| So you're thinking about going country?
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| | You believe shoes matching your nail
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| It's time to abandon the frenzy of city
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| | polish is in any way a daily priority.
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| life, drop the 'G' from the end of your
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| | You don't recognize that it is morally
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| verbs and trade your Gucci for goats. You
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| | bankrupt to apply for a permit from a
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| long to be in a place where business is
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| | homeowners association to put out a lawn
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| done on a handshake, where your backyard
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| | ornament.
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| is bountiful and where folks welcome you
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| | You carry more electronic gadgets on your
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| with warm apple pie and a smile. You want
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| | person than Radio Shack inventories.
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| the simple life.
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| | You drive to work past 'that same old
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| Over 1.6 million people moved to rural
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| | group of homeless people.'
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| communities during the first five years
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| | You smile and say, "Hi," to strangers
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| of this decade. Several stayed. This
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| | only because you know it screws with
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| migration continues - reinforced by
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| | their minds.
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| dozens of national and regional
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| | Your horse board expenses equal the Gross
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| periodicals presenting sanitized 'country
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| | National Product of Guatemala
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| chic' to millions of armchair rednecks.
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| | You're convinced you are invisible and
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| Having read a myriad of books and
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| | need two years of plastic surgery just so
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| magazines about goin' county, you are
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| | city gentlemen won't let the C-Store door
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| convinced it is for you. Why not?
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| | spring back in your face.
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| Editorials immerse you with prose of
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| | You pitch a fit when your favorite salad
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| serenity found. You are infatuated by the
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| | bar serves cheese made with
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| ideal of carvin' your own nitch in the
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| | non-vegetarian rennet, then drive the
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| wilderness, collectin' the morning eggs
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| | kids to Burgers Burgers Burgers.
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| and whittlin' on the porch swing each
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| | Your children spend more time in the TV
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| evening. Throughout the country,
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| | den than in treetops and you think that's
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| gentlemen greet women with the tip of a
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| | acceptable.
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| hat and a polite, "Howdy Mam." You long
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| | You get a building permit and three
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| to raise your children in a community
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| | estimates to hang a painting.
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| where graciousness abounds while folks
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| | Any chimes ringing? If so, remove
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| commune with nature in perfect harmony.
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| | yourself form Urbania immediately! Your
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| With each flip of the page of County Cool
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| | twig is at maximum contortion! Give the
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| Magazine you feel your stress level dip.
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| | country three years and you will stay.
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| Before you lapse completely into a coma,
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| | Transition is difficult, but once your
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| bear a few things in mind. Full-page
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| | up-tight attitude is vanquished, your
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| glossies of family reunions held beneath
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| | twig unbends. These are the indicators
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| towering, shabby-chic barns make for
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| | you are settling in to the 'Simple Life.'
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| better magazine copy than centerfolds of
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| | You're having your morning coffee. A cow
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| locals trying to avoid making eye contact
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| | walks through the front yard. You don't
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| with your U-Haul. Stylized black and
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| | own a cow. You sit down and drink your
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| whites of cowboys branding in the parched
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| | coffee.
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| mid-day sun sell better than snapshots of
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| | Shoes' matching each other is low on the
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| the Mayor's dead horses being left to rot
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| | list of daily priorities.
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| all summer long, directly in the center
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| | Your outhouse is not just a chic lawn
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| of town. Furthermore, triumphant tales of
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| | ornament.
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| battling the elements flow better than
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| | You save getting the chickens drunk for
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| ancient country septic lines. No one
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| | when you have houseguests.
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| knows why the media doesn't 'glam-up'
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| | You have no idea where your cell phone
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| peeing in your barn. It must just be a
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| | went, but the Border Collie is wearing
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| fickle public.
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| | your pager.
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| Fickle indeed. I for one moved my son
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| | You drive to work past 'that same old
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| from our life long home in San Diego to
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| | herd of buffalo'.
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| my birth state of South Dakota three
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| | Your bird feeder expenses are equivalent
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| times before it stuck. Each time I
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| | to the Gross National Product of Canada.
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| recoiled in under a year. Best friends,
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| | Elk mounts ordain the walls of your
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| scores of humanities, the Pacific surf
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| | favorite salad bar.
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| and Thai food are a lot to give up at one
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| | Your children spend more time in the
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| time. Harder still was the shattering of
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| | their tree house than in school.
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| my rose colored glasses.
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| | Yes, these are definitely telltale signs,
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| The secret to a successful relocation is
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| | you have lost that city pace. Although
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| knowing what to honestly expect so you
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| | you can never voluntarily raise your
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| can laugh cathartically when the
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| | stress level back to match city slickers,
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| inevitable bizarre scenarios emerge.
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| | you have not lost yourself completely.
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| Sudden disillusionment is rarely a
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| | Search the little places. Vestiges of
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| knee-slapper. Nonetheless, once adjusted,
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| | your past will appear. These are the
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| country life is closer to Nirvana than
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| | traits of an American Hybrid.
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| most get here on Earth. Thus, while
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| | While having your morning cappuccino, a
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| everyone else pumps pure country sunshine
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| | cow walks through the front yard. You
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| straight up your knickers, I consider it
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| | don't own a cow. You toss it a biscotti.
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| my obligation to provide balance to the
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| | You can't decide whether to paint the
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| Universe.
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| | walls of the outhouse in a contemporary
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| Almost daily I question my reasons for
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| | or impressionistic motif.
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| living in the hinterland. For these
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| | You use the word motif in the same
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| moments of apprehension, I maintain lists
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| | sentence with outhouse.
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| in my mind. My lists remind me both what
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| | You actually make homemade preserves -
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| drove me out of California and why I
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| | wild chokecherries with a boisterous
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| cannot abandon country life. A hardy dose
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| | zinfandel you picked up in Napa last
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| of big city burn out definitely came into
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| | season.
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| play. For starters, I realized I was so
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| | Mascara before milking.
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| sick of commuting I'd rather endure seven
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| | You winter in the gulf of Siam. You
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| months per year in an icebox with no
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| | summer in bib overalls.
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| sunlight than sit in another traffic jam.
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| | You smile and say, "Hi," to strangers
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| With that thought alone I was ready to
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| | only because you know it screws with
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| pull up my roots. I also decided to move.
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| | their minds.
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| In fact, developing a loathing of the
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| | You could never shoot a deer, but you can
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| Urban Jungle was vital to my eventual
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| | dress that sucker out in under two hours.
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| 'success' in relocating. In retrospect,
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| | You fence in a sarong and thongs. (This
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| my twig was definitely about to snap. Of
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| | one gets the neighbors talking.)
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| course, so many city folk run around with
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| | You frequently run to town for Hawaiian
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| fully bent twigs, we never realize the
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| | Tofu and Goat Chow.
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| contorted conditions of our existence.
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| | You have a different pair of hiking boots
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| That many people living in close
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| | for every occasion.
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| proximity, under the confines of
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| | Egyptian cotton sheets and a commissioned
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| excessive regulations, is the proverbial
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| | replica of Picasso's Woman with Three
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| pressure cooker.
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| | Breasts enclose the baby chickens being
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| Urbanites and recent country converts
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| | reared in your bedroom closet.
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| wondering if your view on life may be
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| | It's true, every day more and more of us
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| intensely contorted are welcome refer to
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| | are getting too screwed up to ever return
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| my lists. They provide perspective. For
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| | to the city. Still, for all our
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| example: Signs of how 'screwed-up' you
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| | differences country folk and city
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| may be would include the following.
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| | slickers posses one commonality. Neither
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| You're having your morning coffee, a cow
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| | group thinks twice about the US
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| walks through the front yard. You don't
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| | Government's Food Pyramid. I guess we
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| own a cow. You freak out, hit 911 and sue
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| | have to start somewhere.
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| the Meat Packers of America.
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