I bought a chicken.
Yes, I scoffed at the Texas lady for spending $100 on a metal chicken and yet, here we are.
So... meet "Rico", the party chicken. I wanted to call him "Steve" but was voted down. Actually, I wanted to call him "Choke". Choke, the chicken. Also, voted down. But it got props for being "delightfully vulgar."
We got Rico at Costco. Not in Costco, but at Costco. We had gone to Sequim to pick strawberries and on the way home, we swung by Costco for gas. Right next to the enormous Costco, was a tiny little house with a couple dozen metal sculptures on the lawn. Roy paused in front of the house and said, "Want a metal chicken?" and I said, "Don't be silly." But by the time we reached that pump, I had to have a metal chicken. So I jumped from the car and bolted across the parking lot to the little house.
Now, you'd think that a house next to Costco would have cheap metal chickens. Or at least sell them to you in a blister-pack of 6. But no. The man's an Artisan. Wouldn't even haggle over the price of his masterpiece. So I shamelessly shelled out roughly $100 for Rico. Who is only 2 feet tall. So I am a much worse bargain hunter than the Blogess. And here I mocked her for her impulse buy!
The story should end there, but doesn't. We get back on the road and we are all giddy about our chicken, making jokes and coming up with names and we blow past a cop at 70. In a 55. Guess what, he was not looking the other way. So, in addition to our $100 chicken, we have a more-than-100-dollar speeding ticket.
I would like to blame Party Chicken but, as Roy points out, the chicken wasn't driving.
And that is how Rico came to live with the Pardees. Please stop by to check him out. Five dollars a peep. We have a speeding ticket to pay off, you know.
You Rock!!!!!
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