It's Wednesday somewhere

I won’t be able to count the worms tomorrow, (Worm Wednesday), because M. will be in her first graduation ceremony from the UW, the small geeky ceremony for the youngest grads.  At 19, she might be among the oldest in this little grad pack.  To hear her tell it, there will be a bunch of awkward kids giving hurried speeches while looking down at their shoes when they receive their diploma, saying things like, “thank you.  I am going on to work in the International Gamma-Ray Astrophysics Laboratory this summer.  Excuse me, I have an experiment underway and must get back to it.” 

Besides that it’s my child graduating, and I’m extremely proud, it also seems inappropriate to not attend because it’s the day I count the worms.  It really does, doesn’t it?  Especially since it’s only the second week, it’s not like I’m in this established pattern (like some other things that I won’t go into here.)

All that being said, you’re possibly a little tired of the worms yourself.  You may be asking, “Wait, how did this happen?  I was going along, normal as can be, when suddenly I realized that I have become a person who reads a blog about earthworms.  About a very small number of earthworms, to be exact.  It wasn’t always about worms, right?  Wasn’t it about canned ham for a while?  Is this the bait and switch thing, only just bait and then more bait, actual fishing bait?”

So here is a tiny explanation on why we are ALL (and yes, I mean you) quite excited about the worms.  There’s so much grim lately, all around.  That oil spill, for one, which is slowly wrecking the Gulf of Mexico, and they can’t get a handle on it, and that ecosystem is irreparably altered.  And the weather, which has been ridiculous: 60% more rain than normal in May, and 21 days with measurable precipitation, and no end in sight. There’s the economy, of course. 

And here’s another one – yesterday all that talk about thanking the veterans for the sacrifices they’ve made to protect our freedom that made me a little sick to my stomach.  We should be apologizing to the veterans rather than thanking them.  We should be saying, wow, we are so sorry and ashamed that in the face of a dispute, all we can think to do is to send young people with weapons to fight.  That’s our best idea.  It isn’t a sacrifice anyone should be allowed to make, and we are so, so sorry.  We're so sorry that so many of you never come back, or if you do, you've seen and done things that have changed you forever so that you can't live this life the way you were meant to, and we don't have the tools to help you.  We're ashamed of ourselves for sending you off like that.  And we're sorry for the people who love you, whos' lives have been damaged too.  And, by the way, your sacrifice had very little to do with freedom. 

So back to the worms, they’re so simple and happy and safe in their little plastic box.  You've gotta admit, they make you a little bit happy, don't they?

I asked R. to be my Science Assistant this evening, and he stood by bravely and yo-yo’ed while I gently sifted through the box and counted the worms.  Five worms.  Same as last week.  But one was very, very little, so I’m pretty sure it born since my last count.  It appears that one died and one was born, which would be a good pace for humans on the planet, but it doesn’t make for a productive worm farm.