You Can Take the Girl Outta Manhattan...

Yes, I was one of those New York City gals for over thirty-three years and rather proud of it.

So, how did I end up HERE in the wilderness three years ago?

That's the operative question. If I knew then that this is where I'll end up, OMG, I think I would've taken one of my Manolo Blahniks and bludgeoned myself to death.

Although I love the serenity of the relative isolation of this agric-community where I currently reside, there are some Manhattan habits that I'm reluctant to give up. I've already thrown out weekly mani/pedis, shaving for 6 months a year (I need all the body heat I can get for those 20 below 0 weeks), styling my hair (well, I was never really good at it to start off with, a chronic battle), make-up, matching jewelry and let's not forget the latest in designer clothing. I've got closets of gorgeous designer wear that I pull out for social events here. Sometimes they don't match my rubber boots.

Well, I do admit that I wear my stilettos as often as I can. They really don't go with my outfits and let me tell you, scrubbing the mud off the heels can be a bitch. Still, it's a 40 year habit...

The last time I was in New York City was to see my now ex-beau. He laughed when he saw me.

"Why are you laughing?" I asked.

"You look like a country girl."

"How so?" Even though I wore designer clothing, jewelry and make-up, I lost that Manhattan polish. That veneer of sophistication.

That's when I realized, once you go country, it's hard to come back.

Me, December 27, 2012 at the local Post Office. Cute, right?

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