Sunday, September 23, 2012

blanche devereaux.......by Diane Ogden

Okay so that is Blanche Devereaux.  Yupsie!~  And I am so sad at the death of her.  She is a part of one of my clients families.  God Darnit all anyway.  I am not sure of the lifespan of chickens.  But no matter its still darn sad.  I see those chickens every other week near the lake in Madison....next door to the lady hoarder whom I hope doesn't die before I do so I don't have to fight all those mice that will leave her house and head for my clients home...eeeww       I don't think Blanche was chopped off at the neck like my dad used to chop our chickens heads off after their egg laying days were over.  God forbid that should happen to us ladies. Humm well actually it does doesn't it?  We are considered over the hill when the ovaries shrivel up. LOL.  Let me tell you I can still move like a rock star even though those two almond shaped little shits are shriveled.  Thank God they did.  Cause I had enough of that mess.  Enough children to teach me about life, enough Grands to allow me the grace to teach em back....and parents passing so I can have a life of peace with all the above! So here's to you Blanche Devereaux and all the eggs you blessed my clients with.  God Bless your everlasting life!  So.....there ya go.  You don't get to hold the legs like I used to after daddy killer chicken held the Blanches down over an old tree stump and raised the hatchet in the air and then lowered it hard!!!   (Scream)  Then he would hand me the leg and show me how to pull the tendon so the chicken fingers would move back and forth.  Whoopie phoophie huh?  Not my bag of tea!  Then mother farmer would pluck all the feathers out of the body like skinning a, well a chicken.  It stunk for real........ smell bad.  Then she would gutt it out....pull all the insides outside and that really smelled amazing. NOT!   Then she would cook it and then can it.  You know, pressurize the body so it wouldn't spoil and put it in jars for later use. Like they do people before putting them in coffins.  eeww eeewew. Yup that is what would happen to Blanche Devereaux at the funny farm I grew up on.  And I don't like even killing a spider! It's bad KARMA.  How did I get born to that funny farm?  Who knows.  But I did. Someday I may know the reason.  In the meantime I do recall Regge Rooster and my Dad shooting him at the funny farm because he got toooo big for his bridges and tried to attack all of us!  Even my bestie dog.   So I guess this wasn't so funny but maybe enlightening.  So until I find something funny or interesting, be well, be safe, and be happy, cause no one is  chopping your head off!  And get rich so you don't think about what is really happening.  Like Blanche Devereaux's death ....  she gave a family good health and happiness while here on earth.  That is damn good stuff Blanche.  RIP old girl!

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