Hermit week

This week is going to be remembered as hermit week.

A nasty stomach virus has been slowly creeping up on my child. Just when I think it is just a 'little something' that has her down for the day, this bug kicks it up a notch the next day. Well, whatever ails her bloomed into a full blown fever today topping out around 104 degrees this evening, with vomiting and body shivers. Her poor little body was flipping out but she somehow managed to handle it a lot better than I would have at my grown age of 29. We popped her current obsession in the dvd player (Charlie Brown Christmas...yeah, still), fed her ice chips, pumped her full of medicine, and eventually the fever began to come down.

As hard as it is to watch her be miserable, her sickness is doubly hard on me as it keeps me home during the week and wipes my schedule clear of any social activity. This is a typical part of parenting a sick child, I hear. But it's one part I struggle accepting. I need my friend time. It's my recharge time, and I fervently believe it makes me a better wife, mom, and person. Alas, sometimes the call of mothering necessitates such sacrifices. Making these sacrifices with a good attitude? Now that is the ultimate challenge.

I stepped outside of my house tonight to try to capture some of the low flying planes. We live mere miles from the Jacksonville Naval Air Station. I would not have thought this would impact our lives as much as it has. Low flying planes crossing over the house every five minutes, all day long. And lately? Night time flying. I'm way over any charm or curiosity I had the first few days of moving in. I really want to get a photo of one of these planes as it passes over the home. You would not believe how close they fly. A little 9-11 shutter comes over me sometimes.

While outside looking at the planes, I played around with my camera and the slow shutter speed appropriate for night time photos. By focusing on my neighbor's outdoor light, I attempted to write my name (top photo). Can you see it? It says 'Alina.' (Don't judge. Hermit week, in all it's boredom, produces some rather unusual behavior).

Finally, I dug deep into the files of my childhood memory and came away with an awesome find. I got to thinking about something my aunt tells every time I see her. She reminds me that as a child I had a really deep voice, and I would watch Sesame Street and sing, 'Which comes first, the chicken or the egg?' I sang it boldly and pronounced 'first' like 'purst'. I have no memory of this song, but I got to thinking that perhaps it could be found on Youtube. Look what I discovered.



Clearly the brainchild of some stoned, hippie chicken farmers, this video is quirky and fun. My sense of humor was already fully formed by age 3. And am I mistaken or does it sound like they are actually pronouncing 'first' like 'purst'?

I’ve already forwarded the proof to my aunt.