Just a thought..or two... 1. Are you ever driving around in your car between COVID tests (I had two today...I actually enjoy it...for some reason, it's like getting a tank full of gas) and ENDLESS LOVE...THE ORIGINAL, with Lionel Richie and Diana Ross...comes on, and you are so in your feels that you sing your guts out AND THEN say the following: Siri, repeat that song. ...and go AGAIN!?!? And when you wrap up your second vocal exploration of ENDLESS LOVE, feeling like you are in pretty good voice today, Whitney Houston's I WILL ALWAYS LOVE YOU starts playing? And…

The year after I moved into my first house (rental) with my ex-husband, we got a FAX MACHINE. I put the words FAX MACHINE in caps so you understand the gravity of this situation. FAX MACHINE. Yes, we are going back into the Hot Tub Time Machine, people, so put on your t-shirt under your strappy, flowery dress and slip on your wedged shoes. (Remember that?) It seemed VERY fancy to have a fax machine, and my agent at the time assured me that it would pay for itself ASAP. Sharron! THINK OF IT! There would be no more running…

I've not written in the last week and a half because, two Saturdays ago, I got the second Moderna shot, with my bubble friend Mike...and holy fuck. I told him, as we sped along the 404 towards the FreshCo.in Markham VERY early in the morning to get it (I love Vaccine Hunters, let me say THAT here, they are doing the good work that the province fucked up)... that I'm very sensitive (he already knows this) and was totally trying NOT to self fulfill ANY side effects. He said we'd be fine. WE were fine the first time...we'd be fine…

  1:45pm Today I’m driving down Gerrard Street, with a mirror in my trunk that looked way better in the picture on FaceBook Marketplace. Why didn’t I just tell the seller it wasn’t worth $60? Yes, I paid $60 for it. You wanna know WHY I didn’t say anything, WHY I just handed her the money and sprinted back to my car with the not-so-great mirror? I have to pee so bad, that I don’t have time for any extra fuckery. I’m AT LEAST 30 minutes from my home, in possession of a fifty-two year old perimenopausal bladder filled with…

Today, I arrived home from my second day of shooting on a new gig...info to follow... ...Everything in this business is so secret-ie...but, there we are... ...ANYHOW...today, after I parked my car in the underground garage, I took the elevator to the main floor and walking to the mail area, I was reminded of all the other mailboxes I had to check last year on a regular basis, before I moved into my new place. The one at my old house in Stratford. The one at my old apartment on King East. Then, at the end the year, this one...and…

I feel like a friggen broken record, but my friend Lisa, who I've been talking with about weight and the theatre ever since we were in our early twenties in Les Miserables together, sent me an article...it's at the bottom of this post...and as I read it, it hooked me BACK into the feeling I'd had the day before, when I wrote MELT OFF (the post just before this one). The article led me through my whole life in the theatre as someone who was not "perfectly" sized for casting. And, because I am 52 now, I feel like it's…

Hey Humans, First of all...thank you SO MUCH for reading along, for writing me about what you read...and subscribing to How VERY Dare She. Fuck, I love that title...like a lot...like a lot, a lot. I love this short form writing for joy...for pure joy...it is one of my longtime loves, that I let go of for a while...and I'm very happy to have it back. But sometimes the joy is in the writing...and not in the subject...kinda like today. I've been bashing the following thoughts around for a very long time... ...while sitting alone in my apartment, riding my…

Dating is not for the faint hearted. Especially when you were married for MANY years and wake up from a hundred year dating-sleep (like you ever dated in the FIRST place) and find yourself smack in the middle of a garbage fire, pandemical app world.         I really hate the dating apps. Like really, really. Like really, really…really. Hate. AND I KNOW I can’t be alone in this feeling. I mean, there is NO way I am the only one who stepped out there, after hundreds of years married and/or partnered (or other), who opened a dating…

    This picture was taken September 16th, 1970…ten days after my father died. After a horrendous car accident, he lingered in a coma for two weeks and then, mercifully by my estimation, passed. This is the kind of life event that literally is the beginning and end point in a time line, the source of many bad dreams, the topic of a lot of therapy, a lifelong trauma that attaches itself to most of your relationships…friend and otherwise. It is…it is…it is everything. No hyperbole. Even if you were only just about two years old when it occurred. Serious…

About 7 years ago now, I started working on a kid’s cabaret for the Young People’s Theatre in Toronto. When Allen MacInnis (the Artistic Director) asked me to write a cabaret for kids, I was duly flattered, but kept asking myself this: Sharron, what the fuck do YOU have to say to kids…that they would actually listen to? As you might glean from the preceding sentence, I am not a perfect match for the children…which is why Allen said I was exactly the perfect match. Imagine. When I could not seem to circle around any good ideas or experience any…