They put in this great addition to the water fountain at one of our local parks.
Who hasn’t awkwardly tried to tip a bottle just so to fill it at a water fountain? I love having a better way available at one of our regular haunts. I also like that it has a counter indicating how many disposable water bottles were not needed because of it. Very encouraging.
I’ve been good about bringing water bottles with us since I stopped drinking soda last year. I’m sure this one change has saved our family budget hundreds of dollars (if not more), as well as creating less waste and being a healthier choice.
My daughter informed me today that a plastic water bottle can only be recycled once, because it is recycled into a lower grade plastic. (She is always reading, learning, and sharing.) I used to imagine that bottles and cans could be melted down and reformed over and over again. Knowing that’s not the case, at least for water bottles, will make me even more mindful of packing a water bottle (or three or four) when we head out the door.
I appreciate these small conveniences that will encourage us and others to bring a bottle from home.
When I was younger, much younger, I thought about the future and how OLD I would be at different points in life. For example, in high school, the idea of being in my 30s sounded extremely old. I don’t know exactly what I was expecting to feel like in my 30s, but I sure thought there would be some discernible change to let me know that I had become old.
This idea of getting older has crossed my mind a few times over the last several months. What initially brought it on was spotting my first gray hair last November (and that is fodder for a post in and of itself). I did not anticipate this particular rite of passage yet. I thought I had at least ten, if not twenty, years before that marker of age came along. It was not to be. The gray hairs have begun to sprout much sooner than I expected. My husband could confirm that I was deeply disturbed, and a little bit obsessed, for a while. In the following months, I have gotten used to it and don’t give it much thought anymore.
The other event that brought my age to the forefront of my mind was my high school reunion. I attended my 20 YEAR reunion last weekend. (If anyone can tell me how this happened, please do. I cannot believe it has been that long.) At any rate, it made me think a little more about the things I believed back then, including how OLD I thought I would be at this point.
Funny thing is, I don’t feel old.
I began to ask myself what age did I think I would be when I finally did start to feel old. The best answer I could come up with was this: No matter my age, I just feel like me.
Like I said, perhaps it should have been obvious.
I’m happy to announce that my teenaged self was mistaken. It turns out that 38 is not old. Who knew?
I look forward to all these years of “just me” that lay in front of me.