My New Years Resolution:

I sat on a log bench in the shade on a chilly December morning while a woman in cotton sweats and a long black skirt and converse sneakers spoke of raw garbage and decomposition and the value of worm poop. I was under dressed for the occasion, under-rested as well, perhaps still a wee bit under-sober. And so I shivered as a frosty breeze blew threw the arm holes of my warm up vest, watched the sun warm the earth – causing an adorable tiny ground layer of fog, and listened to our compost master school us on raw trash. My interest in rotting waste had started a few months prior as I began to take notice of all the green trash we throw in the regular garbage. As my trash-guilt grew, so did the realization that a compost bin was not logistically possible for our apartment building. So I started collecting raw waste in a kitchen compost bin and sneaking it into my neighbor’s green bin on garbage day. However, illegal dumping is no way to save the earth. Nor is it a way to make friends with the neighbors. It was then that I looked to the composting abilities of red wigglers. My history with red wigglers was limited to bating my fishing hook and bob-fishing for Brim on Saturdays with my Dad. He thought it was cool that his little girl could bait her own hook, and I thought it was cool that he thought I was cool. Who knew that these little guys (God rest their tiny squirmy souls) eat the rot off of green waste, turning your fruit and veggie scraps into big balls of worm poo. This poop is nitrogen rich, and has anti fungal properties. Its like adding vitamin supplements to your potting soil. This whole process fascinates me and I love the idea of making something useful from my garbage. I decided then that I would bring garbage eating worms to our home, but that I would never tell them any fishing stories about me and my Dad.

I signed up for the Saturday morning Worm Class at Garden for the Environment, in the Sunset District. I got a definite maybe from Aaron when I invited him to attend with me. Friday night holiday parties kept us out into the early morning, and I was sleeping soundly in my bed when Aaron woke me up for worm school. I wasn't going to attend, but he was going with – chased me out of bed, gave me a banana and a beer and we set off to class together. When we pulled up at the garden, Aaron informed me that he was way too hung over to sit outside for two hours but that he knew I really wanted to go to school and that’s why he woke me up and pretended he was going to go with me. I was pissed for about 10 seconds, then I realized what a sucker I was and what a truly thoughtful and endearing dirty trick he pulled on me. I kissed him goodbye and joined the class, he returned to the couch and football.

I froze my arse off for those two hours, but gained a lot of practical worm knowledge. I followed up class with the book, Worms Eat my Garbage, written by the grandmother of Vermiculture, Mary Appelhof. I was educated. I shared my worm knowledge with Courtney, who seemed cautious yet quite excited as she asked, “Can we name them?!!” Kevin and I hammered out basic details of a house worm bin over a few glasses of wine. We addressed such items such as location of the bin, successful worm tending, and if we should mark and name each individual worm or just give them all one name. I was ready to get a worm bin! My favorite worm bins are condominium style, where the worms eat trash on the first floor and then move to their new flat on the second floor when they’ve exhausted their first floor food source. You can add many floors, if you prefer a high-rise. This type of bin is easier to manage indoors, and saves me sorting worms and worm shit once a month. It also has a tap at the bottom that drains ‘worm tea’ – Nitrogen rich liquid former waste that plants just can’t get enough of.

As I prepared to purchase my bin, reviewing the order in my on-line shopping cart, I looked around my room and let the air out of my own sail. There were papers on my desk, random belongings on my bedside table, and clothes strewn so fervently in the room – it looked like the forty niners locker room after a football game. And so I amended my New Years Resolution, to first – keep my room clean for a month, and THEN, after my month of success, after I finally stop leaving a trail of belongings in a path to my room, after I stop forgetting to do my dishes and stop repeatedly losing shit in my purse. THEN I will celebrate by rounding up some worms and bringing them to our Oak Street digs… and placing name tags on each one of them.

Addendum: I always make a throw away resolution… one year I resolved to wear more skirts. This years is to moisturize my hands more often…
The throw away resolution serves two purposes. Every time I moisturize my hands, I will be reminded to keep my room clean. AND, If one day my room is trashed, I’ve lost my keys again, and there are dead worms at my feet – as I’m asking myself when the hell I’m ever going to pull it together, I will reach for my hand lotion and take solace in the simple act of moisturizing.

The End