Today I turned thirty-three.
A few years ago, when I left Kazakhstan, I considered applying for a job as an Overland Adventure Tour truck driver on the Lima-Santiago route.
So I applied to seminary instead.
And got married.
And had a kid.
And got another one due just a couple weeks away.
“Life work” was right!
But I guess I never heard of anything worth doing that was easy. I now think overland tour operators are sissies, and miss out on all the real rewards in life. Most of them probably never came home in the evening to find fresh-baked oatmeal raisin cookies and a note addressed to the “most gentle man in the world.”
So tonight, my honey took me out to dinner at Café Colombia in Burbank. It was good food, but the waitress addressed me in Spanish. I tried to respond, but all that came out was Portuñol. The poor waitress couldn’t figure out what to make of us, and asked if we were from France. Oui, bien sûr!