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:
In college I attempted to take 1 summer school class. I dropped it. I hated summer school. I have had two interviews for Fall teaching jobs and have been unsuccessful so far.
They said something about not wanting to hire someone who showed up in a wife-beater and cleaned their teeth with a buck knife during the interview. To each their own. Anyway, I got a call from Castro Valley High School the other day to interview for a summer school teaching position. The interview went really well. The Principal told me she interview other people as well and that she would be calling me later that day to let me know if I got the position. She then left the room to grab something.
When she returned she said that she had made a decision and that she wanted me to have the job. I will be teaching Freshman English. I have complete control over the curriculum and can essentially do whatever I want with the students. It should be a fun experience and I will be done by noon each day, which will be nice. The bummer is that I will miss the mission trip for the first time in 10 years (11 straight trips I have attended).
I trust that God has a reason for me staying home and the Rez will be ok without me. I finished school last Tuesday, meaning I now technically have my Master's Degree and Teaching Credential. I am so glad to be done with school. 20 straight years of education will kill a guy, if not make him smarter. Last night we had our summer kickoff for the middle school ministry.
We met at the Pleau's and rented a bouncy house. It was funny. We had more students than we have ever had on a Wednesday night during my time as the MSM leader. It has been really encouraging to see the ministry grow, not even so much in size, but in the maturing and realness of the student's faith.
This is a great group of students and I am blessed to play a role in their lives. The leadership team is pretty studly as well, which makes my job a lot easier.
