Yesterday, I was closed in our bedroom folding laundry with Anne. She really gets around these days with her little crab crawl, and so you really have to take precautions to prevent her escaping or otherwise getting into a life threatening situation.
I was watching Say Yes to the Dress as I folded, my favorite reality show guilty pleasure. As I bent to pick up an items, someone standing next to me handed me a shirt. Wait, WHAT?!
Yes, it was Anne, casually standing at the laundry basket, sorting clothes. Apparently she can pull herself up now. Which she then did with alarming regularity for the rest of the day, becoming better and better at it by the nanosecond.
OH SIGH.
Monday, December 19, 2011
Thursday, December 15, 2011
Christmas preparations winding down...sort of
My shopping isn't all done. My wrapping is nonexistent. And my knitting is still ongoing. But I persevere. Hope springs eternal.
Last night, as I feverishly worked on the second of my mother-in-law's socks while Mike and I watched tv, I came to a "funky spot." That's what happens when I've clearly done something wrong, but I can't figure out what. Being Type A, I absolutely hate when this happens.
I had this gap in the row below, and the stitches looked funny. My first thought was a dropped stitch, but nope. My count clearly showed that all stitches were accounted for and diligently looped up on my double pointed needles like good law-abiding citizens. I examined them carefully. Two of the stitches appeared to be in on the conspiracy, two purled ones in my knit 2 purl 2 rib for the cuff. Those purled stitches are always a little cagey, no? They always seem to be up to something. They just didn't look right.
Taking a deep breath, I got out my crochet hook and dropped those 2 stitches on purpose. I figured I could pick them back up, tighten them, and normalize them. Off they came.
Hum. They looked twisty or something. I painstakingly unraveled them one row so that I could rework them with my hook. Now they looked even weirder. The stitches themselves appeared rejuvenated by the introduction of some air into their lives, but the yarn that I pulled out was looped all funny.
I sat there frowning at it for a solid 5 minutes, and did try to pick them back up. Great, they looked even worse. I realized I was going to have to pull back a row or two. The thought of knitting backwards to get to that point gave me a headache, so I came up with the ingenious idea of taking my needles out (A MISTAKE!), pulling the rows back, and then trying to put the stitches all back onto the needles. It's the crocheter in me; when a mistake comes to the surface, the instinct to just pull, pull, pull bursts to the surface. That, and the vodka/Diet Coke that I'd just had.
So that's what I did, and please, please gentle reader, learn from my mistake. I got past the error, but then the ribbing was all in and outy and absolutely impossible to get back onto the needles. I sucked in a deep breath and resisted the urge to say a VERY bad word. Mike could sense my tension and tried to encourage me, but the deal was down. I had to frog.
As I stared at the pile of unraveled yarn (I had been nearly done with the cuff, probably 4 -5 inches of ribbing) I let my emotions come to the surface.
"I'm SO SICK of all of this Christmas knitting!! WHY did I do this to myself?! I haven't knit anything for myself in months, and I'm tired of knitting only because I have to! I hate this!"
There's the Christmas spirit for you. Mike fixed me another drink, and I gathered my wits enough to cast on again. I worked steadily until we were ready to go up to bed, and re-knit about quarter of what I had to pull out. This morning, I knit probably another quarter. Tonight, I should be able to catch up to where I was when the disaster occurred.
*narrows eyes resentfully*
Later, I realized what I'd done wrong - when I picked the sock up to work on it, I'd started working in the wrong direction. One would think that I'd be beyond such mistakes at this stage of my knitting career, but nope, a little humility is good for all of us, I suppose. And realizing that I could have just gone backwards for that 1 row and easily fixed the error only made me feel porkier.
Next year, I really hope that I've learned my lesson. Gift knitting is wonderful, and I know I'll continue to do it, but I *cannot* take on quite so much. Just a few knitted gifts per year.
Otherwise, it sucks the joy right out of the spirit of giving.
Last night, as I feverishly worked on the second of my mother-in-law's socks while Mike and I watched tv, I came to a "funky spot." That's what happens when I've clearly done something wrong, but I can't figure out what. Being Type A, I absolutely hate when this happens.
I had this gap in the row below, and the stitches looked funny. My first thought was a dropped stitch, but nope. My count clearly showed that all stitches were accounted for and diligently looped up on my double pointed needles like good law-abiding citizens. I examined them carefully. Two of the stitches appeared to be in on the conspiracy, two purled ones in my knit 2 purl 2 rib for the cuff. Those purled stitches are always a little cagey, no? They always seem to be up to something. They just didn't look right.
Taking a deep breath, I got out my crochet hook and dropped those 2 stitches on purpose. I figured I could pick them back up, tighten them, and normalize them. Off they came.
Hum. They looked twisty or something. I painstakingly unraveled them one row so that I could rework them with my hook. Now they looked even weirder. The stitches themselves appeared rejuvenated by the introduction of some air into their lives, but the yarn that I pulled out was looped all funny.
I sat there frowning at it for a solid 5 minutes, and did try to pick them back up. Great, they looked even worse. I realized I was going to have to pull back a row or two. The thought of knitting backwards to get to that point gave me a headache, so I came up with the ingenious idea of taking my needles out (A MISTAKE!), pulling the rows back, and then trying to put the stitches all back onto the needles. It's the crocheter in me; when a mistake comes to the surface, the instinct to just pull, pull, pull bursts to the surface. That, and the vodka/Diet Coke that I'd just had.
So that's what I did, and please, please gentle reader, learn from my mistake. I got past the error, but then the ribbing was all in and outy and absolutely impossible to get back onto the needles. I sucked in a deep breath and resisted the urge to say a VERY bad word. Mike could sense my tension and tried to encourage me, but the deal was down. I had to frog.
As I stared at the pile of unraveled yarn (I had been nearly done with the cuff, probably 4 -5 inches of ribbing) I let my emotions come to the surface.
"I'm SO SICK of all of this Christmas knitting!! WHY did I do this to myself?! I haven't knit anything for myself in months, and I'm tired of knitting only because I have to! I hate this!"
There's the Christmas spirit for you. Mike fixed me another drink, and I gathered my wits enough to cast on again. I worked steadily until we were ready to go up to bed, and re-knit about quarter of what I had to pull out. This morning, I knit probably another quarter. Tonight, I should be able to catch up to where I was when the disaster occurred.
*narrows eyes resentfully*
Later, I realized what I'd done wrong - when I picked the sock up to work on it, I'd started working in the wrong direction. One would think that I'd be beyond such mistakes at this stage of my knitting career, but nope, a little humility is good for all of us, I suppose. And realizing that I could have just gone backwards for that 1 row and easily fixed the error only made me feel porkier.
Next year, I really hope that I've learned my lesson. Gift knitting is wonderful, and I know I'll continue to do it, but I *cannot* take on quite so much. Just a few knitted gifts per year.
Otherwise, it sucks the joy right out of the spirit of giving.
Wednesday, December 14, 2011
We lived through the concert, and Christmas knitting reaches a fevered pitch
We made it through the Christmas concert alive. We got both children to the church in one piece (Anne crying, Henry saying he was nervous). Anne flirted with the people in the pew behind us for a time, and then began fussing just as the concert was starting. After guzzling 4 ounces of pumped milk, she fussed some more before falling asleep. Hank went up for his big moment of glory, singing "Sweetly Slumber" with his class, which I have to admit, wasn't the best Christmas song I've ever heard. But certainly, the children singing it were adorable. Anne slept for the remainder of the concert, and Hank looked pink-cheeked. When we left, Hank felt relieved in the car while Anne howled all the way home. Mike got Hank into bed and I nursed Anne down. Thankfully, both went to sleep with a minimum of fuss.
After that, Mike and I both settled in happily with drinks to chat and watch some tv together. I pulled my latest gift sock out, and I could see Mike giving it the evil eye. I know that he teasingly thinks that my affections have transferred from their rightful place with him to my knitting.
"Oh, do you want to move down here..."
"I'M ON A DEADLINE."
Which, you know, I am. But I compromised by working on my sock for a bit and then putting it away for some quality cuddling time. My husband is very cute.
Totally unrelated to the above, but it was on my mind (I do this a lot), I thought I'd write just a short spell on breastfeeding. Anne will be 7 months old on Sunday, and I haven't written about it in awhile, so I thought it would be worthwhile. We're still very much nursing. She does get 1 solid "meal" per day, since she was 5 months old or so. It's either a fruit or vegetable. And she likes them, for the most part. She nurses the rest of the time, or is fed pumped milk by her daddy during the day.
With Henry, I loved nursing. I never considered quitting prior to a year, and was happy to go to 18 months if he had kept going. He ended up weaning around 15 months. I was devastated when he did so. With Anne? It's a bit different. :) I do also love nursing her, but she's a LOT more difficult to nurse than her brother. Read: PAINFUL. I've had cracked and bleeding nipples with her, and soreness I never experienced with Henry. Her current thing is to push against me with her hand and pull in the opposite direction with her mouth as she nurses. As you can imagine, this is a great big OW. I feel like I'm wrestling with her a lot as she nurses. Although I enjoy the closeness I share with her, and I'll be honest, breastfeeding is actually *easier* than formula feeding since you don't have to mix anything (and you wash a lot less bottles), and certainly cheaper, I'm just not enjoying it the way I did last time. She's also still a spit up machine when she nurses, whereas when she takes a bottle, nary a bit of spittle in sight.
I set my original goal at 6 months, and we've surpassed that. My new goal is 8 months. I'll re-evaluate then. I'll go monthly at that point. But I can tell, I'm getting ready to wean her. Breastfeeding should be mutually desired, and right now, it's not so much a warm and fuzzy on my end. Pumping is also wearing thin. I have to pump twice a day at work, and it's a bit of a production. It's not terrible, and I would never consider not breastfeeding at all (no judging, I just want to breastfeed my babies for at least 6 months) but I'm ready to cut her loose.
She's terribly, terribly cute though.
After that, Mike and I both settled in happily with drinks to chat and watch some tv together. I pulled my latest gift sock out, and I could see Mike giving it the evil eye. I know that he teasingly thinks that my affections have transferred from their rightful place with him to my knitting.
"Oh, do you want to move down here..."
"I'M ON A DEADLINE."
Which, you know, I am. But I compromised by working on my sock for a bit and then putting it away for some quality cuddling time. My husband is very cute.
Totally unrelated to the above, but it was on my mind (I do this a lot), I thought I'd write just a short spell on breastfeeding. Anne will be 7 months old on Sunday, and I haven't written about it in awhile, so I thought it would be worthwhile. We're still very much nursing. She does get 1 solid "meal" per day, since she was 5 months old or so. It's either a fruit or vegetable. And she likes them, for the most part. She nurses the rest of the time, or is fed pumped milk by her daddy during the day.
With Henry, I loved nursing. I never considered quitting prior to a year, and was happy to go to 18 months if he had kept going. He ended up weaning around 15 months. I was devastated when he did so. With Anne? It's a bit different. :) I do also love nursing her, but she's a LOT more difficult to nurse than her brother. Read: PAINFUL. I've had cracked and bleeding nipples with her, and soreness I never experienced with Henry. Her current thing is to push against me with her hand and pull in the opposite direction with her mouth as she nurses. As you can imagine, this is a great big OW. I feel like I'm wrestling with her a lot as she nurses. Although I enjoy the closeness I share with her, and I'll be honest, breastfeeding is actually *easier* than formula feeding since you don't have to mix anything (and you wash a lot less bottles), and certainly cheaper, I'm just not enjoying it the way I did last time. She's also still a spit up machine when she nurses, whereas when she takes a bottle, nary a bit of spittle in sight.
I set my original goal at 6 months, and we've surpassed that. My new goal is 8 months. I'll re-evaluate then. I'll go monthly at that point. But I can tell, I'm getting ready to wean her. Breastfeeding should be mutually desired, and right now, it's not so much a warm and fuzzy on my end. Pumping is also wearing thin. I have to pump twice a day at work, and it's a bit of a production. It's not terrible, and I would never consider not breastfeeding at all (no judging, I just want to breastfeed my babies for at least 6 months) but I'm ready to cut her loose.
She's terribly, terribly cute though.
Tuesday, December 13, 2011
O Christmas Tree! Hank's Christmas concert tonight
"Hank Honey, are you excited about your Christmas concert toni..."
"NO!"
Ok then.
"Why not, Honey?"
"I don't like the song we're singing." *scowl face*
"Well surely you're singing more than one song. Which one don't you like?"
*garbled answer involving the word "sleepy"*
"Oh, well what about the Christmas songs that you're singing?"
"That IS a Christmas song!"
Well. Whatever. Not sure what's going on there, but Henry definitely woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning.
Anne on the other hand, was all chirpy and happy this morning as she pooed right in the middle of my getting ready for work preparations. Now that she's eating solids, LOOK OUT! That significantly changes what comes out the other end. HOLY SMOKES.
Unfortunately, I don't anticipate that she'll be all smiles tonight during the concert. She gets miserable right around 6 pm when she gets tired, and I expect there will be lots of sobbing and pacing around the back of the church with her tonight.
Oh sigh.
"NO!"
Ok then.
"Why not, Honey?"
"I don't like the song we're singing." *scowl face*
"Well surely you're singing more than one song. Which one don't you like?"
*garbled answer involving the word "sleepy"*
"Oh, well what about the Christmas songs that you're singing?"
"That IS a Christmas song!"
Well. Whatever. Not sure what's going on there, but Henry definitely woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning.
Anne on the other hand, was all chirpy and happy this morning as she pooed right in the middle of my getting ready for work preparations. Now that she's eating solids, LOOK OUT! That significantly changes what comes out the other end. HOLY SMOKES.
Unfortunately, I don't anticipate that she'll be all smiles tonight during the concert. She gets miserable right around 6 pm when she gets tired, and I expect there will be lots of sobbing and pacing around the back of the church with her tonight.
Oh sigh.
Monday, December 12, 2011
The inevitable happened...

Anne is plunked in the middle of the living room floor playing as I knit (I'm trying to meet a deadline...) on the couch nearby.
Anne crawls to the coffee table.
Anne gets on her knees and tries to pull herself up into a standing position via the coffee table.
The Catholic Librarian sighs in distress. The remote controls are not going to be safe for long.
"What are you doing over there? Wait, Anne, no..."
*RRRRRRIIIIIIPPPPP!*
Anne surveys foam corner protector, previously held in place with double-sided tape, and holds it aloft in her chubby fist, triumphantly.
Corner protector is stuffed unceremoniously into her mouth.
When corner protector is taken away from her, she moves onto biting the edge of the table itself.
Oh sigh.
Thursday, December 8, 2011
Are partially completed mittens reproducing in my knitting bag?
This lovely feast of the Immaculate Conception I'm pondering more than ever the approach of Christmas. I went to Mass this morning at my parish which is just the perfect way to start the day.
I've been all worry-warty about finishing up my shopping, since I've really barely begun. We can only buy so much per pay period, so that has limited me. But my knitted items (the list that was modified when reality kicked in, that is) are going well and are nearly complete. I'm finishing up a pair of mittens right now, and I have 2 partially completed pairs of socks after that. Oh sigh. That that IS doable, as opposed to my original list.
I still have so much other gift selecting to do though, and for the first time ever, the thought of going to the stores right now totally turns me off. There are just cars and people *everywhere* and I quickly feel flustered and grumpy. Not exactly the Christmas spirit I was looking for. Today, I was able to use some promotion codes and order some items online with free shipping. I was happy about that since the reason I often avoid online shopping is because I loathe paying for shipping. But there's still a lot to do. Not to mention preparing for hosting Christmas dinner. That will involve lots of the patented Tiffany Tornadoing.
But tomorrow! Oh, sweet, sweet tomorrow. I'm taking the entire day off tomorrow to meet with my beloved friend Karen from my knitting group who moved away for a (albeit wonderful) job and left us utterly bereft without her. She's coming to town, and the entire knitting group is getting together for a knitting extravaganza involving mimosas, knitting, lunch, a gift exchange, and much chatting. I'm SUPER EXCITED.
*beams*
I've been all worry-warty about finishing up my shopping, since I've really barely begun. We can only buy so much per pay period, so that has limited me. But my knitted items (the list that was modified when reality kicked in, that is) are going well and are nearly complete. I'm finishing up a pair of mittens right now, and I have 2 partially completed pairs of socks after that. Oh sigh. That that IS doable, as opposed to my original list.
I still have so much other gift selecting to do though, and for the first time ever, the thought of going to the stores right now totally turns me off. There are just cars and people *everywhere* and I quickly feel flustered and grumpy. Not exactly the Christmas spirit I was looking for. Today, I was able to use some promotion codes and order some items online with free shipping. I was happy about that since the reason I often avoid online shopping is because I loathe paying for shipping. But there's still a lot to do. Not to mention preparing for hosting Christmas dinner. That will involve lots of the patented Tiffany Tornadoing.
But tomorrow! Oh, sweet, sweet tomorrow. I'm taking the entire day off tomorrow to meet with my beloved friend Karen from my knitting group who moved away for a (albeit wonderful) job and left us utterly bereft without her. She's coming to town, and the entire knitting group is getting together for a knitting extravaganza involving mimosas, knitting, lunch, a gift exchange, and much chatting. I'm SUPER EXCITED.
*beams*
Wednesday, December 7, 2011
No, we don't have a dog...

...and *obviously* children are very different from dogs. But my family always had a dog when I was growing up, and I can't help but be amused by the similarities that present themselves at times.
"No Honey, don't eat the garbage!"
"Anne, I really think it's a bad idea for you to crawl under my chair like that..." *thwack* "WAHHHHHHHHHH!"
"If you're going to act like that on the couch, you're going to have to sit on the floor!"
"Uh oh, what's that smell? Oh God, what's that *on the floor*?!"
"Anne spit up, let me wipe...No, no, don't play in it!!"
"Anne, no, let me have that. No, NO, that can't go in your mouth..."
And my personal favorite:
"It's too quiet in here, what on earth are they up to?!"
Tuesday, December 6, 2011
I have a really, *really* good husband
The other day, I was feeling flustered at home, trying to get a bunch of cleaning chores done while also managing child demands. I went upstairs for something, and suddenly I hear the vacuum cleaner running. It was Mike, vacuuming the entire downstairs. And I wondered to myself where Anne was, because last I saw her, she was plunked in the middle of the kitchen floor, itching to be on the move at any given second. So I hurry downstairs, to make sure she hadn't gotten into anything.
No Anne in the kitchen. I quickly check the adjacent dining room and living room. No Anne. Mike's current vacuuming is in the downstairs guest room/office, so I rush in there. And there he is, carefully moving the vacuum cleaner across the rug in there with one hand, Anne tucked onto his hip with the other, her cherubic-like cheeks on full chub mode, eyes wide as saucers.
It made me think of a commercial I saw once featuring a NASCAR driver, in which a woman falls asleep exhausted from her household responsibilities, and dreams about what she would do with her favorite driver. And what she dreams about is him cooking dinner, washing her car, and vacuuming the carpet with a melting down toddler stowed away under his arm. It always made me smile, as did the scene I walked in on in our guest room.
These are the things that make for a strong marriage. :)
No Anne in the kitchen. I quickly check the adjacent dining room and living room. No Anne. Mike's current vacuuming is in the downstairs guest room/office, so I rush in there. And there he is, carefully moving the vacuum cleaner across the rug in there with one hand, Anne tucked onto his hip with the other, her cherubic-like cheeks on full chub mode, eyes wide as saucers.
It made me think of a commercial I saw once featuring a NASCAR driver, in which a woman falls asleep exhausted from her household responsibilities, and dreams about what she would do with her favorite driver. And what she dreams about is him cooking dinner, washing her car, and vacuuming the carpet with a melting down toddler stowed away under his arm. It always made me smile, as did the scene I walked in on in our guest room.
These are the things that make for a strong marriage. :)
Monday, December 5, 2011
Dream Tiffany can't add...
Last night Anne was up every 2-3 hours. ! I know, not pleasant. But she has 2 new baby teeth to show for it. Mike and I have been taking turns settling her down by snuggling on the couch, and last night was Mike's turn. So, around 4 am, I was all alone in our bed and actually fell into a light sleep...
Whereupon I had a dream that I remember. This doesn't happen all that often, although it does happen more now than before I had kids (that "light sleep" thing). And in the dream, I was pregnant. Given that I have a 6 month old, this dream does fall just a hair into the scary category. So, I was pregnant, and I found out that I was having a boy, although Mike didn't know and I didn't want him to find out since he likes to be surprised. This is all very normal in dream world apparently.
Anyway, in the dream world, Dream Tiffany knew that she already had 2 children, a boy and a girl, just like in real life. And the boy was Henry. Yet Anne was nowhere to be found, and I had this mysterious second male child named Elijah. And I was heavily pregnant with this new baby boy. So...that's actually *4* children, no? But yet I kept calling the baby I was carrying "my third."
And in the dream, we were real happy about the baby (of course) but still a tad nervous since we hadn't really expected to have a "third." Perhaps Dream Tiffany and Dream Mike were having difficulties because they can't perform simple math? We obviously couldn't keep track of how many children we actually had. So maybe "peak day plus 3" was just too much for them and that's how they wound up in this predicament.
Who knows? Anyway, I told Mike about the dream later, and his eyes widened considerably at the mention of pregnant Dream Tiffany. Luckily, in real life, we can both add, so I think we're good.
Whereupon I had a dream that I remember. This doesn't happen all that often, although it does happen more now than before I had kids (that "light sleep" thing). And in the dream, I was pregnant. Given that I have a 6 month old, this dream does fall just a hair into the scary category. So, I was pregnant, and I found out that I was having a boy, although Mike didn't know and I didn't want him to find out since he likes to be surprised. This is all very normal in dream world apparently.
Anyway, in the dream world, Dream Tiffany knew that she already had 2 children, a boy and a girl, just like in real life. And the boy was Henry. Yet Anne was nowhere to be found, and I had this mysterious second male child named Elijah. And I was heavily pregnant with this new baby boy. So...that's actually *4* children, no? But yet I kept calling the baby I was carrying "my third."
And in the dream, we were real happy about the baby (of course) but still a tad nervous since we hadn't really expected to have a "third." Perhaps Dream Tiffany and Dream Mike were having difficulties because they can't perform simple math? We obviously couldn't keep track of how many children we actually had. So maybe "peak day plus 3" was just too much for them and that's how they wound up in this predicament.
Who knows? Anyway, I told Mike about the dream later, and his eyes widened considerably at the mention of pregnant Dream Tiffany. Luckily, in real life, we can both add, so I think we're good.
Friday, December 2, 2011
Off to an action-packed Advent
One of the things that I love about having Henry in a Catholic school is what he came home with yesterday. A giant chain of construction paper rings, a little single decade rosary, a sheet of prayers with a calendar, and some explanatory paperwork. For an Advent project, we're supposed to hang up his chain, and each night remove one of them counting down to Christmas, while saying the enclosed prayers. Each day, Hank is to color in the appropriate square on the calendar showing that we said the prayers and kept up with the Advent chain. It's very cute.
We've also put out his much beloved chocolate Advent calendar, as well as our wood one. I'm still struggling with the ill-fitting candles in our Advent wreath, mew. I'm going to head to the Catholic store with Hank tomorrow to get some replacement candles. I read a trick online about softening the wax at the bottom of the candle to fit the taper more properly into the holder securely. We'll see how that goes.
Hank is very chagrined about the fact that a very mobile Anne has taken a real shine to his Fisher Price nativity set, which he looks forward to putting out every year. There are lots of teary incidents in which Anne crab crawls over and immediately stuffs a shepherd into her mouth. Wise men go flying, lambs are everywhere, and Hank is scandalized. We don't have a lot of other location options for the nativity, so it either has to stay there or get put away. He's really good about sharing usually, but his nativity set is apparently sacred.
Well, in another Christmas tradition, I think I'm going to splurge and go to Starbucks for some sort of overpriced holiday-themed beverage. I don't usually pay $5 for what is essentially flavored coffee, but on chilly, snowy days like today, with a manuscript to read and write a review of, I think it's in order.
We've also put out his much beloved chocolate Advent calendar, as well as our wood one. I'm still struggling with the ill-fitting candles in our Advent wreath, mew. I'm going to head to the Catholic store with Hank tomorrow to get some replacement candles. I read a trick online about softening the wax at the bottom of the candle to fit the taper more properly into the holder securely. We'll see how that goes.
Hank is very chagrined about the fact that a very mobile Anne has taken a real shine to his Fisher Price nativity set, which he looks forward to putting out every year. There are lots of teary incidents in which Anne crab crawls over and immediately stuffs a shepherd into her mouth. Wise men go flying, lambs are everywhere, and Hank is scandalized. We don't have a lot of other location options for the nativity, so it either has to stay there or get put away. He's really good about sharing usually, but his nativity set is apparently sacred.
Well, in another Christmas tradition, I think I'm going to splurge and go to Starbucks for some sort of overpriced holiday-themed beverage. I don't usually pay $5 for what is essentially flavored coffee, but on chilly, snowy days like today, with a manuscript to read and write a review of, I think it's in order.
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