I signed in to Live Journal just now and was pretty surprised to see that I haven't posted anything for eight weeks. Eight weeks. That's a long time on the blog front, isn't it? Erg. So no here I am blogging about how I haven't been blogging.

The truth is that I've been upping my expertise (such as it is) where writing is concerned. I've been cramming as much information is possible during one of my natural learning stints. You know, one of those times where you simply cannot find out enough about a subject that interests you -- when your brain seems to just slurp up anything and everything available, even stuff you already know, in an attempt to readjust given this new context. Yeah, and like a full and satisfied tick at the end of a long feast, I'm gurgling with it -- considering giving a loud and reverberative burp -- and digesting everything with a view to placement in my writing. Happy days.

Out of my head and back at the 'stead, I have a hen who's gone broody -- and isn't that a bloody strange state of mind? I gave her some fertilised eggs to sit on to keep her 'happy', but am concerned about exactly how seriously she takes this task. She is diligent to the point of catatonia or -- if I didn't bring her out of the hen house a couple of times a day for food and water -- death. She goes into a hypnotic trance that is really hard to shake her out of. Twice at day I risk life and limb (well okay, I risk being pecked a bit) to bring her outside for sustenance. Twice a day she just sits by the feeder staring into space and making this odd broody half-cluck noise until, rising in complete shock and indignation as though just waking, she looks around in horror. I can only imagine she's thinking 'How the bloody hell did I get HERE?' before attacking the pellets and corn with gusto. Poor old bird.

Wouldn't it be funny if human women did that too?

Oh, wait...