Even as I stretched my arms and shivered a little, the two wranglers threw down their tin plates with a clatter, mounted horses and rode away in the direction of the thousand acres or so known as the pasture.

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You thought something was funny when Dad donned his Oscar the Grouch suit and hopped in the trash can after the evening news, rope in hand.

We, ignorant of ourselves, / Beg often our own harms.