"But no one digs like the mighty worm..." - Ralph's World, in "The Mighty Worm"

After I dealt with the overdue fines on the children’s books (they charge fines for books from another district library, but not your home library); returned the books I could find; got a list of the ones we can’t (down to four, now); and resolved the $35-replacement-fee for a $12-book (I am personally ordering a replacement copy for $12 + $3 shipping, and they will accept that as long as it is EXACTLY THE SAME – um, ever heard of this crazy little thing known as an ISBN?), I made Primo lurk in the stacks while I speed-perused the organic gardening books. (He entertained himself by teaching himself about the LC call numbers, with a little instruction from me. I was so proud.)

I emerged from the library with the following books:

The $64 Tomato: How One Man Nearly Lost His Sanity, Spent a Fortune, and Endured an Existential Crisis in the Quest for the Perfect Garden - William Alexander. I fear I am coming on with the fervor of the newly-converted zealot. This book might just put me back in my place.

Portrait of a Burger as a Young Calf: The Story of One Man, Two Cows, and the Feeding of a Nation - Peter Lovenheim. I read Fast Food Nation; it scared the bejesus out of me. I read Ruth Ozeki’s My Year of Meats; also terrifying. So why not go for three? Besides, how do you resist the title?

The Urban/Suburban Composter - Mark Cullen & Lorraine Johnson. I am happy enough contributing to my neighbor’s compost bin; but there’s still stuff I don’t know what to do with. I am hoping this book will provide some answers. (And I have been doing research into the dog waste issue. This concerns me even more than the disposable diapers, as at some point Terzo WILL be potty-trained, but I don’t anticipate Punto ever figuring it out.)

*************

Chicken of the post: Australorp.
Great layer (avg 5/wk); docile, and pretty, too!
Cluck cluck cluck, cheep, cheep...


*************

In other, non-gardening, non-chicken-related news, I decided against running this and registered for this, instead. I need longer than a few months to get ready for a half, and my crotchety knees have already begun protesting.
But on the upside, I managed to run two-and-a-half miles this morning without stopping. Well, I PLOD, but I didn’t STOP plodding, is the point.
My brain loves its endorphin bath.