Jeff and I have both noticed her. She sits on the PVC pipe while we collect eggs. She waits. And then she attacks just when we get within her reach. She goes for the knees... she knows that I am wearing shorts underneat that smock.

And there she was in front of me. Naked necked and scruffy feathered. Waiting for me to wrestle her back into the chicken-corrals. I'd never picked up a living hen before. Well, tried to pick up a hen before. After a few cartoon-ish minutes of chasing her around, I grabbed her firmly around her body. Her wings flapped stupidly for a bit while she scratched the air frantically. Suddenly she realized that she was safe. She seemed to relax and feel relieved. I kicked open the chain-linked gate and tossed her in. Live hens feel pretty much like dead hens, except that they are warm and they wriggle. Which could possibly be worse...

Pedalling my bike to Genetics, The Watchmen played on my discman. It's been ages since I've pulled that CD from the rack. It brought back memories of that Arts County Fair back in 2nd year. It was a cool April day, and we all had worn tank-tops to celebrate the end of classes. I'd found this really cute boy... the sun was going down.. he took me into the mosh pit and kept me safe with his warm arms. He was never to be seen again, but that boy brought me much confidence.

I contrast that day with today. Peter phoning me to go for lunch tomorrow. Kevin wanting to meet up sometime in the near future so that he can "see my smile in living colour" once more before he leaves for Toronto. Cowboy calling me "Darlin'" again. I've grown up so much since that Arts County. I probably still have a long way to go.