Perfect, tiny, new.

My aunt and uncle came to visit last week. They were our first real overnight guests in this incarnation of the household (though they won't be the last). This is the first time in my adult life that I've had anything resembling a suitable guest room to offer, and it's gone to my head so much I've been considering opening an impromptu bed and breakfast. The B&B couldn't have had a better debut, especially as it featured a very special present from the new women in Uncle Joe's life. On the right is one of two tiny eggs, the first efforts of a new flock of gararge-residing hens from New Hampshire. The second tiny egg here below, in a tiny pan.
Pullet eggs are sometimes misshapen, or too soft, or reflect a slow learning curve in other ways. Clearly Joe and Nicki have genius hens, who got it right the first time and blessed our little B&B with their impressive efforts (seriously, can any of you do that?).
Now I really want chickens. Except I'm afraid that my imaginary dog might chase them. But don't worry, being imaginary means neither of them present allergy problems for guests. So come over anytime.