Something Stupendous: Layer Poultry

Layer Poultry. This is the phrase that took me down a peg and made me grin at my own silliness. I went a hundred different places as to what this phrase could possibly be referring to, going as far to google it. Before circling back around and going ‘well duh silly, it’s exactly what it sounds like – layer poultry’.

This is stupendous. The places your mind goes before arriving on the logical conclusion. The genuine confusion that bubbled in my soul. It’s an exacting, specific descriptive term that is exactly what it sounds like but still promotes imagination. STUPENDOUS ON BOTH COUNTS. I love things that explicitly say what they are and I love things that promote imagination.

I didn’t know you could put them together.

Please enjoy the two minute journey that my brain just went on when confronted with the term ‘layer poultry’:

Layer poultry. Right. Is that a food processor? No idea. Well, what is layer poultry? Chickens. Definitely a chicken farmer. Why layers? Layer chickens. No way. This is some fancy kind of layered chicken dish? As in layers of different kinds of chicken meat – like a chicken turducken. Turducken for the middle class. Yes. I like it.

Except they’re farmers. If they weren’t farmers they wouldn’t be on this list. Farmers seem unlikely to be serving fancy layered chicken. Maybe it’s a farming practice, like it’s a way of keeping the chickens. Or growing the chickens – no, raising chickens, come on no-one says growing chickens.

MAYBE THEY STACK THE CHICKENS ON TOP OF EACH OTHER. Like an epic Tower of Chickens, Chicken jenga. Yes, they take all the chickens and stack them in a pile with all their little scary chicken feet standing on the feathered back of other chickens. Very Yertle the Turtle. It’s layers of chickens. Wait no, that’s a really dumb idea. Live chickens don’t seem horribly stackable. And what would be the purpose?

I can’t believe I just proposed a tower of chickens. Embarrassing. Sometimes I wonder about my mental state. Maybe layers of caged chickens. That’s at least stackable and believable in terms of saving space. You know, I could just Google it. Then I’d know.

Oh good. Guidelines on layer poultry. Exactly what I wanted to read today. Skim. Skim. Ah wait. No. It cannot be that simple. Embarrassment increases. Why didn’t I think of that. They’re chickens. OF COURSE that’s what it means. Eggs silly. Layer poultry. As opposed to meat poultry. Not layers of chickens. I can’t believe you spent 30 seconds believing that some farm was creating the leaning tower of poultry and a farmer spent his days stacking his chickens for no discernible purpose.

END

Personally, even aside from the stupendousness of layer poultry, I think that little brain trip would make layer poultry stupendous all on its own.

And in case you’re like me, layer poultry means raising chickens who will grow up to be layers. As in the chickens who lay eggs. Layer poultry = egg laying chickens.

I wasn’t the only one who missed that. Right? RIGHT?

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Something Stupendous: And Suddenly… Beavers

Me: *bursts through the door into the house* MOM!

Mom [in another room probably having a heart attack because I am not a ‘burst through the door and shout’ kind of person but rather a ‘slink in the door and quietly traverse the two feet into my bedroom’ kind of person]: Archie?

~ As you may have noticed my name is not actually Archie. My mother is just fond of nicknames. As in she really never uses my real name even when friends are over which just gets mortifyingly embarrassing when she absently calls you Lulabell McFerdinand or something~

Me: Guess what I discovered at work today?

Mom: Something technical that you had to make sound pretty?

Me: *shouting across the house* BEAVERS!

Mom: *pauses then appears* There were beavers at work?

Me: No, not at work, in work. There were beavers in my work. Unexpectedly stupendous beavers. I got paid to write about dam-building, tail smacking, big toothed beavers. Do you know how often that happens? Someone just hands you beavers in the middle of your more technical mumbo jumbo and farm assessments?

Mom: *starts to mirror my enthusiasm* NOT OFTEN.

Me: NOT OFTEN! I genuinely lol’d. Big ol’ snort in the cubicle. Then I had to explain to my cubicle-mates the whole beaver situation. I can’t tell if they were chuckling at the beavers or my beaver enthusiasm or my weird snort noises.

Mom: *looks like ? *

Me: Laughed out loud, come on Mom. You keep telling me you’re hip. Be hip. Get with the lingo.

Mom: *subtle conversation change* It is almost Canada Day.

Me: Right! It’s a sign from the universe.

Mom: What sign?

Me: I don’t know, but it’s some kind of sign. Maybe the beaver overlords are coming. Maybe Canada will finally raise its beaver army, join its moose brethren and instill a state of politeness and maple syrup over the whole world. Look at that idea – we could achieve world peace with beavers.

Mom: Sometimes I worry about you.

Me: I know. But really the beavers weren’t even the best part – have you heard of beaver deceivers? Because I hadn’t. But they are essentially things that deceiver beavers. It RHYMES. Not only did I get unexpected beavers in the middle of a workday but I got rhyming beavers.

beaver deciever

Beaver deceivers are deceptively unbeaveresque

Mom: What are beaver deceivers?

Me: No clue. Some kind of beaver trap for when they annoy farmers. Apparently Manitoba hasn’t caught onto the beavers = world peace thing yet.

Mom: Sometimes I wonder how you got that job.

Me: Because I believe in my stupendousness! Also because they knew that I was the kind of girl who could a) handle both the tedious technical reports and the excitement of unexpected beavers and b) because I’m the kind of girl who actually gets excited by a spontaneous beaver interruption. That kind of enthusiasm is an immediate moral lift.

Mom: Unexpected beavers are stupendous?

Me: YOU BET! *pause* When’s dinner?

Mom: Guess.

Me: When Hedgehog gets home.

My life in a nutshell… I’m only slightly paraphrasing.