In a healthy relationship, the cast-off scraps of little battles are thrown into the pile, where time begets a natural heat, slowly turning the parts of the relationship that don't work into something from which better things can grow.

But when the relationship isn't working right—when the pile just can't make enough heat on its own to break down the thorns—sometimes it seems feels like you need professional help.

I moved to Oregon to be with Carmela a few months ago after an overwhelmingly wonderful courtship. Romance is its own sort of special fire, bright enough to blind.

But it wasn't a relationship. Not until I moved here, to Eugene, a sleepy college town, where I rented a beautiful home with a yard big enough for a garden. That's when real life began. Soon after I moved here last spring, I started my first compost pile.

It wasn't much. Just a Tupperware tub with some holes drilled in the bottom. I'd store up food scraps in a plastic tub in the fridge, then take them out every week or so and toss them into the bin. Sometimes my compost bucket would eat up all the scraps in just a few days, turning them into a nearly black, crumbly mess. Every once in a while it would be too wet and I'd have to throw a straw or leaves in to balance it out.

The NatureMill PRO XE indoor composter was delivered a few weeks ago, right around the time that Carmela and I first went to the counselor. It's the new model, which has a stronger, more efficient motor and heater that makes it possible to make mincemeat out of anything—even meat (or mince). This will save a step, I thought. No more caching food scraps indoors for a weekly dump; I'd just toss bits in as I was preparing food.

But an indoor composter doesn't work out so ideally in practice. Not because the NatureMill is hard to use—you can flip up the styrofoam lid at any point and toss in more scraps, although you should give them at least a day to get mashed in—but because even when I'd gotten the required sawdust, baking soda, and scraps mixed in healthy balance, it would still fill my kitchen with the strong odor of turbocharged decay.

And when the balance wasn't right, just a few seconds with the top popped could be nearly overpowering. I'm not terribly sensitive to the odor of compost or even trash, but there are times when one would rather not have to smell it. Like when making dinner, for instance. So my scrap collecting returned to the plastic tub, stored until after dinner was over.

Still, I let the NatureMill work its magic for a couple of weeks, ignoring its periodic whine as its internal actuator turned over the compost inside, even when it occasionally spooked my dog. (In fairness, Porter will bark and growl at nearly any aberrant noise that he doesn't understand as a signal for food.)

Dumping the finished compost was as simple as pressing a button and waiting about 20 minutes while the S-shaped arm pushed the compost from the hopper into a simple terra cotta-colored plastic bin below. The entire house filled with the vaguely sexual smell of composted food.

I was left with a brown lump of stuff that was indistinguishable from its original form—a good sign. As compost from the machine is still relatively fresh, NatureMill recommends putting it outside to cure. I plomped the steaming goop onto my garden, now covered in leaves and tattered corn stalks, where I hope it will seep into the soil for next year, even if it's looking increasingly likely that I won't be here to plant it.

We'd been having problems pretty much since I had arrived. Problems that we'd try to till under, give time to decompose on their own, but which would invariably insinuate themselves back into our relationship with the sweet smell of decay.

The counselor was our best chance, we thought. We needed outside help, some extra heat. It turned out to be too much heat. We barely made it through a single session before the counselor told us we should just break up, that we weren't going to be able to turn the relationship into something fecund and sustaining.

We got into the car, stunned, and drove home to surrender.

There's a place for the NatureMill, I think. And I mean besides outside in your garage. The ability to turn things like meat or even pet waste into compost is something that regular old compost piles just can't—or at least shouldn't, bacterially—do. If you're the sort that wants to turn every last scrap of waste back into your garden, I don't know of a better option. It's also entirely possible that one could get the smell more under control, especially by avoiding the composting of meat or dairy products.

But for most people, especially people with the outdoor space for a compost pile or bin, it might be better to save the four hundred dollars for something else. The NatureMill, with its smells and noises and need to be washed down occasionally—not to mention the trouble that will come when one eventually runs out of the little sawdust pellets they provide—isn't easier than doing it the old-fashioned way.

It's an industrial machine for a primeval process. And it works. Works very well. But I think sometimes it might be better to let nature take its course, push everything under a pile out of sight, and pretend the whole world always smells sweet.

In the middle of a relentlessly gray winter, can you imagine anything more wonderful? I cannot.

For those of you who prefer the temptations of caffeine, the $99 Bialetti Hot Chocolate Maker also makes teas and cappuccino, puddings and "cold milk beverages." But today isn't a cold milk day, is it? [Williams Sonoma via Unplggd]

It's pretty simple: Just flip the cube so the length of time you want counted down is the number on top. If you outfit your kitchen with items from the MoMA catalog, this'll fit right in. Just hope that every recipe you make calls for either 3, 10, 30 or 60 minute increments, or wait until the Dungeons and Dragons 20-sided timer comes out. It's available in three colors for $34 each. [OhGizmo]

Designed by artist Zeger Reyers, the kitchen was put in motion last week at the opening of Eating the Universe at the Kunsthalle Düsseldorf in Germany. Apparently, it will continue to rotate slowly for the duration. [trendbeheer via today and tomorrow via Likecool]

Yes, with just 1 tbsp of oil, you too can "fry" 2.2lbs of fries. And that claim seems legit, as the ActiFry uses a what looks like convection cooking (hot air blowing around) and a big stirring paddle to make potatoes crispy on all sides.

Think of it as a hot version of an ice cream maker.

Now maybe T-fal's ActiFry works, and maybe it doesn't (just glancing at their site, this method of frying doesn't fare so well for, say, chicken—at least according to their own photos that show drumsticks that look straight-up boiled). But by making frying healthy, not only are you spiting the gods, you're defeating the most pleasurable part of consuming that which has been born of grease: the looming danger of cardiac arrest. $300 [T-Fal via GadgetGrid via OhGizmo!]

The bot set is available for $33, won't be confused with bedroom gadgets, and is almost cute when at work:

Now, I'm certain these bots are somehow evil and will take over the world, but frankly I don't care if they spare me from any more singed tablecloths or hair. [Suck UK via Nerd Approved via Foolish Gadgets via Geeky Gadgets]

Designed by Ross McBride and named "Dolly," this concept is a combination salt-and-pepper shaker with separate chambers for each of the two flavorings. It's actually pretty clever, since you'd never have to worry about misplacing half the set. But is that comfort worth awkward glances at the dinner table? [Dezeen]

Luckily, manufacturer Rihanna is working on this $100 kitchen scale due out next year, complete with an iPod dock and 2W speaker (the speaker is hidden under the glass platform). Your iPod shows you the song while a black and white LCD displays the weights. I mean, does life get any better than this? [ADE via gizmag via UberGizmo]

Called "Coral," this concept pot is coated in thermochromic spots, highlighting sectors in the pale blue design with fiery orange and red as the pot heats. The thing is, I don't even need the Coral to change color. I'd buy the color bubble design as is (or at least, I'd consider the idea before questioning whether it would match my kitchen, future kitchen, various other pots I own, various other appliances I own, etc etc etc, along with whether or not I needed yet another thing taking up space in my kitchen cabinets—the answer of which would inevitably be "no" as I walked out of Macy's or Sur La Table or whatever, unfulfilled as a consumer but maturer as a person).

Sorry, maybe that was TMI on my kitchen-related buying habits. Just being honest. [Yanko via Unplggd]

With the push of a button, the Musical Cake (and pizza) Tray will play Happy Birthday (so you can sit in awkward silence while the plate does your job for you). But what's just as handy is that a series of LEDs illuminate around the cake's perimeter, signaling where the 12 slices should go.

Wait a second...there are supposed to be 12 slices in a cake? I thought you just cut the thing into 4 slices. You know, like pie. [Deni via GadgetGrid via OhGizmo!]

Just touch with any dry, clean part of your body to activate. Any clean body part will work. That simple. Touch to activate. Touch to deactivate. That. Is. It. Off with handles. Off with indicators. Off with any superfluous elements. Just capacitive touch built in the whole body, so you don't have to mess its metallic surface with your dirty, wet hands. And you can even detach the tip.

Geeneeus functionality, and perfect, minimalist design. Jon Ive and Dieter Rams probably have theirs already. As soon as I get $547 to throw away, I'll get mine. [Delta Faucet via Core77]

It may be that I really miss my Lego Timer, but I wouldn't mind to have this at all. So freaky funky colorful. [Flickr via The Cool Hunter via uuh.. internet]

ZERO G!!!!!!

SPICE RACK!!!!!

YOU HAVEN'T TASTED SPICE UNTIL YOU'VE TASTED IT IN ZERO G!!

ZERO G!!!!!

THE CANISTERS STICK UPSIDE DOWN!!!

ZERO G!!!

THE TASTE IS OUT OF THIS WORLD!!!!!

ZERO G!!!!

COOL!!!

ZERO G!!!

"Hey mom, this saffron just turned me into an astronaut!"

ZERO G!!!

SPICE RACK!!!

THE SPACE RACE JUST GOT A WHOLE LOT TASTIER. [Yanko Design via boing boing's Lisa Katayama, who came up with the brilliant product title]

AUGMENTED FREAKIN' REALITY!!!!!

Remember back when butter, flour and sugar were enough? Now the American appetite has grown so vast that we'll be consuming Pokémon, movie advertisements and Nascar figurines in no time. Just wait for it: A bowl of Cooler Ranch Doritos topped with Cialis coupons is just an ad campaign away. [Mike Clare and Tellart viaMAKE]

I mean, what could be more logical? Take a cooking tool that's fundamentally designed to have a large surface area for fast cooking and easy food flipping, then shrink it to unusably lilliputian proportions.

In all fairness, this $90, 6-piece mini-wok set is adorable. But if you buy it, you officially throw too many cutesy parties (because even one is one too many). Instead, save the money, dig a hole in your living room and throw a proper pig roast. Or just buy a hot pot that all of your friends can share (whatever works best for your particular value set and architectural budget). [Pro Idee via Random Good Stuff]