Phyllis Diller chicken

I remember seeing Phyllis Diller do stand-up on TV, and thinking, "Wow, that is some amazing old lady up there in that mini dress & awful hair." She was completely unlike anyone I'd met, because I mostly grew up around Quiet People of the Northwest. Who wore loud dresses like that? Certainly no adult whom I knew.

Being in horse 4H, my sister and I spent several days each summer at the fairgrounds. We'd constantly tour the barns when we weren't preparing for or attending show classes, and we loved visiting the poultry barn. We called any chicken with a crazy, tufty mop-top a Phyllis Diller chicken.

Today I was walking through Westlake Park and saw the back of some booths, and the words "Puyallup Fair" on a banner. And then I saw it: a petting zoo.

Now, I get a little squee-nutty around farm animals. I adore them, and want to take them all home and give them lemon bars and serve them tea in dainty china cups. So when I saw the pygmy goats, sheep, the rabbit, and the two chickens at the little mini-farm, whose intention is to lure us city folk to the state fair that starts this weekend, I was all over them like the kitten who shredded my hand in Mexico this spring. Except, unlike the kitten, the petting zoo inhabitants mostly ignored me. And there was no blood shed. And no rabies shots afterwards.

We should be so lucky to be like Phyllis Diller when we're older. Actually, we should be like her now, fashion sense and all. This little chick's for you, Phyllis.