These pages have been slowly filling with the dregs of my head for many years. I am fairly certain I have two readers who check in when they are bored. I should revamp, shouldn't I? I could make this blog dark and gothic or search for opportunities to share my unique perspective on the world. So that shall be my new purpose. As always, if the words or pictures contained in any of my journals inspire you, give me credit. I tire of people assuming I won't notice that they take credit for my ideas.

Last night, in fact, my husband insisted that he had heard the infamous worm in a coconut tree song before me. Apparently, it is so catchy that it burrows into your mind and implants itself into your childhood memories. Thought I'd warn those of you who have heard it. If you have heard my masterpiece, it may be the continuous loop that keeps you from completely shuffling loose the mortal coil. In other words, don't commit suicide. It isn't going to make your world better.

Since music declared itself to be the theme for today, I feel I should share some observations. For some reason, my husband doesn't inspire me to write poetry. Eyes and ears perk for such statements. Instead, my feelings rush out in song. Since I don't credit myself with much of a singing voice that could be more tragic than my distaste for the mountains of poetry I have written. I suppose I could turn those into songs that would horrify the masses, as well.

Due to the fact that I am not sure I can do much with my voice, I have been working on my ongoing resolution to learn to play my guitar. I am doing better than my last dozen attempts. I have picked it up more than a couple of times a week. Though I haven't developed calluses, I believe my hand locks into the correct position. I'd break my fingers otherwise trying to reach around the whole neck of the guitar. (I don't think guitars are designed for hobbits, but I don't intend to let that stop me.)

Insomnia caused me to run away from my bed last night. While my husband got some much-needed sleep, I decided to work on the calluses I mentioned yesterday. My fingertips hurt when I went to bed, but not as much as my left arm. I really need to work on strengthening my arms. I spent some time today adding to the annoyance of my weak arm. My ability to transition from one chord to the next needs work, as does my ability to strum the correct strings while holding them down with the correct finger. I need a lot of work. I see no shame in this.

Being shameless, I try to make time for all my weak points each day. I seriously attempted pilates for the first time tomorrow. By the time I finished the thirty minute circuit, my legs exhibited extreme anger. Of course, my bellybutton decided to be the whiner this morning. Apparently, I do have abs in there somewhere, and they were content lazing away into worthless sludge. Oops.

I also decided to beat the band to the birthday wishes for my first wife. During the course of our conversation, she allowed me to give my version of "the talk" to my godson. Apparently, he found my advice amusing as opposed to embarrassing. I offer it here for your youngsters: "Stay away from girls. They're nothing but trouble." Edit for gender, of course.

This conversation also affirmed a prognostication I made twelve years and two months ago. I stated that my godson would be taller than me by the time he was twelve. I am assured that he is taller than me. I couldn't really go wrong with that one since he was a very tall preemie and I am a hobbit.

This caused me to realize that I have three godsons who never get to see me. I'll add that to my list of personal traits to work on. What do you need to work on?

As I mentioned before, I believe we all have a lot of areas where we can improve. To this end, I have been reading through a bunch of articles from Writer's Digest for inspiration to improve everything I write. Sighs of relief fill the web, right?

TOP TEN THINGS I SHOULD WRITE

10. About killing my darlings (a.k.a. cookies).
9. An ending that leaves the reader satisfied.
8. An opener that makes the reader hungry for more. (I should start all my works with talk of cookies.)
7. Something people want to read. (That leaves out the story of a goldfish from the pet store to the toilet bowl though I think that has been written.)
6. A self-help blog for someone with too may irons in her sugary fire. (Found here?)
5. Long treatises on why some other people need to get over their delusions. (Sometimes found here?)
4. Love letters to my guitar. (These shall be sung at midnight. Luckily, I don't tend to be up that late these days.)
3. Bone-tickling, spine-tingling, or tummy-tickling pieces.
2. Memoires of my life as a cat lady. (I think I have that started somewhere.)
1. Whatever comes to my mind. (Because someone is bound to find it fascinating. Perhaps, a follower of Sigmund Freud.)

While the fourth has been with me, I have felt young compared to my dear Yoda. At 712 years, I come in almost two centuries younger than him. This makes communicating with the truly young a little easier for me.

I spent much of today in the company of the young. They made me realize that being young has many advantages. Other people supply your food and entertainment. No one looks at you funny when you have a box full of costumes that you pull out whenever you like. Adults also tend to be cooperative about reading you books and conversing on any topic you desire from animals to trains. Raise your hand if you want to be a kid again.

You can put your hands down now.

Mondays continue to plague me and my loyal followers. Okay, maybe not my loyal followers. The stray cats haven't tamed me enough to get a free lunch yet. They may have given up trying though I still see Scruffles taking a nap in the compost from time to time.

Since I haven't felt like doing much today, I made time to bake four dozen cookies for a memorial service for a lady at church. Hopefully, the magical power of cookies brings some peace to the hearts of those mourning the dear lady's loss. Of course, a church hymn floats through my mind as I type this. I think we all know where we can turn for peace, don't we?

Don't worry. My mind continues to work at maximum speed. The current topic of all that wild power? Bringing a wider audience to the fiction blog. Have you clicked "follow" over there yet? I don't think you have. Get to work!

Sister missionaries are very brave. So brave, in fact, that they asked me to give them a ride into a neighboring state today. They even enlisted the help of a GPS. I swear that the GPS makes people crazy. This one kept telling me to turn when I couldn't turn and didn't remind me to turn when I should. I found this very aggravating, but we all survived.

Due to some outstanding genetics, I managed to blend in with the twenty-somethings until my sisters ratted me out. I even got offered my very own set of name tags. Of course, I don't think I could pass for an elder, but the offer came from the right place.

I wouldn't want to pass for an elder for so many reasons. I should detail them below. Yes? Yes.

TOP TEN REASONS I DON'T WANT TO PASS FOR AN ELDER

10. Elders seem to enjoy aggressively chest-bumping each other. It sounds painful.
9. I wouldn't be allowed to hang out with the sisters, who happen to be awesome!
8. My husband really wouldn't like that for so many reasons.
7. I heard a story today about one of the areas the elders cover that involved bullet holes in air conditioners.
6. Two whole years away from Kitchen Aid and my husband? No thanks.
5. Judging by the crowd in that room, I'd have been one of the five shortest elders in the field.
4. 6:30 in the morning is a little early for me to waking up.
3. This hobbit spending all day with one person would drive them crazy.
2. The potential of being transferred every six weeks would cause trauma to my lack of desire to move many more times in my life.
1. I am definitely not male.

I also got to sit in on another meeting after the main one. I don't think many of us realize how much work these young men and women put into being ready to teach. I recognize that not everyone is ready to hear the message that the missionaries bring, but those who are ready should definitely feel lucky to be the recipients of such love.

After the meetings concluded, we reentered the world of GPS insanity. We decided to go home by way of a Dairy Queen. We passed by one without the GPS saying a word, hurriedly turned into it, and discovered it was closed. Assuming this is why the GPS compelled us to keep driving, we followed its instructions upon our return to the road. After driving about a mile down the road, we were directed to make a U-turn and go back to the closed Dairy Queen. I decided to begin ignoring the GPS at that point and took us to a Dairy Queen I knew was along the route home. Happiness ensued.

Hobbit taxi services continued through the day. I got to drive a friend's daughter to piano practice. We made it safely from point A to point B and back, so the world continues to be a happy place.

I woke up this morning to find an offer of lunchtime girl time. Who says "no" to that. Of course, I fear that was the only item worth noting about my day. I am still working on some fiction blog related issues, indexing records for familysearch, and surfing many locales on the web though, so that should count for something, right?

A friend/ mentor/ teacher/ mother-figure of mine passed away last month. I've been dealing in my own way. That means I distract my mind with my million projects and offer moral support to other people who grieve.

Sadly, my experiences with other people who grieve reveals that sometimes we get selfish and a little mean when we grieve. I was reflecting on this today as I talked to a friend who has lost someone she loves. If anyone has any advice to assuage the hurt feelings of fellow grievers, please feel free to share.

The husband and I traveled again this weekend. We had family to visit. I even begged for visitation rights to my niece and nephew. They seem to enjoy having a new, captive audience every now and again. They entertained us by dancing, playing basketball (with a hobbit child-sized hoop), and being generally adorable. My nephew has even discovered consonants so his witty banter was easier for us to understand.

Of course, since I was in the home of the Mother's Day Shrine, I dropped in to visit my mother. She marked the occasion with sparkles and flowers in her hair. My unique sense of style (or lack thereof) resulted from years of training.

The past week has brought me face to face with the reality of my addictions, as well. I visited three separate Dairy Queens. I would seek help, but I really don't want it. I will just have to steer clear of sweetness for a while so my veins can cleanse themselves a little. (Yeah, that could happen...)

We also spent some time with the in-laws. If I ever visit them and find myself hungry during the visit, I will know something is wrong. They seem to be concerned that I am not eating enough. I have the opposite concern as I sit here looking down at my cookie belly.

For the second time, I returned home from my trip to find that one of my friends passed away while I was out that way. I begin to worry that I should just stay home.

To console myself, I sat down on my couch and plucked at my guitar strings. Yes, they remain attached to the guitar. I know where my fingers belong to make A, E, G, and D. I don't like the way they sound which means I should a) cut my nails and b) tune it again. I also reserve the right to c) take it to the guitar doctor and make sure it hasn't decided to commit suicide. I would not be surprised...

I had the purest intentions. I wanted to post here more often. I wanted my posts to be more meaningful. I even wanted them to spark a fire or plant a seed that would blossom forth to inspire just one reader. Sadly, I find my journal still resembles the ramblings of a brainstorming mind with a very poor filter.

Lately, my mind has been filled with random information about gluten free cooking. I can still devour as much wheat as I like, but I have a friend who can't. Since she visits once a week, I've been trying to make treats she can eat. This has led me to the exploration of a rather inspiring site. The author of this site is pretty amazing. Check it out. I highly recommend the peanut butter cookies as a start.

I've also dug around in my mind for some basic music theory. If I ever hope to play my guitar with any degree of skill, I feel that information may be useful. I begin to fear my basic music knowledge falls short of my need. That means more fun for me. If my brain explodes, I probably won't remember to update you so wish me well.

With two whole months until my own cake celebration day, I find my mind twisting and twisting around the things we all should do to be better people. I find that, like most people, these admonitions frequently manifest as don'ts. I also find that my brain provides references, memories, and parables about why we should do or not do the items I am about to list for future reference. I will refrain from telling the stories since I already post so many stories.

THINGS BETTER PEOPLE DO

1. Be the change you want to see in the world.
2. Smile at the people around you. It really can change attitudes if it is a real smile from the heart.
3. Be honest with yourself and others. So many people lead themselves into horrible situations because they refuse to accept that things aren't as they appear.
4. Be true to yourself.
5. Be the kind of person you want to surround yourself with. It will draw those wonderful, loving, kind, generous people to you.
6. Be aware of your own worth.
7. Work for what you want and revel in your accomplishments. Of course, who hasn't heard my rant about people who want to take credit for something someone else did all the leg work for. If you want credit for making a quilt something, you have to do the work. (Stealing from someone else doesn't count as work. Sorry.)
8. Make the most of your time by making time for those you love as well as work and personal enrichment (whether it be educational, emotional, or spiritual).
9. Recognize that items which are not broken don't need fixed.
10. Be respectful of those around you. Whether you know them or not, certain curtsies have not gone the way of the dodo.

Due to extreme personal issues, I spend lots of time carefully painting surfaces around my house. With luck, the room I began destroying last May might just be basically finished by the end of the week. Hopefully, my can of trim paint doesn't get depleted before then. Wish me luck with that.

Most of the weekend was spent harassing my poor husband to help me reach these goals. I get the impression that I brag too much about how good he is to me, but I figure my friends will realize I am just expressing gratitude and be happy for me. Sadly, some people don't seem to get that. Such is life.

Well, dear readers, since I have been obsessing over cleaning, organizing, creating, writing, and painting, I lack interesting events to report here. Stay posted and keep happy.

As part of my ongoing attempt to make my possessions take up less space, I rooted through some old photos today. Some of my standard truths remain true:

*Some hobbits, particularly this one, were never meant to be photographed.

*I could probably lose some friends by posting pictures because no matter how amusing I find that fact that my friend tried to hide from me and my first wife in the bathroom, he may not want the world to see such an image.

*Investing time in scrapbooks could probably help me resolve some of my photo storage issues.

*Animals love to have their photos taken with me.

Aside from this, the high point of my week will involve visiting a friend's sweet kitties this weekend. She cautioned me that they may stay in hiding, but I hope I still have a little cat lady swagger so I get a chance to scratch one of them behind the ears. Wish me luck.