On Summer (Or, That Time I Grossed Everyone Out With All of the Feelings)

Warning: This post is full of a ridiculous amount of feelings. Utterly sincere feelings, but still. Sorry. But not really, because I still did it.

I've been with my company for fifteen years.

"But CDog, you're 26. You've said so. A bunch. Pretty sure."

Very astute, dear reader. Here's a little backstory.

I work for a non-profit musical theatre company for kids. Back in my youth, I spent two years as a camper at one of their summer sessions. I worked for them every summer after that, starting as a volunteer and rising through the ranks before assuming my current position as office manager/writer/drama teacher.

So. I've been with my company for fifteen years - more than half my life - and that's the kind of thing that lends itself to wild nostalgia almost every day. A couple weeks ago, I was at the wedding of a friend who was once my camp counselor. I met the girl who would become my best friend at my first employee training day. Some of the first kids I taught just graduated from college. Kids who were the youngest when I was in my early teens are now my coworkers in the summer.

It's a funny thing, when the quiet wee six year-old who used to tug on your shirt to ask you a question is suddenly your height and teaching alongside you.  You feel old, even though you know that you are not, but they're talking about SAT scores and college applications and weren't they just eight years-old yesterday and I guess it was nine years ago that you were thinking about the same things not, "a couple," like you've been telling yourself.

It's gross, and it's jarring, and it's awesome. I've gone to a lot of high school shows over the years to support my friends and former students, and I totally get the parents who slap, "My Kid Is A (Insert Accomplishment Here)," bumper stickers all over their lives, because all I want to do is stand in the lobby after, pointing at headshots and shouting, "I know them! Did you see what they just did? Aren't you proud?"

Because I am. That's what really hit me as I sat in the theatre of a high school I didn't go to last spring, waiting for the lights to go down for a musical I was seeing for an unprecedented second time: I am so, so proud. I'm proud to know all of the people I have met through what I do - older, younger, and everything in between. I'm proud of the people they are, the people they're choosing to become, and of the fact that I get to count them as friends.

I say I've been with my company for fifteen years, and technically that's true - I never stopped contributing in some capacity. However, there were two summers where I did not work because I was at my Grown-Up Job - the one I didn't really want but reality (particularly the need for health insurance) was forcing me to keep. As bad as things felt sitting at that desk during the year, it was a thousand times worse during those summer months, knowing that just across the bridge there was magic happening and that I couldn't be a part of it. I couldn't even visit. I lied to my office manager to get time off so I could at least go to the performances, passing them off as family functions.

There is no justification for my dishonesty - I don't encourage it. But you know what? I was going to see people I'd grown up with, and watched grow up. People who had seen me at my best and my worst and never judged me, never failed to have my back. People who have helped shape me and who still manage to make me better.

Sounds like family to me.

To every camper, coworker, friend, family member: All these words didn't really do it justice, but I am so, so happy to know you.

- CDog

On The JV Club, Episode 49 (Or, That Time I Sort of Threw a Birthday Party for a Podcast)

It's a dark and rainy day here in CDogland and I am in bed with a gnarly cold, so let's take a journey back in time about two weeks to another rainy day when I was mobile and not forced to breathe almost exclusively through my mouth.

As I'm sure I've mentioned before, I am very pro-podcast. Listening to them has expanded my world on all sorts of levels, be it by introducing me to new performers, informing me about events, or even just helping me think about things in new ways.

Two of my friends - Jennie and Natalie - recently mentioned that they'd like to get into some podcasts, but that the idea of just sitting and listening was unappealing. Always one to embrace a theme, I suggested that we start having podcast parties. We're crafty people (knitting, crocheting, baking, soldering - there aren't many DIY projects we wouldn't attempt at least once), so I figured why not pair creating with listening? And, on top of that, why not share what goes into each event with you?

The day of our first as-yet-unnamed gathering happened to fall on the one year anniversary of The JV Club podcast, so it seemed particularly appropriate to start there. Hosted by Janet Varney, the basic premise of The JV Club is that guest and host alike talk their way from adolescence to adulthood. It's a part of the Nerdist network of podcasts, and I found my way to it through them and through being a fan of Janet, who is one of the three co-founders of SF Sketchfest and voices the lead on The Legend of Korra, among other things.

Of my mainstay podcasts, I can say without hesitation that The JV Club is my favorite. Listening to it has made me laugh, made me cry, made me cringe - sometimes all within the span of one episode. It gave me the courage to throw this post out into the universe. No matter what else is going on, the hour and change that I spend plugged in feels like a safe time to listen and learn and let go.

So yes, it was a good place to start. As it was a Thursday, we met up in the evening after being released from our respective work environments. Nat and Jennie have been working on adding crocheting to their skill set, but opted to knit that night, having not quite mastered the former. I, naturally, had completely forgotten how to knit, so I offered to make dinner. On the menu: lentil soup and Mean Girl bars. Both happen to be gluten free, which I am not. I am, however, a vegan, and the twain often meet. Do know that I'll always mention whether anything I post is GF or not, and that any ingredient I mention is vegan, so I probably won't add the extra qualifier when listing it.

We listened to episode 49, which was recorded live at Sketchfest with Tig Notaro in February. I was in the audience, and being there sort of changed my life (note: if you know me, be aware that this is one of those times when I'm being completely serious about something legitimately changing my life and not like the time I saw From Justin to Kelly). I'd seen Jennie and Nat the day after for our Not-Quite-a-Super-Bowl-More-of-a-Showtune-Singing Party and couldn't shut up about it, so they were curious and I was ready to share. I prefaced the episode with Live, the recording of Tig's legendary Largo set, which will be the best $5 you ever spent, so hit that link and go get it now.

Heavy stuff gets tackled point blank, both in the episode and on the album, and maybe one of the greatest gifts of it all revealed itself when we paused to eat: we talked. Just straight up talked about what we'd heard so far and how we felt about it, and that kind of segued into us just talking about our own lives. These are people that I'm very close to, that I've known for most of my life, but sometimes it's hard to really dig in and go for it. It was nice.

We wrapped the evening with a very important first for me: I made a friendship bracelet. 26 years of living, and I'd never done it before. So, under Jennie's gentle tutelage ("Here's what you do. I'll turn away so I'm not watching and making you uncomfortable..."), I created what I'm sure will be the first of many bracelets, in the podcast's colors.

A successful first venture, and my friends are already on board for more (Jennie: "CDog, we want to have a podcast party where we make tea and scones and sit outside. Do you have an episode of something for that?").

Pics and recipes after the jump.