Flash (Non)Fiction: Labyrinth

February 13, 2013February 13, 2013 / Diane Henders / 19 Comments

I just got back from a week’s holiday on Vancouver Island, and I thought I’d post something a little different for a change. Thanks to Sacred Circles, Healing Hands for the inspiration of the labyrinth at the Milner Gardens and Woodland, Qualicum Beach, BC.

_________________

Labyrinth

It doesn’t fit my preconception of a labyrinth.

It’s about fifteen feet in diameter, a shallow muddy path worn into the brilliant green rainforest moss. A few stones lie in the middle.

I stand beside it, my cynical eye tracing the route from entrance to centre. It’s probably a trick; a series of dead ends to confound those foolish enough to attempt it.

But it’s simple. Around and back, a couple of reversals and a turn.

The sign says I may walk the labyrinth to meditate, experience feelings. That there’s no “wrong” way to walk.

Why bother? I already know the route and there’s nothing remarkable at the end. The concentric paths are narrowly spaced. Walking in circles would be a waste of time. I’d look like an idiot.

I stand outside the labyrinth looking in.

Imprisoned by ego. Unwilling to court ridicule. Too old for magic.

I turn to walk away.

I stop.

Turn back.

This is silly. It’s cold and cloudy and starting to rain. It’s just a patch of dirt and grass.

And yet it holds me.

When did I become so jaded?

How often have I hovered on the outside, unwilling to step forward and risk disapproval?

My boots squish softly on the wet ground as I skirt around to the labyrinth’s entrance. I mustn’t reject the established way.

Compelled to the path, I place my feet carefully within the narrow tracks, walking back and forth; around and around like a fool who can’t see that the destination is only a few feet away.

But it’s not about the destination.

I complete the final turn and stand looking down at the stones on the ground. Just a few ordinary stones. No discernible pattern. No reward.

But it’s not about a reward.

Freed, I step lightly, respectfully, straight across the labyrinth. I place my feet on its paths, but I am no longer constrained by its direction.

I stand contemplating my journey for a moment before I turn, smiling, to rejoin the world.

I Love A Guy With A Big Deck

January 16, 2013 / Diane Henders / 40 Comments

As you may know, I’m a toolaholic. Most men are eager to show me their tools, and in fact, they frequently invite me to play with their tools whenever I want.

I’m old-fashioned, though. As much as I love tools of all shapes and sizes, I really prefer not to handle any but my Hubby’s. After all, when I’ve got a top-quality tool at home, why would I go out looking for anything else? You just don’t know where other men’s tools have been.

The other day the conversation turned (again) to tools, and Hubby showed me his deck. You’d think after nearly fourteen years of marriage it would be old news to me, but what a surprise!

He had gotten one of those deck enlargement kits.

I know, I know. I used to be a sceptic, too, but now I’ve seen the proof. This kit really worked. He used to have a much smaller deck. It was nice and rigid and it worked well, but everybody knows size does matter. So he paid the money and got the kit… and now his deck is huge!

When he showed it to me for the first time, I couldn’t keep my hands off it. After I’d fondled it for a while, he asked if I had any ideas about mounting it.

Boy, did I.

But we were worried we might not be able to use his new deck safely because it’s so big.

We were right. We had some difficulties with the fit. And stability was an issue. Even though it was big and stiff, it tended to shift sideways without warning, particularly if any significant force was applied. And it was positively dangerous under vigorous use. Slow and smooth was the only workable option.

We agreed that even though the big deck was impressive, it really wasn’t working as well as his original small deck. But we both liked the idea of the bigger deck.

So we got creative. A minor surgical procedure reshaped it to make the tool fit snugly but comfortably in the aperture. Then we added some extra supports so the deck wouldn’t collapse even if I got careless about how and where I placed my piece. And he could push as hard and fast as he wanted.

It took a bit of extra effort to get everything working the way we wanted it, but in the end we were glowing with satisfaction. Now Hubby’s got the biggest deck of any guy I know. I can use it as often as I want, and it never fails to stand up to even the most enthusiastic use.

I’m so excited, I just have to share the before and after pictures of Hubby’s deck:

Original tiny deck

New huge deck

Yeah, it’s a bandsaw deck. Jeez, what did you think I was talking about?

If, like me, you can’t get enough big decks, here’s one of my favourite comedy routines: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QQ7Ue5emo6I

Anybody else like big decks?

And Then It Got Ugly

January 9, 2013 / Diane Henders / 45 Comments

I used to be able to count on spammers to tell me what a marvelous writer I am. Every day I’d get dozens of compliments about my wonderful colour schemes, my mastery of writing, and my expertise in the subject area. To the spammers, I was a demigod.

In fact, I was so good I even got compliments from beyond the grave: “You are an excellent wrteir even if I have thought your writing seems sad sometimes! I am so glad you are honest! The truth will set you free, is true! I love you and I am so blessed to be your Mom!”

Wow, thanks, Mom. I’m amazed at your mastery of the keyboard even after you’ve been dead for thirty years. Does this mean you’re coming for Sunday dinner?

Okay, so I was pretty sure that last one was from a spammer, but still. It’s flattery, right? It’s all good.

Only lately I’ve noticed a subtle and disturbing change. I mean, I still get “an amazing article dude” and “This really designed my day” and “Wow, fantastic blog fmroat!”. That’s all fine and dandy. But some of the comments are veering into ambiguity: “This blog is just as well cool to become missed”.

Um, thanks… I think…

Or how about this one: “A hilariously complex write-up”. Is “hilariously complex” a good thing or a bad thing?

But a couple of weeks ago, the comments took a turn for the worse: “My brother suggested I might like this website. He used to be entirely right.”

So what are you trying to say? He was always right before, but this time he was wrong and you hated my website?

And then it got ugly:

“I have to say that Im really unpisresmed with this. I mean, sure, youve got some very interesting points. But this blog is just really lacking in something. Maybe its content, maybe its just the design. I dont know. But its almost like you wrote this because everybodys doing it. No passion at all.”

And

“Hello, you used to write magnificent, but the last few posts have been kinda boring”

And

“of course like your website however you have to test the spelling on several of your posts. Many of them are rife with spelling problems and I to find it very troublesome”

And

“why throw away your intelligence on just posting videos to your weblog when you could be giving us something informative to read?”

Wow, what a tumble from my previous exalted position. I guess that’s just the price of fame. Sooner or later, your fans turn on you.

Spammers never fail to make me laugh. It’s fine if commenters respectfully disagree with me, but I can’t believe these idiots think I’d leave gratuitous insults posted, or (even more improbable) that I’d click on a link attached to an insult.

Isn’t spamming all about getting people to click on your links?

Repeat after me: S-T-U-P-I-D; stupid.

But despite the chuckles, I must say I’m unpisresmed with the trend. Someday it’ll be “Click on this link or we’ll send Guido and Luigi over with the baseball bats”.

The day I get that comment, I’m outta here.

Is anybody else still getting spam love? Or are the spammers turning on you, too?

End Of The World

December 21, 2012 / Diane Henders / 35 Comments

Well, dang. I’m still here. Guess I’ll have to pay those Christmas bills after all.

It’s the official day of the end of the world and so far there’s no big bang or big flush or big pffftttt or whatever. I’m a little unclear about whether the world was supposed to end last night at the stroke of midnight or tonight at the stroke of midnight, though, so maybe there’s still time.

And anyway, the Mayans weren’t specific about what time zone they were using. Maybe the end of the world will creep around the globe following the time zones. Just in case, I’m going to keep an eye on my blogging buddy AquaTom over in the UK. He’s having an End of the World blog party today, so if he goes dark, I’ll know what’s coming.

You, too, can receive this special advance warning… or just pop over and to say hi. Tom asked his readers to spread the word, so please consider this your invitation to the End of the World Party:

Come join the End Of The World party over at AquaTom Mansion

Tom suggested a few writing challenges to bring to the party, namely “The fun side to a bad hair day”, “Dashing through the snow”, and/or “The passing of time”, so here goes:

Bad Hair Day…

For me, a “bad hair day” is virtually indistinguishable from a “good hair day”. I wash it and let it dry, and it always looks more or less the same. I’m not sure whether that’s “good” or “bad”, but I’m trying to imagine what a truly “bad hair day” would be like.

I think Medusa must’ve had some seriously bad hair days. I’ve never tried to wash a snake, but I suspect they wouldn’t be cooperative. They probably wouldn’t take kindly to curlers, either. And imagine the disasters on date night. Even if she could find a guy who was smart enough not to look her in the face and turn to stone, even a simple kiss would be an exercise in frustration: “No, no! Bad, bad hair! Stop biting the nice man! Wait, come back, honey; they didn’t mean it!”

No wonder she was cranky.

* * *

Dashing Through The Snow…

When I was a teenager, I strapped on my cross-country skis one cold, clear night and dashed out across the pristine whiteness surrounding our farm. Skiing was easy across the smooth, flat fields. The moon was full and so brilliant that my shadow undulated along beside me. The squeak of snow under my skis was the only sound. It was breathtaking.

It was also stupid.

It was minus 30 degrees Celsius, and even though I’d put on my warm down jacket, I was only wearing blue jeans on my legs. You may have heard the expression “freezing one’s ass”. I did. Along with my thighs.

To this day, if the temperature dips below minus 10, I have to wear ski pants because of the damaged circulation in those areas. Not quite the delightful experience most people envision when singing “dashing through the snow”. But…

With The Passing Of Time…

I’ve forgiven my teenage stupidity, and I still enjoy the lovely memory of that bright, silent night. And hey, at the end of the world, that’s what counts, right?

Happy Apocalypse!

Bro Bulletin – Questions Of Doom: #4

November 28, 2012 / Diane Henders / 27 Comments

For the month of Movember, I’ve been supporting my Mo’ Bros by offering a few helpful insights into the female mind. This is the last of the Movember Questions of Doom series.

* * *

QOD #4: Do you like this casserole?

Getting this one wrong probably won’t kill you, but there’s still a pretty high potential for long-term misery. Possible answers:

“Yes” – I hope you really do like it, ‘cause you’re gonna get it every second week from now until doomsday.

“It’s okay, but I wouldn’t want it every year.” – This one never fails to get a laugh at our house, but don’t try it unless you’re really sure about her sense of humour. (Note: Her sense of humour may vary considerably from day to day. Better not chance it.)

“No” – You know the drill. Icy silence and/or tears and/or wild accusations of “You don’t appreciate anything I do”. And you aren’t going to be getting any for a good long time. You know I’m not talking about casserole.

Best Answer: “Wow, this is really different. Where did you get the recipe?” – Try not to gag while you say this. Pretend avid interest in the answer and immediately guide the conversation in another direction. Examples:

If she says it’s her Aunt Mary’s recipe: “How is Aunt Mary, anyway?” (Note: If the answer is “dead”, you’re in deep shit, but at least the casserole conversation is probably over.)

If she says she found it in a cookbook/magazine/online: Make sure you sound enthusiastic: “Really. Wow, you should try some of their other recipes, too. Hey, did I tell you about…”

Good luck, bro. You’re gonna need it.

And because this is the last Bro Bulletin in the Movember series, here’s a bonus QOD:

Bonus QOD: Did you make that doctor’s appointment yet?

Sorry, guys, there’s only one correct answer to this: “Yes, dear.”

* * *

Movember Moment: Guys, if you haven’t done it already, go and get your prostate checked. A few moments of discomfort are well worth the relief of knowing you’re fine; or, worst-case scenario, the sooner they find a problem, the more easily it can be dealt with.

And if you’re feeling despairing or anxious; if you’re self-destructive or you can’t control your temper, please talk to your doctor.

There’s no shame in asking for help. If you had computer problems, you wouldn’t just put up with it and hope it’d get better, and you wouldn’t feel inadequate if you couldn’t fix it yourself (and you know how badly it can turn out if you try).

Please treat yourself at least as well as you treat your computer. We Mo’ Sistas want to keep you around, happy and healthy, for a long time.

So go make that appointment.

Please? For me? *bats big brown eyes*

P.S. Thanks to Le Clown for starting Bloggers for Movember. In support of the cause, I’m donating half the November royalties from my paperback and e-book sales from all channels to the Cancer Society. Only two days left – please spread the word!

Bro Bulletin – Questions Of Doom: #3

November 21, 2012 / Diane Henders / 24 Comments

For the month of Movember, I’m supporting my Mo’ Bros by offering a few helpful insights into the female mind. Welcome to the third instalment of the Questions of Doom series.

* * *

Ah, you guys thought you were getting the hang of QODs, didn’t you? I’ve got news for you: we’ve only been dealing with easy yes-or-no QODs until now. Let’s try a tougher one: the multiple-choice QOD.

I don’t mean to support gender stereotypes here, but the truth is I don’t personally know any households where the male does the bulk of the cooking. Guys, if you do, you’ve already got this one nailed. See you next week.

QOD #3: What do you want for dinner?

A seemingly innocuous question, isn’t it? What could possibly go wrong? Watch and learn…

Bad Answer: “I don’t know, what do you want?” – This may seem like a safe response, but it’ll blow up in your face. She’ll likely echo, “I don’t know, what do you want?” Lather, rinse, repeat.

If you’re the passive-aggressive type, this may be strangely satisfying, but she’ll end up irritated, and you’ll probably end up eating something you don’t like.

Worse Answer: “I don’t care. Just cook something.” – Oooh. Ouch. If that ever heals, it’s gonna leave one hell of a mark.

Here’s what she just heard: “I don’t care (about any of your trivial problems. It’s your responsibility as the subordinate spouse to) just cook something.”

That’s why she’s screaming at you and/or slamming pots and pans around in the kitchen loudly enough to drown out the TV no matter how high you turn the volume. You’re not gonna like what she cooks tonight.

In fact, if you have any sense of self-preservation at all, you’ll surreptitiously feed it to the dog (particularly if she fixes you a “special” plate but lets the kids serve themselves out of the communal dishes).

And if you’re hoping to get lucky tonight, go buy a lottery ticket. The odds are better.

Iffy Answer: “I love your (insert food item here). Let’s have that.” – On the face of it, this sounds like the perfect answer. You figure you’re golden because you just solved the problem and complimented her cooking at the same time. You’re probably right…

Unless the food item in question is difficult and time-consuming to make and she’s exhausted, with ten minutes to get food on the table before the kids start chewing the table legs.

If she starts yelling about how inconsiderate you are, that’s why. Just hunker down and take it. It was a good try.

Safe Answer: “Hmm, how about beef? Chicken? Pork? Fish? Sausages? Omelette? Haggis? Fava beans…?” – Just keep guessing. As long as you look like you’re participating, you’re safe. It’s like soothing an angry dog – steady, calm tones and no sudden moves. If you stop, she’ll rip you apart.

It’s not about actually solving the problem here – she may or may not accept any of your suggestions. It’s about “contributing”. When she thinks you’ve contributed enough, she’ll give you that little smile and headshake that says, “Poor foolish man, you’re just so helpless without me.” Then she’ll go into the kitchen and make a nice meal. You’ll enjoy it.

No, let me be really clear about that: You WILL enjoy it.

Better Answer: “Forget cooking tonight. I’ll take you out to dinner/order in.” – Very smooth. Very smart. Hubby uses this one so frequently, I call him “The Plastic Chef”. With a credit card in his hand, the man can cook anything. This is one of the reasons why he has so many brownie points built up, I couldn’t yell at him even if I wanted to.

Best Answer EVER: “You work so hard – you deserve a break. Here, put your feet up. Here’s a nice glass of wine. You just relax while I cook you a gourmet meal and clean it all up afterward.” – Yeah, I know. It’s okay, I couldn’t keep a straight face for that one, either. But a woman can dream…

* * *

Movember Moment: Jeez, no wonder guys get freaked out about prostate exams – I can’t believe how much bullshit I found on the internet. It’s not that big a deal. Here’s what to expect.

P.S. Thanks to Le Clown for starting Bloggers for Movember. In support of the cause, I’ll donate half the November royalties from my paperback and e-book sales from all channels to the Cancer Society. Please spread the word!

Bro Bulletin – Questions Of Doom: #2

November 14, 2012 / Diane Henders / 14 Comments

For the month of Movember, I’m supporting my Mo’ Bros by offering a few helpful insights into the female mind. This is the second instalment of the Questions of Doom series.

* * *

(Note: Ladies, this strategy can work for you, too. Change the pronouns, substitute “tool” for “jewellery”, and you’re away to the races.)

QOD #2: Did you just buy yourself a new fill-in-the-blank (FITB)? *Scowls, hands on hips*

Oh, bro. Buddy. You screwed up big. You got busted holding a new FITB and she’s mad, for one of two reasons:

Money’s tight and now you won’t be able to afford groceries/coats for the kids/a family trip; or
You bought something nice for yourself and nothing for her.

If it’s #1, well, don’t be a shithead. Return the FITB and go buy coats for your kids.

But it’s probably #2. So here we go:

Bad Answer: “Yes” – Depending on her temperament, you’ll get:

No nookie for the foreseeable future; AND
Icy silence; or
Increasingly hostile questions like “How much did it cost?” and “Why do you need a new FITB when you’ve already got a perfectly good one?” etc., followed by icy silence; or
Increasingly hostile questions followed by berserk yelling and/or tears and/or flying objects, followed by icy silence.

Worse Answer: “No” – I don’t mean to be critical, but “no” is a really dumb choice. You’re standing there with a brand new FITB in your hand. The tags are still hanging off it. You know you’re lying. Worse still, she knows you’re lying, and now you’re insulting her intelligence, too. See consequences of “yes” above. Times ten.

So how do you save yourself? Okay, guys, I want to make it clear that I don’t support lying to your significant other. In the first place, it’s slimy, and in the second place, it’ll come back to bite you in the ass sooner or later.

But in the spirit of Movember, I’m going to cut you some slack, ‘cause what I’m about to suggest isn’t the blackest of lies. It’s more like a retroactive truth, if you do it right.

The following solution can make you look like a hero, but it’s complex, dangerous, expensive, and requires some acting skill. It’s probably easier to just return the FITB, or else let her chew your nuts off and get it over with.

You still want to know? Okay…

Best Answer:

Step 1: “Oh, I was hoping you wouldn’t see this until (tonight/tomorrow/whenever the stores are open next).”

You already look guilty as hell, but try to add a bit of disappointment to your expression. She knows the first part of that statement is absolutely true, but she’s slightly confused by the second part. This moment of uncertainty buys you time for:

Step 2: “I know (occasion) is coming up, so I picked out the perfect gift for you, but I didn’t want to buy it until I knew it was exactly what you wanted. And I bought this FITB for myself because you’re always saying I’m hard to buy for.”

This is the dangerous part. She’s pretty damn sure you’re lying, but the lure of “the perfect gift” is slowing her reflexes. This also assumes you’re within a month or so of some mutual gift-giving occasion.

Christmas, Valentine’s Day, and an anniversary are possibilities for the “occasion”, but if you’re desperate and imaginative, you could whip out something plausible but unverifiable. Try an obscurity like “the seventh anniversary of the first day I realized I was in love with you”.

Just remember, if you mention it once, it’s forever graven in her memory. Now you’re on the hook for another gift-giving occasion every year. How much do you really want that FITB, anyway?

That much? Seriously? Okay, then…

Step 3: Rush her to the jewellery store* and point randomly at something.

Any jewellery will do. Feign as much enthusiasm as possible, but do not utter the words ‘It’s you’. It’s not. No matter what you choose, she’ll want something different. This is just a decoy.

Step 4: “I picked this one, but I want it to be perfect, so if you’d rather have something else…”

Suck it up, buddy, ‘cause this is where it gets expensive. Grit your teeth, smile, and buy whatever she chooses. I warned you it’d probably be easier to just take your punishment.

Step 5: Buy her another gift when the actual gift-giving occasion rolls around.

This is a crucial step. It covers your ass in case she knew you were full of shit earlier but she was willing to play along because she got a nice piece of jewellery out of it.

However, if she actually bought your act earlier, this makes you a hero. When she says “I thought we exchanged FITBs earlier”, tell her, “I know, but I couldn’t resist buying you this”.

Kiss. Cuddle. Get laid. Nicely done, bro.

And next time, hide the damn FITB until you can honestly answer, “No, I’ve had it for months.”

*Note to Hubby: Don’t try this on me. Jewellery doesn’t cut it. I want tools. What, that shiny set in my trunk? No, I’ve had that for months.

Movember Moment: Okay, let’s start with the basics: What is the prostate gland and how does it work?

P.S. Thanks to Le Clown for starting Bloggers for Movember, and thanks to everyone who weighed in with support for me on the weekend. I’m feeling much better now about donating half the November royalties from my paperback and e-book sales from all channels to the Cancer Society.

Sorry I’m A Douche

November 10, 2012 / Diane Henders / 45 Comments

Earlier this week I was pretty pumped about helping with the Movember campaign. Now I just feel sick.

I was doing my rounds of the blogs when I ran across a post about sleazy book marketing tactics, and the second tactic they mentioned was donating a portion of book sales to charity.

The writer specifically targeted authors who announce a special offer on their books in support of a charity. His exact words were, “…there’s an invisible line between using your work to help a good cause, and using a good cause to sell more books.” Relenting, he did mention he thought it was okay if the author’s personal story was somehow related to the cause in question, or if it was a community effort.

I thought I was doing a good thing by advertising that I’d donate half my November book royalties to the Cancer Society. I’m part of Bloggers for Movember, and cancer looms larger in my personal story than I’d prefer, but that post still hit me like a kick in the gut.

What kind of slimy, contemptible douche would exploit a charitable cause for their own personal gain?

Is that what I’m doing?

When I read that post, I felt as if I’d just mugged a cancer patient for lunch money.

I still feel awful.

My mom died of lymphoma when I was nineteen. Anybody who’s lost a loved one to cancer knows how it ends: the naked scalp, the bruised and jaundiced skin, the stick-like limbs, the sunken eyes and distended belly. She had been a slim, attractive, athletic woman. When she died ten months after her diagnosis, she was barely recognizable.

My dad was successfully treated for prostate cancer. My aunt survived an intestinal tumour. My step-mom is just recovering from her recent (and successful) fight against breast cancer. Pretty much every year, my doc removes some bit of my skin that’s starting to look “suspicious”.

I’ve donated regularly to the Cancer Society for nearly three decades. Often it wasn’t a lot, but even when I could barely make ends meet, I usually managed to send a few dollars their way.

Exploiting Movember wasn’t my intention.

I didn’t mean to be a douche.

But I really feel like one.

😦

Bro Bulletin – Questions Of Doom: #1

November 7, 2012 / Diane Henders / 12 Comments

For the month of Movember, I’m supporting my Mo’ Bros by offering a few helpful insights into the female mind. Welcome to the Questions of Doom series.

A QOD is an unanswerable and highly dangerous question posed by your wife/significant other. I’m going to teach you how to escape some common QODs (more or less) unscathed.

* * *

Note: There are many reasons why I’ve never asked this question myself (not the least of which is that I wear a dress approximately once every five years). But trust me, guys, I can help you.

QOD #1: Does this dress make me look fat?

If you’ve ever been hit with this question, you understand the devastating consequences of the wrong answer. Hint: Both “yes” and “no” are the wrong answer.

Let’s review:

“Yes” – So, so wrong. Expect tears, anger, and possibly flying objects. Don’t expect to get laid any time in the foreseeable future. And maybe you should wear a cup. This ain’t pretty, but if you just want to get the whole thing over with, it’s definitely quick.

“No” – This is also the wrong answer. She doesn’t believe you. She argues: “Yes, it does. You’re just saying that.”

It doesn’t matter what you say at this point. Keep insisting “no”, and she still won’t believe you, you’ll get annoyed, and then she’ll call you an insensitive jerk. But switch to “yes” and you’re totally doomed. See consequences above, plus now she thinks you’re a weaselly liar into the bargain.

Best Answer: “You look hot in everything. Grrr.” – Accompany this with a kiss, and you might get away scot-free. But remember, you’re going for distraction here. A peck on the cheek isn’t gonna cut it. Just like pulling a punch, a quick lip bump is only going to piss off its recipient.

Go for the gusto. Kiss her as if you haven’t seen a woman in ten years.

In the beyond-your-wildest-dreams scenario, she says, “Grrr yourself, big fella.” Nature takes its course, and you end up too busy mattress dancing to go to the stupid event you were dressing for the in the first place. But don’t get your hopes (or anything else) up for that.

In the best case scenario, she finishes getting dressed with a smile on her face. (You didn’t really expect to get lucky at this stage, did you? She’s focused on getting dressed. But your chances are looking pretty good for some action later if you play your cards right.)

Worst case scenario, she relents and changes the question to, “But do you like the blue one or the black one better?”

Danger, Will Robinson! This is a trick question.

You probably already know that “I don’t care, just put on something and let’s go” is the wrong answer. But do not, under any circumstances, breathe a sigh of relief and choose a dress. That will start the whole process all over again.

The only correct answer is, “The (pick a dress randomly) one makes your boobs/ass/legs look amazing. Grrr.”

Repeat as needed.

You can thank me later. (But if you score, I don’t want details.)

Movember Moment: Depression is one of the most common mental health issues men face. Guys, if you think you may be depressed, see your doctor – don’t wait. The sooner you start working on it, the sooner you’ll start to feel better. Here’s a description of symptoms, risk factors, triggers, and treatments for depression in men.

Beautiful, Sunshiny, Versatile… And Lazy

May 9, 2012March 13, 2013 / Diane Henders / 31 Comments

Update: Many thanks to all those who have nominated me for various blog awards. I’ve done a couple of posts of obscure facts about myself (here’s another one). To do more posts like this would require me to go beyond “obscure” and into “too much information”, so I think I’ll quit while we’re all ahead. Here you go…

Several of my readers have been kind enough to nominate me for the Versatile Blogger award in the past few months. Many thanks to my blogging buddies, Chris9911, How The Cookie Crumbles, and RVingGirl (who unfortunately seems to have stopped blogging).

And just a couple of days ago, Fear No Weebles kindly offered me the Sunshine Award and/or the Beautiful Blogger Award. I modestly chose both. ‘Cause I like getting awards – I tuck them into my file of nice things people have said about me and take them out to enjoy them later. It’s a small file, granted, but it’s great for when I need a warm fuzzy or two.

At the time I was offered the Versatile Blogger awards, I was busy travelling back and forth to Manitoba while my step-mom underwent cancer treatments (many thanks to everyone for their good wishes – she’s finished treatment now and doing fine). But I didn’t have time to fulfill the obligations of the award. Instead, I linked to this post, with a promise to uphold my end of the bargain when I did have time… which is now. The awards all have similar requirements:

Thank the person who shared the award with you by linking back to them in your post.
List 7 – 10 things about yourself.
Pass this award to 7- 15 recently discovered blogs and let them know that you included them in your blog post.

For the sake of efficiency (which I prefer to the probably-more-accurate descriptor: “laziness”), I’m rolling all my obligations into this post – hope the blogging police don’t catch me.

Seven Things About Me (that weren’t included in the last post):

The photo in my blog header is a 2010 Harley-Davidson Crossbones. Sadly, I don’t actually own a Harley – they’re a little too rich for my budget. The only ride I have available right now is an ’85 Honda VF1100 Magna. But hey, if my books hit the bestseller list, maybe I’ll buy a Harley. (I can hope, can’t I?)
In my last post I showed you one of my oil paintings, so this time, I’m going to inflict my piano-playing on you. Don’t say I didn’t warn you. Here it is.
I’ve worked as a church organist, gas jockey, camp counsellor, teacher, receptionist, bookkeeper, interior designer, draftsperson, construction project manager, computer geek, tech writer, Microsoft Office instructor, and author, in that order. I’ve been an entrepreneur for so long (23 years), I’m pretty much unemployable.
In various adventures, I’ve been kicked, punched, cut, burned, and run over by a motorcycle. A strong man has crushed my skin with pliers, and I have scars on my hand from the time I tangled with a 250-lb steroid-fuelled bodybuilder. This might make you think I’ve led a dangerous, violent life. I haven’t. All those things were done unintentionally, most of them by my friends during sporting events or back-yard car tinkering. But it makes me sound like a badass if I don’t mention that part, right?
I’m just under 5’-10” barefoot. Sometimes for giggles, I go into the shoe store and walk around in six-inch platform stilettos just to see the expressions on people’s faces. Voila. Yes, that shelf beside my elbow is about four and a half feet tall.

Which leads me to: I am not photogenic (obviously). I have a gift for twisting my face into an utterly asinine expression at the precise instant the camera clicks. That’s my story, and I’m sticking to it. I prefer to think I don’t look like that all the time.
I always swore I’d never write fiction. Oops. My bad. My excuse is under “Are you writing about yourself, you pathetic narcissist?” on the FAQ page.

And now for the fun part. I follow tons of blogs. My all-time favourites are in the Blogroll to the right, and I’m always adding more.

I don’t take orders very well, so I’m going play fast and loose with requirement #3. I’d like to name a few bloggers I’ve discovered recently and offer them any or all of the above awards (I’ll let them choose). Recipients, if you’ve already received these or if you don’t feel like playing, please accept this as a compliment and feel free to ignore the conditions of the award(s).

Nigel Blackwell usually blogs about anything that drives, flies and/or crashes, in witty posts full of fascinating behind-the-scenes detail. And every now and then he goes off the reservation with hilarious essays about such disparate topics as socks or “write-only” memory. You just can’t lose with Nigel.

If you love blues (and music in general) as much as I do, Longshot’s Blog has wonderful retro classics.

Harper Faulkner is always funny and/or thought-provoking. Don’t miss him – it’s worth the visit.

Carrie Rubin’s off-the-wall blog, The Write Transition, makes me laugh. She’s an author with a book being released this fall, so I hope you’ll go and give her some blog love.

Pat Bean is a wandering blogger who’s been on the road in an RV for the last 5 years with a pooch for a companion. It’s a fascinating chronicle if you’re into travelling the back roads.

Lisa Clark writes The Big Sheep Blog, “Where Imagination, Business and Life Collide”, and an online magazine for 50+ women called The Ripe Report. Lisa’s always got something interesting to say, so check her out.

And of course, don’t forget to visit my generous award-givers: Chris9911, How The Cookie Crumbles, and Fear No Weebles (love that name!).

Note to all my blogging buddies: If it looks like I unsubscribed from your blog this week, I didn’t – at least not intentionally. WordPress changed their defaults to automatically subscribe to comments every time I comment on a blog, and I got buried under email. When I unsubscribed from comments, I did it wrong, and unsubscribed from the blogs, too. Grrr. Have no fear, I’m still following you – I aggregate everything via RSS feed. But you might see me doing some weird stuff with follows/subscriptions for a while. Sorry about that.