When I was growing up, my family used to go to a cabin in Twain Harte each winter and summer with the Tutino and Miller family. My childhood was filled with a lot of estrogen. Last weekend my family returned to TH for the first time in about
13 years to go to one of the cabins that we used to go to. It was surreal to be back in the same place I spent a lot of my childhood. Much of it was smaller than I remembered but still held the memories of my adolescence, including watching Shiloh getting bitterly frustrated after realizing that she just wasted 2 hours of her 12 year old life when she found out that snipes do not in fact exist and witnessing Justin playing
with pine cones, somehow covered cheek-to-cheek in dirt and grime. Those were the days. I also recall the fact that I was roughly the same weight that I am now but about 6 inches shorter. Portly, yet charming, as I recall. My mom cried the moment she stepped in to the cabin, peering at the upstairs loft where her little squirrels and squirrelettes
(Justin, myself, and the girls) once hibernated. If you told me when I was 12 that I would be back in the same cabin 13 years later with my wife and son, I would've slapped you. Maybe even pinched you. One of the trip's highlights was taking Tate to the snow for the first time. His initial reaction was that it was cold and upon further investigation he discovering that his initial reaction was in fact correct. We bundled the little bugger up and he asked if he could sit in the snow.
Naturally, we obliged. He is continuing to bring a lot of joy and sleepless nights to our lives and we are increasingly grateful for the little guy. Upon being told that Tate is 5 months old, a gentlemen at a restaurant the other day said that he thinks Tate is humongous and will likely be a basketball player someday. I demonstrated some of my basketball prowess briefly on the sidewalk and the
gentlemen recanted his previous prediction, surmising that my genes may in fact hinder Tate's basketball abilities. However, my genes may allow Tate to one day grow a beard like Baron Davis. Sorry for the tangent. Enjoy the pictures:
When I was growing up, my family used to go to a cabin in Twain Harte each winter and summer with the Tutino and Miller family. My childhood was filled with a lot of estrogen. Last weekend my family returned to TH for the first time in about
13 years to go to one of the cabins that we used to go to. It was surreal to be back in the same place I spent a lot of my childhood. Much of it was smaller than I remembered but still held the memories of my adolescence, including watching Shiloh getting bitterly frustrated after realizing that she just wasted 2 hours of her 12 year old life when she found out that snipes do not in fact exist and witnessing Justin playing
with pine cones, somehow covered cheek-to-cheek in dirt and grime. Those were the days. I also recall the fact that I was roughly the same weight that I am now but about 6 inches shorter. Portly, yet charming, as I recall. My mom cried the moment she stepped in to the cabin, peering at the upstairs loft where her little squirrels and squirrelettes
(Justin, myself, and the girls) once hibernated. If you told me when I was 12 that I would be back in the same cabin 13 years later with my wife and son, I would've slapped you. Maybe even pinched you. One of the trip's highlights was taking Tate to the snow for the first time. His initial reaction was that it was cold and upon further investigation he discovering that his initial reaction was in fact correct. We bundled the little bugger up and he asked if he could sit in the snow.
Naturally, we obliged. He is continuing to bring a lot of joy and sleepless nights to our lives and we are increasingly grateful for the little guy. Upon being told that Tate is 5 months old, a gentlemen at a restaurant the other day said that he thinks Tate is humongous and will likely be a basketball player someday. I demonstrated some of my basketball prowess briefly on the sidewalk and the
gentlemen recanted his previous prediction, surmising that my genes may in fact hinder Tate's basketball abilities. However, my genes may allow Tate to one day grow a beard like Baron Davis. Sorry for the tangent. Enjoy the pictures:
2 comments:
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tate may be my favorite baby right now. twain harte is beautiful. if you look under the leaves there in the right time of year there are thousands of lady bugs. i am not kidding.
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