No accomplishment can compare to that of a Saturday well spent.
Saturdays, I put aside all books and assignments, forget to-do lists, and banish learning and all other scholarly activities. Those are all things to worry about some other time…like Sunday. I had a fantastic Saturday, so, readers, join me as I take a walk down memory lane remembering all the wonderful times I had less than 48 hours ago. Ah, yes, the good ol’ days.
If I’m not on campus, I’m usually visiting downtown Boise. But once in a while, a weekend outing will keep me closer to the College. Such was last weekend, which found me in nearby Nampa and Marsing. I was on the hunt for two things: a pumpkin, and some pie.
This week, I made the tearful decision that me and my Netflix account needed to take a break (he was getting waaaaaayyyyy too clingy). Finding myself suddenly without my go-to entertainment venue, I needed to branch out. I decided to embrace my inner high-society aristocrat and partake in one of life’s richer, finer activities. I dressed in my finest shawls, packed my comically sized binoculars, and asked the driver to saddle up my best horse, for I, ladies and gentlemen, was off to the theatre.
Last year, as a lowly freshman, I found myself on a Friday night sitting around a table in the caf with my floor. Searching around for something to do one girl mentioned a “Hippie Fair” in Boise. So we decided to go. It turned out to be the Hyde Park Street Fair, and we all had a great time eating ice cream and getting airbrush tattoos.
August is a month that I usually hate. It’s too hot, the novelty of sleeping in till 10 is gone, and I’ve temporarily exhausted my ability to read for hours at a time. Add an eagerness for school to resume to that mix, and you can see why August is normally a bad month for me.
There is a reason they call it ‘the dog days of summer.’ It’s so hot here in Idaho, my neighbor began suffering from mild hallucinations that he was a border collie named Trixie who likes long walks on the beach and chasing the mailman.
Friday night found me in downtown Boise at the city-sponsored Sesqui-shop. “Sesqui” is short for Sesquicentennial, and I’m thankful to the City of Boise for abbreviating that mouthful of a word. This year marks Boise’s 150th anniversary, and Boise’s Arts and History Department is putting on a year long party, with parts of it held in the Sesqui-shop.