Two farms. 500 million eggs. Gob. Smacked. When my mind recovered, the questions foremost in it were: how did it get that way, and why? I don’t know if the US system is like the Australian system, where one massive “farm” is actually more of a distribution deal, with many smaller producers farming eggs under contract for the main “farm”, but everything I’ve read about the US recall points directly at two “farms”, with no information to suggest these are anything other than very very large farms.

Scritch scratch

Expert solutions to this man-made natural disaster range from the commonsense (simply throwing out suspect eggs, ie those that are cracked or older than a month) to the unrealistic (never eating even a slightly runny egg, meringue or real mayonnaise ever again) to the cure-possibly-worse-than-disease (substituting “pasteurized liquid egg product” for real, fresh eggs).

While we ponder the wisdom of solutions which address symptoms, not disease, let’s look at the situation in Australia. Recent stats show we have more than 400 specialist egg producers with about 13 million chooks providing around 2.3 billion eggs annually (with most bought by Australians and a few exported to Singapore, the US and the Philippines). Most eggs produced here are cage eggs, but signs are pointing towards people favouring smaller farms over bigger, and I am glad that our shopping dollars can work against the industrialisation of fresh food production, which I am very much against.

I prefer to buy our eggs (no more than two days old) from one of the farmers at my local weekend market (59c per egg for 58 gram eggs). But if that’s not an option, major Australian grocery chain offer choices ranging from cage eggs (25c each, 58 gram eggs) to RSPCA-certified barn eggs (43c each, 50 gram eggs) through to free-range certified organic eggs (61c each, 55 gram eggs). I usually go for the free-range which are grown within half an hour’s drive of my home, but sometimes the ones that have travelled a bit are OK too. (I loved this article on the country’s biggest free-range egg farmer. We should all be so fond of our jobs.)

While I’m grateful that we have these options, believe me, I’m not smug in the belief that they are either perfect or unassailable. Last month, the Australian Egg Corporation was in the media for its plans to change the definition of “free range” to include hens farmed at much greater density and to allow de-beaking of chooks, which is presumably to help giant producers to remain competitive. But if people continue to push their shopping dollars towards free range, low-density farmed eggs–and even in the tightest budget, top-quality fresh organic eggs are still going to be a very cheap family meal–hopefully our options will remain open. So, yeah, if you want Dora the Explorer eggs, you can get em. But you can also get straight-up fresh eggs from the person who looks after the chickens.

And to give thanks for the latter, here’s my recipe for excellent homemade mayonnaise, made this week with nice fresh eggs from the Barossa Valley. Eat in good health and enjoy.

I was up early this morning and got an unexpectedly misty view out the front windows. The sacred bamboo was frosted with enormous water droplets. I had only my cheapo mobile phone camera handy, so I stuck my even cheaper jelly macro lens on it and shot this—and I was surprised to find I could see the bamboo plant reflected in a drop of water balanced on a leaf…!

Didn’t last long, sun was out within a few hours. Stayed damp all day, though.

The result is a bit more glitzy-beady-shiny than I would have thought to do, not to mention a bit shonky in terms of the stitchy part, but it was good to actually use those glitzy beady shiny things that I um do happen to have stashed away in a drawer. (Come on, who doesn’t keep a little glitter tucked away somewhere?) It was also fun to shut up the inner perfectionist. (Shut up, you! In fact, I’m adding more glitter!!)

And if you’re going to glorify any object at all, you can’t go past a Brown Betty teapot.

High tea with Betty

It was rainy here yesterday. And cold. 8C/46F at lunchtime. That’s respectable winter weather.

I’ve also made some discoveries: opaque white ink (sure beats white-out), and the joys (and sorrows) of scanning and digital cleanup. (Did I mention it’s been a long time since my last foray into comics?) Once I started with the Photoshop tidy-up, I could have been there all night. Funny what brings out perfectionist tendencies. (Remember that clean desk? Clean no more!)

To bring up a larger version for easier reading, click on the strip, then in the new window, click on it once more…hmm, maybe I better discover a better image display widget…

A few of 64

I brought a basic old box of 64 Crayolas back from the States last year and would you believe they’ve gone untouched? They don’t inspire the kids (who are probably too geared for the upscale Crayola range these days—glitter glue, twisty pencils, rainbow this and neon that).

But tonight, I am going to use my crayons. I just read this blog’s entry about creativity and got as far as crayons and thought, yes! It’s a cold night, just right for parking one’s arse in front of the fire and drawing.

I just hope my crayons don’t melt. But if they do, I’ll just call it encaustic and carry on…

Late Feb/early March, I was busy with life-y things, and then, so busy with life-y things I got sideswiped by a flu-y thing, and then KO’d by a viral thing that took advantage of the flu-y thing to set up house in my knees, ankles and finger joints. This makes it hard to do pretty much anything I should or would like to do, from driving to knitting. Conveeeeenient!

I admit, that first day off work was pretty nice. Despite a roaring sore throat et al., I enjoyed having total control of the television and indulged in endless episodes of 30 Rock, endless cups of tea, and a day to myself at home.

But that was in early April. And guess what? I’m still home. And I’ve watched every episode of 30 Rock and several other shows, not to mention read pretty much the entire Internet (or at least the crafty bits). And to quote something I uncovered online during my convalescence: Blow this virus hence to hell! Had enough of it.

The enforced downtime has not been a total loss, however. I’ve been doing some very gentle cutty/pasty artwork, and finally found a tiny canvas stretcher for this ‘yarn drawing’, done in healthier days. Just looking at the sweet, tiny little stitches made me feel quite a bit better, actually.

Sampler sample