There are some who enjoy birthdays for some odd reason. My sister, for example, is one of those birthday lovers. Same with my Oma. They love their birthdays. Good for them, I say. I just don't understand it. But hey, there are lots of things in that category.
I suppose that I'm feeling a little bit philosophical as well. Age will do that to you, they say. It's not that I'm getting "old" by any standard other than my own, but there's a certain kind of, I don't know, let-down, I suppose when I wake up and realize that as of today, my mid-20's have officially passed me by. Oh, I'm sure that I could stretch my mid-20's out until I'm 28, but I think they stop at 27. It's the end of an era. Guess it's time to grow up now. Ha.
It's not that I've been a total slob. I have a beautiful wife and child who love me more than I deserve; I have a great family of origin and in-law family; I have a good group of solid friends; I have all you faithful blog readers. And yet, I find it hard not to focus on the things I haven't done. Does that happen to you, too? It's just that there were all these things that I thought I'd do before I hit a certain age, and when I look back, I haven't really accomplished them. For example, here I am, now officially out of my mid-20's, and I still haven't got my bachelor's degree. Maybe that's why I'm a poor goal-setter--I just don't know what goals to set, and I take it too hard when the ones I set aren't achieved, even if they were rather pie-in-the-sky to begin with.
Wow, that sure was depressing. I hope you haven't all collapsed in a heap of tears and unrealized dreams. Let's move on before this gets worse.
Had a new adventure today, but it requires a small back-story. Coming from BC, I take certain things for granted, like the curbside recycling pick-up. I have to constantly remind myself, though, that I come from the hippie province where things like that are to be expected; not every province has the same ideals. Here in Three Hills, for example, there is no such thing as curbside recycling pick-up. It just doesn't exist. Doesn't even exist in a big town like Airdrie (which is why our friends, the Pearsons, have set up their own recycling pick-up business). If I hadn't drunk the environmentally friendly Kool-Aid when I was a kid (we did a musical in elementary school called "The E-Team" that was all about being environmentally friendly. It included such hit songs as "Driving Miss Lazy"--a rip-roaring polemic against the too-quick-to-hop-in-the-car-for-a-short-trip generation featuring a moving solo performance by my cousin, Melissa (hi, Melissa!)--and another one, whose name escapes me at the moment, that was all about the packaging fast-food restaurants used to use--the styrofoam burger containers. Personally, I miss those mothers. Yeah, sure, they had a half-life of 900-billion years, but they were so much fun) then I'd just throw the stupid plastic bottle-liners in the trash. But no, I can't even bring myself to throw a single piece of recyclable material away because I think to myself, "Well, there's another two centimeters in the ozone hole--thanks, you selfish jerk!" I must recycle everything that I can. Even if it means having to make a separate trip (in my car, no less) to the recycling depot.
Another thing about being out here that's different from home: at home, we have three different categories of recyclables. Everything that's glass, metal, or plastic goes in the blue box. Everything that's newsprint goes in the blue bag. Everything that's paper of any other variety goes in the yellow bag. Simple. Not here. I got to the recycling depot today and I had to ask the guy how it worked. Here's the scoop. For plastics, there are three different categories: milk jugs, plastics labeled with a "2", and everything else. All must go in separate bins. For paper, there are also three categories: newsprint, glossy, and other. Oh, and cardboard is also separate, so I guess that's four (although I don't really consider cardboard a "paper product" per se; however, since I'm going with the differences in the categories and at home it goes in the yellow bag, I'll have to include it with papers or else the parallelism just disintegrates. And then what? The very moral fibre of society would be rent, that's what). Finally, your metal goes in a pit off to the side of the building, meaning you have to walk it around there. Next to the metal is the glass. So that's how many? NINE!! Nine different categories! Gosh, keep making it that hard and I will just throw something away that could otherwise be recycled, no matter what Mrs. Tinkham drilled into my impressionable little elementary school mind (yes, her name was actually Mrs. Tinkham, although I think she prefered "Ms.").
Furthermore (yes, there is more), I asked the fine gentleman where I could take my beverage containers back for deposit money. He told me where the bottle depot was, but added, "But it's only open on Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays." Okay, can you please make it a little harder to be environmentally friendly?! On top of all that, they're closed for lunch--an hour a day on the three days they're open. What, did the stress of having to work three days for eight whole hours get to you? Gah.
To finish off today, I have a couple more shots taken this weekend to show you. Yes, they are both pictures of fields. So what? There's a lot of field to photograph. Here they are...
So, that'll about do for now. As I alluded to on Theo's blog about how it's tough getting the intro of a blog entry going, I'm finding it's difficult to find ways to sign off this one. So, fare thee well, says I. See you tomorrow.
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