Hermanos, Herman's Hermits

Thursday night I went to the church on the hill for my first Hispanic pick-up soccer game. Most of them are Christian brothers, and they play every Thursday. Translation: I plan to play every Thursday, too. Sporting, I could actually keep up, especially on defense. Keeping up with the language, however, was a different story.

Friday (last) night Peter, Katie, Trent, and I drove over the hill in Trent's car and met the girls at the Boardwalk. We saw Herman's Hermits live on the beach. I am certain it was lacklustre compared to the original phenomenon, but at least it was actually Herman, still doing his thing. ("Baby, baby, can't you hear my heart beat?") Proceeding to Seabright beach by 9, Peter and I built a fire, and we roasted the hot dogs and s'mores the Callahan girls had brought. I tried to keep Beck's guitar in tune. My clothes smell like smoke. Late summer should always be this good.

St. John, Halo, St. Paul, & the readvent de las chicas

Friday night I taught the college group. We went through John 19:1-16, which is the second half of the account of Jesus' interaction, during his trial, with Roman proconsul Pilate. We talked about how not to end up like the Jews, who waited for a Messiah and then missed Him because they were pissed off, or like Pilate, who didn't choose Christ for fear of personal loss. It was good.

Saturday, in a rare display, the fellows from Grace Bible Chapel and Hillview Bible Chapel got together and played Halo. All day.

Sunday morning, I taught from II Corinthians 2:17 and 3:1-3, discussing how to be an authentic Christian. We decided that unless Christ personally has his hand in it, having a good attitude or good actions are never going to lend us the authenticity we need. If your Christianity is someone else's recommendation letter, and you're just the paper, and God's both the author and the ink, then the more interaction with him, the better.

At noon the girls came back from Mexico. They built a house there. They were all covered in paint, and scrapes from a lathe they had been using. They were complaining of getting insulation all over themselves. I could relate. Last night some of the crowd from Fairhaven (San Leandro) came down to San Jose to play soccer and hang out at my place. It was a blast.

To This Date

Spanish—6/19/6, Monday—I am in a Spanish 4 class on the quarter system, at DeAnza College. This is the rough equivalent of Spanish 3 on the semester system. The final is this Wednesday; Spanish 5 begins with the advent of July. Tonight we studied subjunctive clauses for the thousandth time, and heard presentations about Brazil and Salvador Dali, among other things.

Father's Day Soccer—6/18/6, Sunday— Pete and I took Dad to buy soccer gear. He was happy as a clam, with new cleats, shorts, a jersey and everything. It was fun, especially when he got to donn it all for the inter-church soccer game the same evening. Awesome.

The Buddhist Monk Look—6/14/6, Wednesday—In a coup over our steady office boringness, I convinced my coworker (and comrade in harmless office shenanigans) Christina to go with her urge to switch her naturally blonde hair to dark brunette. She, in turn, encouraged me to change my look. Well, I HAD been thinking of shaving my head. I have thought about it for some time, but I particularly feel lately that I have no one to impress, so off it went. I now shave my head with a razor daily. Tanning is slow.

My First Full Sermon—6/11/6, Sunday—The topic: I was assigned Acts 18:1-11, to continue our church's Acts series. I spoke about Paul's retail job, and waiting for God, waiting for direction. I incorporated a section of Lamentations 3, talking about waiting for lovingkindness, hope, and purpose. If you want a copy just ask.

Major League Ballpark—6/8/6, Thursday—My birthday, but we observed Dad's, which had been 5/30, by redeeming his birthday present: Giants baseball tickets. Los Gigantes won, which was nice. After a lifetime rooting for this team, this was the first game I ever had the opportunity to attend. There are a lot of attractive girls at baseball games. Most of them seem to be suffering from a lack of substance, or something. Boring, pretty girls.