and potatoes kind of guy. If a meal doesn’t have some kind of starch or serious protein, it just doesn’t fill me up. Maggie, on the other hand, figures the greener and crunchier the better. I’m also much less willing to spend extra money on organic food when a frozen pizza will work just as well.
This was not my idea. In fact, I’m not sure how the idea started. It might have begun when we were looking around for extra income beyond selling plasma or recycling the neighbor’s copper wiring. It might have been spurred by Will’s fascination of all thing Web 2.0 and his frustration with my utter lack of comprehension. (I can never remember if Web 2.0 is the old stuff or the new stuff.)
