Jan's-of-the-World, don't watch!
Monday, February 23, 2009
Thursday, February 19, 2009
Somewhere, in the process of stepping up and doing their part for mother earth, people were deeply traumatized by this immediate throwback to childhood and the most organic circus of all - urban composting. And, immature at heart, I could only giggle and shriek at the thought of it all.
Here, then, are the best of the readers' comments:
"My roommate and I attempted to compost with a worm bin in our kitchen starting last summer, and have made attempts with three batches of worms, all with the same results: worm death...we always came home to find worms spread out, dried and dead, all over the kitchen floor. Too hot, too wet, too dry, too much citrus, not enough ventilation, too much frozen food, too much fresh food, or a combination of these factors led us to give up after the third tragic attempt."
(Some good news) "Worms eat the bacteria involved in decomposition, they cannot "chew".
"My roommates and I put a worm bin in our kitchen (off to the side) and successfully composted for a few months with no bad smells or problems. We didn't have to take the trash out as much and it was wildly entertaining. Unfortunately, disaster struck one fateful day in August when the temperature of our kitchen killed ALL of our little worm friends. R.I.P fellows. It also killed any desire for indoor composting."
"My fatal error was spritzing the top of the bin with water each time I fed it...Two days later, the floor around the bin was littered with dried corpses. Desperate to save the few remaining worms, I tore up several cardboard boxes and newspapers and mixed the shreds into the stinking wet waste. Unfortunately, this activated the compost pile. The whole bin grew hot to the touch. It steamed for several days, and the few brave worms that had survived the flood cooked."
Monday, February 16, 2009
* I attached this letter as a comment to this post...
Saturday, February 14, 2009
Wednesday, February 11, 2009
They descended on the stage, teeny and shoeless (the teeny part probably had a bit to do with my upper tier, upper balcony (up up up) seats) and folded themselves into two giant arm chairs. Elizabeth Gilbert and Ann Patchett, together for only the second time in their lives, compliments of Literary Arts' Arts & Lecture series. They sat across from one another and chatted, like the girlfriends they were (on stage in front of several thousand people, mind you). Elizabeth Gilbert claimed that if she stopped writing, she'd just find something else to do, it wouldn't cause her to go into crisis. A pushy boutique salesperson would be good, she thought. Ann Patchett would make complex, minute dioramas, which seemed fitting to the detailed care she gives to characters in her novels. Neither said anything too revolutionary, but both were smart, funny, and self-deprecating. They talked about the demands of being female and a writer. Ann Patchett's agent, she shared, had made her an apron that said, "What would Philip Roth Do?" So today, I suggest we all mutter that to ourselves, as we go about our day. Thanks, A & E.
Sunday, February 8, 2009
green garlic gnocchi were thwarted when a Pastaworks employee admonished me that the greens wouldn't be ready locally for at least a month, maybe two. Feeling cranky and rebellious against it all - people, the economy and limited produce - I purchased three spendy and decidedly not local Meyers lemons.
And this morning, I turned the lemons into a tangy curd. My mood, and my kitchen, moved a little closer to sunshine, too.