Everybody do the worm.

I have worms. Not in the gross way, but the good, composty sort of way. I found a worm seller in Spring Hill, KS (or rather, the worm-preneur found me, via this blog), and on Sunday Andrew and I drove down there and bought three-quarters of a pound of red wigglers. They also gave us a bag of manure and castings to help us get our bin started. Very nice. They gave the worms to us in this jar that they had labeled with their own company label. Pretty cool. I think I may have been the first customer, which is also awesome.

In case you’re interested in starting your own worm bin, here’s how I did it. But don’t copy me until I update you on whether it’s working or not.

Step 1: Buy container; drill air holes.
Step 2: Fill with shredded paper.
Step 3: Let cat play in shredded paper.
Step 4: Dampen paper with squirt bottle.
Step 5: Put on rubber gloves; dump in manure/castings.
Step 6: Dump in jar of worms.
Step 7: Realize that worms will not just fall out of the jar.
Step 8: Reach into the jar and start shoveling out worms.
Step 9: Huh. Notice that worms are much warmer than I expected.
Step 10: Shovel more worms.
Step 11: Bury worm pile with shredded paper.
Step 12: Add handful of chopped up food waste; cover with more shredded paper.
Step 13: Put lid on, wait for something to happen.

Third time's the charm.

Once you are married, are you supposed to stop celebrating all your previous “anniversaries”?

Today marks seven years since Andrew and I began dating. Or rather, it marks seven years since I gave in to Andrew’s relentless wooing and decided to give him another shot, since we had actually already dated and broken up twice before. And I’d already vowed that I was through with him, because a girl can only take so much heartache, especially from someone so handsome. And charming. And funny. And smart.

But because of the handsome/charming/funny/smart characteristics, I gave him another shot. So glad I did. Because now, seven years later, we’re still celebrating. Our official anniversary is now our wedding date, but surely it’s okay to remember all the little milestones that got us to where we are.

The next “anniversary”? September 2, the day Andrew unofficially asked me to marry him, closely followed by September 19, when I got the official, down-on-one-knee-oh-and-here’s-a-sparkly-ring proposal. Ah, memories.

V is for Vermicompost: Continued

On Saturday morning, I woke up at 6:40am, showered, and went to the farmers' market (the big one in KC, the one that is a 25-minute drive to reach) because the worm guy was going to be there. And I had spent my Friday night shredding paper and drilling holes in a plastic storage bin so I'd be ready for my worms. (I know, you are sooo jealous of my fantastic weekend, right?) (Seriously, though, my weekend was fantastic.)

But the worm guy was not there. We walked everywhere, up and down the rows, but we couldn't find anyone selling worms. We did buy six peaches, a bunch of onions, and a dozen ears of corn (that, incidentally, had tiny worms in them). But the worm guy wasn't there.

Due to the magical power of the smart phone, we looked him up on teh intarweb, and found that due to the recent surge in popularity of the worms, he wasn't going to the farmers' market in order to give his worms time to, um, replenish, if you know what I mean (bow chicka bow wow).

Sigh.

He'll allegedly be back selling worms at the farmers' market on July 18. And that is when I will start vermicomposting. Allegedly.

Noteworthy Thursday #27

Dear Time Warner,

Sigh . . .

Please fix our internet. Once again, it fails us.

Kthxbai.

Sincerely,

Megan

Happy Birthday, Dad!

Today is my dad’s 60th birthday. I can’t believe he’s 60. Shouldn’t he be retired by now? I can remember celebrating his 40th birthday. Some friends of his came over and put “over the hill” signs in the yard and strung black balloons around. I don’t think I really got what “over the hill” meant. Maybe I still don’t.

Because now he’s twenty years over the hill, but 60 doesn’t seem that old to me. Sure, my dad’s hair isn’t quite as vibrantly red as it once was, and he has a few more laugh lines than he used to have, but to me, he isn’t very old at all. So, over the hill? Waaaaay over the hill? Not my dad. My dad is still more dedicated to his work than anyone I know. He spends hours taking care of his yard. He gets down on the ground and plays with his grandson. He can do crossword puzzles in circles around me. And I’m pretty sure he’s always able to find his glasses.

One thing about my dad that has always impressed me is his iron will. Because of health issues, my dad refrains from eating sweets. In the last fifteen years, I’ve probably seen him eat only two or three desserts. I went out to lunch today with my parents to celebrate the big 6-0, and even on his 60th birthday—a milestone worthy of cake and ice cream if I ever saw one—he stuck to his no-sweets plan. My mom and I shared a dessert while my dad paid the bill. He didn’t even take a bite. Impressive, no?

Happy Birthday, Dad. Thanks for buying me dessert. It was quite delicious.

V is for Vermicompost!

Today at work I went to the EcoTeam meeting over lunch to hear about vermicomposting. I think I might actually give this a try. The presenter, Eric Williams of thegreenworm.org, was very knowledgeable and interesting, and he made composting with worms sound foolproof.

PROS:

• indoors
• confined to a bin (with a lid!)
• odorless
• no confusing brown/green ratios to worry about
• fast

CONS:

• involves, you know, WORMS (red wigglers, to be exact)
• not suitable for yard waste composting
• worms will double in number in a relatively short amount of time and then you have the problem of what to do with all the extra worms (they can’t survive outdoors as they aren’t native to the area)

Does anyone have any experience with this? My outdoor compost bin has turned out to be sort of a mess. I can’t get the green/brown ratio right, so it stinks. It has also become a breeding ground for roly polies, fruit flies, and ants. I do like that in the outdoor bin I can compost the yard waste . . . but will it work okay without any of the paper or food waste (which would go into the worm bin)? Help!

Noteworthy Thursday #26

This note is very near and dear to my heart. This is something from my late grandfather, and it's just a perfect example of how kind, sweet, loving, and hilarious he was.

The date on the sheet was February, 1994--I would have been 12. (Incidentally, my grandma would have passed away just eight months earlier, I think, if I have my dates straight.) I don't remember why my sister and I stayed overnight with Grandpa, but I love that we were greeted with such kindness and such a sense of fun.

Yet another shameless plug

I know you all love a good gift book. And you especially love a good stimulating conversation. Well, have I got a recommendation for you.

It's a Gift Book From Hallmark! This is called Talk Show: Turn Off the TV and Tune In to Your Family. (Conversation Starter Cards for Hours of Fun.) Basically, each card has a cute, fun, silly, or thought-provoking question that is appropriate for the whole family, and they're guaranteed to get you talking and having a fantastic time. (Okay, not guaranteed in the traditional sense, I do not believe there are cash refunds associated with evenings that are less than stellar.)

Go, go buy it now! I wrote/compiled it, and even after hours spent contemplating each and every question, I would still be a consumer of this product! And if that isn't a good recommendation, I don't know what is.

Benched

You’ll never guess what we did this weekend. I can hardly believe it myself. Andrew and I got matching tattoos!

Just kidding.

Seriously, though. My mother-in-law emailed on Friday and said she was going out of town and that my father-in-law’s best bud and his wife were also going to be out of town. And that, obviously, meant that my FIL needed to be entertained. My MIL asked if we had any projects around the house that needed to be taken care of, because Mark would love to have something to do. I said that we could use some help cleaning out our gutters.

Mark emailed back shortly, saying that he’d come over right after work with the ladder and clean out the gutters. And that maybe Saturday he would come over and build the gate we’d been talking about (a gate to close off our deck to keep the cats on the deck, basically). And true to his word, he was there Friday evening around 6:00 to clean the gutters. And we got to talking, and instead of him coming over on Saturday to build the gate, he was going to come over to build some benches on our deck. Built-ins, around the back corner.

And that sounded awesome. We’d wanted built-in benches for awhile, but it always seemed like one of those future, distant projects, like finishing the basement or cleaning the bathroom.

But all day Saturday and a good chunk of Sunday ending up being devoted to building these benches. No gate yet, though. Maybe next weekend.

This is a candid shot. Apparently this is a face I really make.
I was trying to decide if the seat felt comfortable,
like a reasonable bench seat. Yes, am a dork.

Yes, the one on top is my husband. Isn't he darling?

Noteworthy Thursday #25

This is a thank-you note from my sixth-grade teacher, Mrs. Cox. (tangent: My school had three sixth-grade teachers, and two of them had the name Cox. So we had A. Cox and P. Cox. I had P. Cox; she was the favorite.) Anyway, I apparently gave her a pin and earring set for Christmas. The strange thing about this is the revelation that my teacher worked somewhere on a Saturday.

Um. What? School is only in session Monday through Friday. I still don't know where she was working.