New podcast episode: Play-Doh isn’t food

Hi, guys. The third show of my podcast is below. Includes: my first church-ish experience; a temporary new mom; definitely not food, no place for art; dysfunctional camping; time before time; angry dad; and washing my hands in holy water.

The picture is of me, before we left our house for the first time I’d ever been to church, wearing the Intolerable Outfit I talk about on the podcast.

In this episode I reference my post That Mother o’ Mine.

You can listen, download, comment upon, and share this and the other episodes of my podcast on SoundCloud.

You can subscribe to my podcast here. Find it on iTunes here.

Thanks for listening.

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  • I enjoy your podcasts because contrary to your carefully crafted writing, they just seem to be stream of consciousness ramblings loosely kind of tied to a theme. BTW, I went to UCSC in the early 80’s, lived in Felton, and worked at Roaring Camp Narrow Guage Railroad right next to Henry Cowell Park. A beautiful place. I don’t think your idea of camping is that far off. I’m going backpacking into the High Sierras with my son in July and I plan on spending a lot of time just sitting on a rock!

  • Don Rappe

    I remember that outfit, except with knickers. How I pouted.

  • Thanks, Alan; that means a lot to me. (Felton! I lived for awhile in Boulder Creek!)

    Don: Knickers! So I had it better than I knew. Good to know.

  • mike moore

    John, I think you should embrace the outfit. Very Angus Young AC/DC. You were a true trendsetter.

    (PS – this memory lane post … I was a camp counselor at Mt Hermon. I wasn’t invited back the next summer due to the “junior high kids playing on the railroad tracks” incident, but Felton was cool.)

  • I just caught up on all of your podcasts whilst pulling up the carpeting in my living room. Good stuff…keep ’em coming!

  • Allie

    The outfit is too funny. And don’t think for a moment you were unusual as a child to be that aware of your dignity. My mom is about 20 years older than you are, and recently we were discussing a local politician, and she said “I used to play with him as a child and his mom made him wear SUNSUITS. I can’t take seriously a man I have seen in a sunsuit.” So, there’s that, at least you were born too late for sunsuits.

    My first memories of church are of St. John’s Episcopal, which has rather Byzantine, larger-than-life murals all over it. This is the one behind the altar. I was terrified of this thing as a child:

    I never washed my hands in the font, but I did LOUDLY CRUNCH the wafer at my first communion. My mother just about died.