August proved an eventful and busy month. I spent the first twenty-five days planning little surprises for my husband to help him celebrate his birthday. I baked a lot of treats, purchased a few small gifts, and even wrote him some poems. He is such a lucky guy that we will spend this entire month trying to drop the extra pounds acquired from all that love.

We also made an appearance at the somewhat local renfaire. I decided to wear last year's fairy costume without the awesome wig. I was a little closer to period dress than some other people in attendance, and it was much cooler than my more accurate ensembles which involve thick layers and velvet. Somehow, I also convinced the birthday boy to buy me a coin belt. Let the jingling begin.

We also discovered a band called Rising Regina. They sing a song about drinking (and sheep) that I find incredibly amusing. In fact, I belted it out to random deer and the bouncy blue racquetball on our mini-vacation into the Poconos. The deer tended to run off. The bouncy, blue ball chose to try to thwap me in the face, the hip, the leg, and anywhere but the racket.

Honestly, I continue to fail at athleticism. My mini-golf game has not improved. My first game went pretty well. I kept it around twenty-five strokes, but my subsequent games almost reached triple digits. At least I have fun laughing at my own expense.

Anyway, I should probably clean something and make decisions about the rest of my labor day weekend. I hope you have awesome plans, my friends. (If not, you can always reread or catch up on the fiction blog...and leave comments.

As I adjust to my seven hundred thirteenth year, the world reminds me of what being young can entail. As I watch the little children walking around in a cloud of oblivion, I dive around them and hope for the best. I may have actually stepped over a small child at some point today. It was that kind of day.

My husband and I arrived early so we could jot down a few notes on the blackboard. As I finished one of my delightful drawings, my husband came back from a reconnaissance mission to inform me that all of the primary classes were meeting together to practice for their big presentation in three weeks. We erased our hard work and proceeded to the practice session where we were basically informed that we aren't really needed, which didn't improve either of our moods.

Since I didn't really have a purpose, I just observed the proceedings and made the following observations:

The more you tell the children not to jump, the more they want to jump.

The cold room caused one little girl to keep taking her shoes off and blow in them.

Even when people saw you sitting in a seat, they still crassly complain about your possessions remaining in that spot when you walk away for thirty seconds to speak to someone with the obvious intent of returning.

Little children can be rather adorable when they belt out the last word of every line of a song because that is the word they know best.

You can wear a clip on tie in your shirt pocket though you probably wouldn't if you weren't young and creative.

Aside from those observations, all I scored today was a twisted ankle and a skinned knee. Two of my friends recently adopted a handsome little boy. Since I missed the impromptu baby shower, we brought their gift to church and left it in the car. As I was racing to retrieve it after church, my shoes proved that they have mighty kung fu. My ankle twisted and I slammed into the ground. With my resilient hobbit spirit, I bounced right back to my feet and trotted off to the car.

My present brought joy to the hearts and eyes of the recipients. You can't ask for a better response to a present than that. After all, nothing says love like a huge box of baby wipes. I probably should have snagged one for myself. When I showed my knee to my husband, it was oozing blood. Can't beat days like today, right?

I should have posted about all the interesting tidbits from this week already, but I got distracted by my many obsessions again. I offer this as explanation not excuse and offer those little bits now to amuse your mind and get you up to date.

In reconnecting with a dear friend of mine, I finally managed to get her on the phone for a while. As we were chatting about the important things in life such as adorable children, quilts, and dancing for the joy of it, another phone call came through. Since the number seemed close to another friend I had tried to call recently, I switched over. An unfamiliar voice greeted me and asked for my husband. I rolled my eyes and let her know he wasn't available. She said she would call me back later. I said goodbye, but she had to toss in the comment that the call was regarding my husbands Playboy. I rolled my eyes and chuckled as I resumed my previously scheduled conversation. Seriously, was she so annoyed that he wasn't around to talk to that she wanted to get him in trouble? Too bad, I trust my husband. Silly telemarketers. Tricks are for the people receiving unsolicited calls.

In other news, I rediscovered my old website, which has been unused since about 2003. The file manager claims that the site has had a few hits. I wouldn't have any hits if it weren't for bots, right? *waves hello to bot*

I've also been trying to focus on my fiction blog. If I get a couple dozen stories ready to be posted, then I won't disappoint my imaginary readers by missing a post or two when the holidays take over my life. Since my holidays start with Halloween and go through New Years, I am completely distracted for a whole three months.

I've even begun my preparations for the great gift-giving gala. Santa will be so glad he outsourced some of his duties to this particular hobbit. Maybe he'll reward me with something particularly awesome this year...

Those who read my fiction blog without prompting or stalk me on the social networks have received the sad news that my mother passed away last Monday. I spent much of Monday baking dozens of cookies. My brother assured me that I couldn't do anything by rushing out except making us both cry, so I occupied myself until he could give me further information. A few things bothered me about my mother's passing:

My husband and I planned to visit that coming weekend. It had been a while and I would have loved to hug her again and tell her I love her.

She passed away two days before her birthday. Since her mother died at 50, every year past that age gave her a mix of sadness and happiness that I can't explain.

I made a gift specifically for her that I really wish she could have seen.

Telling the other people she loved about her passing seemed cruel. The ensuing weeping sessions helped us cope, but still made me feel bad for having to tell them such terrible news.

People keep calling or hugging me to cheer me up. Sometimes, these people don't even really know me. One of them gave me a cold. Becoming a hermit seems like a good plan for weeks like this.

My niece and nephew probably won't remember how much she loved them. My niece has a better chance, but my nephew is younger than I was when my grandmother died and I only have the vaguest memories of her. My brother and I will have to remind them of the good times.

On the other hand, a few things bring me some sense of peace:

My mother has been in pain for a number of years, so she isn't in pain anymore.

I got to talk to her that Sunday and tell her that I love her.

I know life doesn't end with this life.

I know she is with her mother, grandfather, and others who love her and already passed away.

With luck, the many people who want to offer me condolences will respect my desire not to be constantly bombarded. I received another random call today. People seem surprised that I am not bursting into tears. I've had over a week, and I seem to have got most of my crying done in the first two nights, even in my sleep. If that isn't healthy, I guess I'm sick... Or my faith reassures me that I don't need to waste time crying when I can be remembering my mother fondly.