Religious zealots and roosters


It’s the kind of stuff today that I used to pray for, for interesting blogging material. On my way to lunch, I first encountered the Jesus freaks on the corner of College and Monroe. One held a sign saying “Jesus’ law is perfect” and then it had some sort of command like “follow him or die” in smaller text. Today’s heat index being what it is, I wonder if this guy didn’t choose to suffer in the name of the Lord, you know, because that’ll get him into Heaven. I just don’t think I understand what compels people to stand out and wave at cars, trying to force their religious views on others. I’m not opposed to whatever they want to believe but why get all nutty about it? What good does it do anyone?

On my way back from lunch, I found myself driving behind a late 90’s model Buick with a cage in the trunk, bungee corded in. At first, I worried there was a dog in there; a poor little doggie dying in the stifling heat. As I got closer and noticed the quick jerky movements, I realized that the crate contained 5 roosters. It’s not like we live in a farming community or anything – this was totally random!

I had to run a quick errand outside and I momentarily got caught in the rain. What a welcome reprieve from the swelter! I miss feeling like that sometimes: carefree and just me. With the impending idea of complete and utter dependency from a small human, I don’t think I have felt like myself. And even that is so vague. “Felt like myself”. What does myself feel like? It varies day to day. I usually feel “like me” most days but there are times when I’m just on the outside, watching me work, watching me go through the mundane tasks like dusting and sweeping. Watching me interact with people, my husband. It’s difficult to explain but I just chalk it all up to pregnancy hormones.

2 thoughts on “Religious zealots and roosters

  1. Yeah, there’s somewhere on Jefferson that has them, like that weird bomb shelter church or something. I sometimes hear them when I walk down that road in the mornings.

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