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.
My junior year is looking a lot closer this side of July, and it's becoming increasingly obvious that summer vacation is now on a time limit. In some ways, this is similar to my days playing in chess tournaments as a middle schooler--a friend and I will be playing a nice, slow-paced game, thinking hard about our next moves, when suddenly a tall, graying man in a suit slaps a clock on your right side, reminding you that you don't have all day and that you better make the most of what you have left.
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.
The other day, I got a text from a school acquaintance asking after my fall schedule. I replied, and the inquirer made the discovery I think she wanted to find, namely that she and I would likely be in the same literature seminar. She was enthusiastic about the commonality because I think she had been worried about where to sit. Or more accurately, who to sit with.
The majority of my summer to date has not been spent on exciting trips to foreign lands, spontaneous adventures with a bunch of my closest friends, or even being as lazy as possible. I would absolutely love to do all of those things, of course, but the fact remains that life is a pretty expensive adventure by itself. It's the never ending cycle of financial responsibility--you need money to do stuff, and you must do stuff to get money.
I checked the weather for Caldwell the other day, and I have to say that I am glad to be kicking it in 80 degree weather in my home state of Oregon rather than in the triple digits. Luckily, the desert will be getting just about managable for a rainforest inhabitant like myself by the time school rolls around.
At first glance, McCall, Idaho seems like your average resort town; beautiful beaches, eclectic shops, and some of the best ice cream this side of the Mississippi River (unproven, but I’m pretty sure that’s accurate). But, as I learned while vacationing there last week, McCall might also be home to Idaho’s best kept secret. You see, below the glimmering surface of the lake lies something…mysterious, which has puzzled residents of the picturesque town for decades and had me embracing my inner Nancy Drew as I endeavored to discover the truth behind Sharlie, the monster of Payette Lake.