I’ve been trying to stay hydrated.
And as a quick aside, when did we start using the word “hydrated”?
This is what happens when Marketing gets a hold of the language.
But enough – we’ll discuss benchmarking at our next meeting.
Drinking water has never been easy for me. And milk? No. Unless it comes with chocolate, ice cream, and malt, I don’t “do” milk. The boy in my kindergarten class that required his milk warm put me off it for the rest of my life.
The smell of warm milk still makes me want to take a nap on a small rug.
I’m not the only one. My parents are water-resistant as well – my father refuses to bathe until the Vikings win the Super Bowl.
OK. That’s not true. Dad bathes once a week whether he needs it or not.
So how does one reconcile this personal aversion to water with the scads of humans now roaming the streets clutching plastic water bottles?
And do I have to?
Look, I know it’s good for me. I know it’s good for my skin, for my organs, for the water-bottling industry. I know all of this.
But left to my own devices, it’s quite possible that the only water I’ll drink during a day is what falls down my throat while I’m brushing my teeth.
I’ve been working on this for a good 10 years now, this awareness that I should be drinking water, after once sitting, Texas lakeside, in temperatures well above 100 degrees. After I stopped making sense to the people around me – and go ahead, I realize that’s a big ol' softball I just pitched right down the middle – someone pinched the skin on my hand. When it stayed “pinched”, someone else started yelling at someone else “who’s watching the Yankee?”; and I was placed in an air-conditioned car with several large bottles of water.
You’d think that would teach me.
But you’d be wrong.
Me and water still have an on-again-off-again relationship.
As my Dad says, “You can tell a member of our family, but you can’t tell ‘em much.”
Winter mornings and pottery
3 hours ago