Compost Tea

Thinking about composting. Charlie starts school tomorrow and this is how I distract myself! Thinking about worms turning our table scraps into great soil.

Non-urban living (as I like to call it, as I refuse to use the "s" word.) has been great with a few moments of panic thrown in, when I notice my life resembling something from television a la Desperate Housewives, or better TV, Knots Landing. When the men leave for the day, we women talk about what time of day is best to start making meatballs or, who do you think shot the neighbor's dog? Did that neighbor really set fire to his next door neighbor's car- with her mother in it? The burnt out shell is still there.

I bought those plastic "children at play" placards for when all of the kids are out on their bikes and scooters. The The teenagers around the corner (grandchildren of the accused arsonist) have slowed down, and the middle-age daughter of the burn victim says the hood now resembles the times of her youth. Yes, same hood. Same house. We're a mix of old and new here.

So composting. With worms, I think. Charlie is starting school tomorrow by getting on a little yellow school bus and his lunch box. And although I won't be following the bus, I'll be waiting for that bus to arrive safely at his school and then I will lurk in the lobby hoping he is doing better than me. Then we go through this again with Emilia next week, who, although I assume she'll be fine at her new school, might surprise all of us an have a difficult time with the tranisition. And then I start work again.