We stopped at Cotton Falls for lunch, at a place called Emma Chase cafe. There we learned that there is a condition called "Flaccid eardrum," and that not everyone in the midwest is a fan of republicans. Also we had the most delicious peach pie ever. We walked around the little town for a while (compelled by our server to go to the local arts center) but our favorite stop (besides the garage where we bought ice from some very lovely young men) was in the mercantile, where the woman behind the counter shared with us a saying which her husband's father used to say about lanky young men: "He looks like he traded legs with a giraffe and got cheated out of his ass."
How am I ever going to refrain from using that line?
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