...and Then a Hockey Game Broke Out - (from last season)

Previously posted from March of last year, and the team has since moved on, but since "my" team is eeking it out in the playoffs - that's putting it nicely, as they are losing - I thought it would be fun to share this again (with minor edits). Personally, I'm not a fan of football (either American or otherwise), but I love hockey. Go figure. Enjoy! 

When my husband and I were younger, hockey was part of (our dating) life. Overpriced pretzels and minor league matches made up any given Friday night.

Then, like most couples, we started a family, and all that changed. Sure, we brought our daughter from time to time. But as she grew, so did her sensitivity to darkness and unpredictable sounds that come with any given game. Autism doesn't like "sensory soup", so hockey switched from season tickets in the cheap seats to finding a not so cheap babysitter for date night. (Then hoping our daughter wouldn't wear her out!)

In short, trying to go to a game together not only became a hassle, it became a guys night out.

Which is great, if you are the guy in the relationship...

As life always does, time flew by, finding us in another state, with a grandmother-turned-sitter encouraging us to pick that old friend back up. But after a few years away from the game, here we were, headed toward seats five rows up from the ice. It felt good.

Despite the fact it was "bring your dog day".

To hockey. Indoor hockey. Where it gets dark and loud. And there aren't any fire hydrants, if you follow.

And then intermission hit.

The ticket prices were much higher than I expected, especially for such a low level of hockey, but we sure were entertained. On the ice were a troupe of girls with more material in their boots than on the rest of them.

That's right, boots on ice. Then they danced...

…to, "Who Let the Dogs Out."

But that's not where it ended. Oh, no. We were just warming up. There was a dog race (on the ice), a blimp dropping papers, pucks to throw onto the ice from anywhere in the stands (which means, "Duck and cover!" for those of us sitting near the glass), flashing lights all over the place, all of which mesmerized the crowd more than any of the players did. It felt like the crowd was bribed to stay for the game.

A game that most of them seemed uninterested in.

And then there were the cheerleaders.

At hockey.

Cheerleaders. Standing off to the side of the stands, now in long-sleeved half shirts. (Apparently, they discovered it gets cold watching hockey.) Shaking pom-poms behind the Plexiglas, where no one could possibly hear them.

(When did I miss the memo that my daughter could strive to be a hockey cheer-dancer-leader?)

Somewhere, in the middle of all this, there was hockey. Ice scratched up by skates, checking into the boards, the thud of puck after puck hitting goalie pads, icing, 5 minute majors. Hockey. Pure hockey. And "our" team won.

But I'd be lying to say I don't miss higher level hockey. I'm pretty sure it does not come with as many bells and whistles.

Or dogs.

Or pom-poms.

The old joke goes, "I went to a fight, then a hockey game broke out." Well, we didn't see a fight until the end of the third. That's how off the scale of normal yesterday was.

So we wound the date up by doing the obvious.

We went to the local furniture store, and ate dinner.

My Blog, Your Voice, Your Choice

Anyone who knows anything about me knows that I have an affinity for words. And I use them. Lots of them, all crammed together, spoken or in print. And many of you are kind enough to listen to them, to read them.

As I write in Asperger's in Pink, life consists of more than school, meetings and doctor visits. And this blog tends to reflect that, focusing on anything from Asperger's, to my studio, to that vegan-ish journey I've somehow landed on. In other words, my blog will never focus on just one topic. But sometimes an assortment of topics looks more like a jumbled closet than a tempting box of fine chocolates. (And everyone who knows me knows I'll take chocolates any and everyday!)

With that thought in mind, I'd love to know what you want to see here. What you would like to read more (or less) of. Which "chocolates" you'd like to see in this "box". More on Asperger's? Lighter on others? Add a new topic, such as a featured guest here and there?

To make it easy, I've positioned a poll up top ^  to the right --->. Can you see it? A few have told me it's been hard to find. But it's there. I'd love it if you would take a moment and do the talking. Let me know what you'd like to read, and I'll do my best to make it happen.

And if you've already voted? Thanks so much!

And thanks for stopping by. All this talking about chocolates is making me crave some. Drat.

Have a great week!

~Julie

On Christmas and Holiday Newsletters

It’s that time of year again. And even with the changes from paper holiday cards to ecards, one constant remains. The newsletter.

Or should I say... “The Longwinded Personal Diaries Released En Masse in December”?

Years back, we had a designated letter writer for my extended family. Part news, part cringe, 100% mimeographed. After all, nothing screams Christmas like faded purple ink on white paper. But being a kid, not only did I have the bliss of not having to read it – I didn’t even have to pretend to know what was in it!

Ah, those were the days…

But now, I’m an adult. At least that’s what the calendar says. And my husband and I get the honor of lugging them from the mailbox, into the house, directly to the “library.” I mean, really, if every kid on the planet made the Dean’s list, then we probably wouldn’t be in the economic position we’re in now, would we? And about the 4,682 bags of leaves sitting on the curb... Talking about gripping statistics!

Or is it “griping statistics”?

Now, don’t get me wrong, there are some friends whose letters we miss when they don’t write them. In fact, we pleaded one family to send theirs out this year. Why, you ask? (Oh, you didn’t ask? No problem, I’ll tell anyway.) They are hysterical. And, above all else, they are real.

I mean, who hasn’t seen a kid give her sibling’s bangs an impromptu buzz cut? Or dumped fuchsia nail polish all over the newly installed carpet?

Or the dog?

And about that word, “camp”, when 19 year-old Johnny goes there unexpectedly in March, what kind of “camp” is it, exactly? Hmm…

Ahh, the things you’d really rather read in family newsletters. Oh, the things that will never find their way to print! But, oh, how delicious they would be if they did…

Just For Fun

All blogging plans have gone to the wind this week. With Thanksgiving almost here (in the States), I don't expect much to change before the weekend, at best! So, just for fun, if you had to choose between Tofurkey and fruitcake, what would you choose?

I promise I'll share my answer if we get to 25 votes! (The poll is to the right -->)

Have a great week!