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  • Writer's pictureJ. Darris Mitchell

Hand, foot and mouth. YECH!

On Desk

I have finally finished revising the edits for the Crane and the Wolf! I should have finished a week ago, but revision is difficult for me y’all. I love drafting. Love it. I write 3000 words almost every day, often hit 4k in a day, sometimes hit 5 and have even hit 6000 words written in a day before!!! (who’s bragging?)

Revising is a whole other story. I suppose because I write so fast, I feel like I need to take revision much slower. I would like to claim that this will make the end product better, so I will in fact claim that. There ya go!

Personal Note

My 18-month-old baby has hand foot and mouth disease. He had a rash a few weeks ago, and the doctor said it MIGHT be hand foot and mouth, but an ointment cleared it right up and we thought we were in the clear.


Sunday night, the poor lil’ bubba had had a 100 degree fever that continued into much of the day Monday. That broke finally, but now he’s covered in big nasty red blisters with white centers. Not too many on his hands, feet or mouth yet, and the doctor thinks he’s over the worst of it, but it’s been super difficult, especially at night, when it seems to be the itchiest. We’re concerned it’s going to get worse and spread further, or that his older brother will get it. Apparently, most of us disgusting adults had it long ago, so are extremely low risk. I’d trade him the affliction for my own health if I could though.

Bird of the Week

On my birthday, I took my eldest son out of the feverish sleepless house in search of a black capped vireo at Reimers Ranch. These tiny birds are extremely rare and elusive but we had a hot tip. We followed the mixed use trail, sweating our butts off until we reached the mile 3 marker (we had started at 2.1, so I’m not that tough of a dad!)

We stopped, snacked, and listened to what surely had to the vireos. Except I wasn’t sure at all, so instead of enjoying the birdsong, I was tormented by it.

So when a bird flew by that seemed the right size and shape, my son and I followed it into the tall grass, past cactus, and to a thick tangle of brush.

We sat and waited patiently, listening to a call that filled me with no small amount of anxiety simply because I wasn’t certain it was from this bird. And then it happened. The black capped vireo popped out, showing me its black head, white spectacles, and reddish eye.

It stayed in the open just long enough for me to see it vocalize. I had in fact been hearing this bird, only now that I was certain, its voice taunted me no longer. Instead, it sounded like music.

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