Scene: Laden with heavy bags full of protein bars and fitness gear, Sarah is walking home from the fitness conference after a very long and physically and mentally demanding day. She is talking to Aaron on her cell phone.

Aaron: Have you eaten?

Sarah: No. There were snacks at the Zumba party, but the crowd around them was insane.

Aaron: OK. I’ll put food in the oven.

Sarah: There was a line-up for guacamole, and I was like “What is this, Maoist China?”

Aaron: Yeah, I think you need to come home now.


Today, at the beginning of my final day of level one yoga instructor training (I’m a fitness instructor. Have I ever mentioned that on this blog before?) we formed a share circle (seriously) and we were all encouraged to share something personal about ourselves and our training.

I decided to talk about my experience with autism and the impact that mind/body exercise has had on my life. I had planned on making a short, matter of fact statement on the matter, and then passing the mike to my share circle neighbour, but I wound up getting swept up in the share circle spirit and found myself in the middle of a somewhat rambling but impassioned speech about my belief in mind/body training for people on the spectrum.

I told everybody, with an increasingly shaky voice, that I had autism. Then I launched into a mess of stuff about Pilates, developing my own mind/body connection, the importance of the right language in Pilates and yoga, and how powerful a cue like “listen to your body” can be to a population who is constantly defined by phrases like “living in your own head” and “trapped in your body.” I don’t even know if I was just nervous or on the verge of tears, but whatever was going on, I was really feeling this share circle business.

And then a puppy ran into the room.


I am not making this shit up.

A tiny puppy ran into the middle of the share circle, everybody cooed, and that was the end of the maybe-crying autistic girl’s lovely story.

Now, one of Aaron’s nicknames for me is Doolittle. I love animals, even that sweet little niblet that stole my thunder.

But there was a moment where I couldn’t help but think “Fuck the puppy! Where’s my brave choice feel good ribbon?”

Scene: Aaron and Sarah are walking through Ontario Place, on the way home from the Foreigner/Journey show.

A: Remember when there was a boat here?

S: You mean the HMCS Haida?

A: I take it you visited it?

S: Visited it, bought the souvenir captain’s hat and wore it around like it was a normal hat. It’s in Hamilton now. They moved it about ten years ago, and I think they had to dry dock it and repair the hull, and then moved it to a museum of some sort.

A: Oh.

S: I bet you weren’t expecting that answer.

A: Actually, I kind of was.


August 8, 2011

My life is weirdly busy right now. Take tomorrow’s schedule, for example:

– wake up

– run

-complete research for an interview

– interview the lead singer of a Grammy-nominated band about his solo project

– teach a private Pilates lesson

– teach a spin class

– go see Foreigner

That’s a lot of weird and disparate shit being thrown into one day. And while most of my days are not nearly as pseudo-glamorous, they are mostly packed with too much stuff and a whole lotta new patterns to get used to.

I’m a bit overwhelmed, and my writing has suffered. I have a lot of point-form notes for new posts, but leaving them alone has yet to inspire those notes to turn themselves into stories.

The one thing that I did do was go and get myself an e-mail address for this site, because it seems that at least one person has been doing some mad Googling to try to find one. So here you go:

E-mail me! You probably won’t hear back right away, because my brain is fried, but I would still love to hear from you.

And if you’re really itching for new material from me, you can always head on over to Risky Fuel, the new life/ pop culture blog I started with my husband and check out my first post about my wasted life on the periphery of the Canadian music industry: The Pains of Being Change of Heart.

Why Other People Blog

August 2, 2011

For another perspective on the importance of the internet and blogging for the socially awkward, I highly recommend Dan Harmon’s latest post.

Harmon, for those who don’t know, is the creator and executive producer of Community, the brilliant comedy about to enter its third season on NBC. Community is currently my favourite show on TV, thanks to its sometimes bizarre but always wonderful mix of meta commentary, pop culture references, general absurdity and genuine emotion. It also features my favourite potential Aspie in the history of television: Abed Nadir.

Besides a throw-away insult in the pilot episode, Abed has never officially been labeled as someone with Asperger’s, and Harmon prefers to keep it that way (see the second page of this article for his thoughts on the matter). But the compassionate, thoughtful and hilarious ways that Abed’s issues and personality have been discussed and dealt with over the course of the past two seasons give me the impression that Harmon or one of his writers definitely has some understanding or appreciation of what life can be like for people like me.