Boojee, Bad Dreams, Roosters, and Varicose Veins – A perfect storm.


I just opened the Keep Notes App and have to gather my thoughts. This is where I come to thumb out the words when I have an important idea to capture, or experience to convey in writing, or if I need dryer sheets at Walmart, getting my points, meanings, and grocery lists together.

It’s not quit 9am here in Georgia and I’m on my second cup of coffee. I just ran through my email, text, and Facebook notifications when a third time in 24 hours someone has tagged me in the article about a chicken loving woman being killed by her mean rooster because in a beat all odds scenario he hit one of her hard labored veins. Rooster Rage is Real is what my dear friend said to me. This is sad and I am so sad for that lady’s family. I hope she knew Jesus.

Now what I am going on to say some of you may find funny, some may be confused by my terminology, and some may just have the need to pray for me to get right myself before Larry brings the curtain down on my little attempt at literary pontifications … Here goes…

I learned a new word recently, Boojee, it has been around for a long time but in my 60 second research I notice a date as far back as 2004 with relation to this word. I’ve attached in the comments the screenshot of this definition as best it was described to me. It was remarked to me by a friend who will remain nameless, Mindie, that I once was Boojee but I’ve lost that title since taking to farm life, castration of small ruminents, and rat killing. I was taken aback because I was not Boojee ever, I was raised by an Electrician and a Government Bookkeeper. Middle class as a white girl can get. My daddy taught me how to check voltage and in fun electrocute friends and my mom taught me how to hide the shopping in the trunk from the electrician and work the books so he was none the wiser. Solid, loving, middle class upbringing.

In the past few weeks two things have had my attention. The first is my mean rooster Larry, which if anyone who even kinda knows me, knows of him and second, only a couple people know (this is where it get personal), I went to the doctor to see about my varicose veins. Now a third “thing” has been added to my undivided attention by well meaning friends, a documented chicken lady death in what would be considered a freak accident.

I often dream, my dreams are vivid always, full of details and I usually wake up mad at Chris, ask him, he will confirm this. Last night I dreamed of a rooster, a very mean rooster, I’m serious when I tell you this part because it is crucial to my coming to full understanding of my situation, he was after small kids which is usually funny but in this dream was super scary, and the only way I could keep him from the kids that were trying to visit was to allow him to attack me. I could catch him for quick second but then he would be back at it. I woke up exhausted and sore to yet another tag on Facebook, thank you Jennifer, seriously you have led me on the next turn in my discovery process. Killer roosters are real AND I have one in my backyard.

This is where my Boojee self recognized that my vanity in fixing my legs may be most practical thing to do, the rooster has to go, my dream was like literary foreshadowing of events that only a Boojee Chicken Keeper needs to be aware. Take care of yourself. Kill the rooster, fix your legs, stop drinking coffee at night, clean your own house before judging someone else’s, read your Bible, and love Jesus. It is so hodgepodge but in my anxiety ridden life it makes perfect sense. Did I mention I stabbed myself at the dump yesterday? Lol that is NOT Boojee and will require another post at another time.

Published by rebeccawilson

I believe in the God of the Bible and that Jesus is His Son who died on the cross at Calvary for the sins of the world. This free gift is for you and for me, if we accept that fact by faith and strive daily to follow His Living Word that is the same today, yesterday, and forever. Also, for the record, I love my boyfriend whom I have been married to for going on 18 years. We have two boys that are both in high school, which is taught at home by yours truly. Cats, dogs, chickens, ducks, goats, turkeys, squirrels, chipmunks, peacocks, song birds, coyotes, raccoons, opossums, all call our yard home and I have a story about all of them. I am originally from Kentucky, with deep roots in Eastern Kentucky's Appalachian Mountains. I grew up in a working class suburb of Lexington, Kentucky. I am married to a quiet feller from Birmingham, Alabama. We met in Tampa, FL, married, had two kids and moved to California. From there we landed in Alabama for a few years and then by the providence of God we moved to our little piece of heaven in Georgia where we live in a white house, on a little hill, in the rocky foothills of the Blue Ridge Mountains. I have some things I think I might want to write that maybe someone might want to read... mostly stories and experiences of my own and a few I can relay from second hand knowledge but none with great confidence, pride, or true story telling ability, just overthought ramblings that I quickly need to capture before I forget.

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