Friday was the last day of work for my co-workers with seasonal contracts, as well as for our beloved interns. Of course we had to celebrate the work that we accomplished together. "Work hard. Play hard." That's what I say.
We are not a solemn group.
Fierce? Definitely! Hard working? You know it! But we never fall into the trap of taking ourselves too seriously.
Even though we were at a brew-pub, Robb brought gift-beer for everyone.*
I had arranged to meet up with a fellow letterboxer and blog-reader who was in town for a carillon conference. Jen and I had met at a party in Ithaca a few summers back, and she has written some really sweet comments on the blog. Jen and her friends arrived at the bar about the time that the Berkeley Rep crew were heading out. So Robb, Sheri and I moved to a clean table, and the fun started all over again.
And here's where things got strange. Ashley (who is props master at Berkeley Rep, and one of the people who kept me sane when Robb was in the hospital, and also one of my friends from Baltimore) arrived some time later.
She and Jen sort of stared at each other, and then Jen asked, "Don't I know you? Weren't you in my dorm at Cornell?" Ashley had thought, "Oh, this person looks so much like someone I went to college with," but assumed it was pretty unlikely that I would be entertaining one of her former class mates.
As it turns out, Ashley was in a dance that Jen choreographed after Jen had a traumatic fall and broke her back.
How small a world is that?**
* Total beer nerd humor: Is bringing your own home brew to the brew-pub something like bringing Kolsch to Newcastle?
** Just last weekend, Ashley had two house guests. One was a friend of hers, an one was a friend-of-that-friend. When she answered the door, they realized that they knew each other. It eventually came out that they had both been guests at Sten and Rebecca's wedding, that they had both worked at the Denver Center for the Performing Arts at totally different times, and that they both knew me.