Navigation has never been my strong suit. Among all my friends and family, I'm the last person you ask for directions or looking at maps. I'm notorious for ending up at Point F when I'd rather be at Point B--I'm still reminded by a few close friends of mine of the time I ended up at the Boise airport in an attempt to return home after Christmas shopping. Freeways and street names just confuse me, and I'm not ashamed at all to say that without my GPS, I'd likely end up in Canada somehow.
I've lost count of how many times I've been mistaken for a music major because of how much time I devote to the various choirs found on campus. I suppose I can't blame them, seeing as I'm literally in every single choir the college offers, measuring out to at least one hour of rehearsals every Monday through Friday. That's a lot of free time to anything, let alone something completely outside your major.
Last week, my family and I packed up the car and headed west for a family vacation. We drove to the Oregon coast, passing good old Caldwell in route. Considering how vast the U.S. is Idaho—or at least the Treasure Valley—is located far enough away from the coast to make a road trip feasible, but still tiring. This time around, we actually drove down the length of the Oregon coast to the very southern end of Oregon so that we could make forays into Northern California’s redwood forests.