My weekends have adapted some sort of homage to my favorite summer memories. The food (more on the grilled/fried variety), the homemade shakes, the wholesome fun (the joys of finding perya rides in the neighborhood park!), the silly dates, and the post-drink-grubfest at your local Burger Machine.
I always wish that weekends were longer than 48 hours (or more than 54 hours if you count Friday night). But the compressed amount of time always forces you to make the most out of it. And yes, I think we’ve done a good job so far.