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Last week included one night during which Carla had a bout of stomach virus (why must barfing inevitably happen at night?) and I slept a total of 2 hours and 20 minutes, one night during which I spent NO JOKE $9 (NINE) American dollars on mangoes because three of them were rotten on the inside and yet it was my anniversary and I had a beautiful piece of fish and I REFUSED to make something different than the recipe I’d planned (yes, I know it’s probably my own fault for buying non-local, not-in-season produce but I need my fresh fruits and veg, people!), and a night where a (tiny, non-threatening, and probably very cold) caterpillar crawled out of a green pepper and made my dinner very one-sided, pepper wise (I like to have an equal amount of red and green peppers).

So I think you will empathize with me when I say that I feel really crabby about making dinner (and just in general). Despite the crabbiness, dinner doesn’t make itself.

One day this week we are going out to dinner with friends, and another day we are going to an afternoon football game so I’m not sure if we will eat at the stadium or not. Either way, I’m not going to want to make a Real Dinner when we get home, so I am planning something that will easily meld into future weeks if we decide not to cook it.

Oh and look at that: this takes us right up to Christmas Eve, so I will need to figure out what I am serving for dinner on the 24th, 25th, and 26th. Sounds like a separate shopping trip, if you ask me!

Meals for the week of December 18 to December 24

  • Tacos

Note: I think tacos are my favorite food.

 

Note: I may end up swapping the zucchini noodles with the side for a different meal… the flavor profiles might be way too different for this to be a good pairing.

Note: This is one of my three favorite stir fry recipes. SO GOOD. As with literally all stir fries, I make it with red and green bell peppers. I also throw in some broccoli and some zucchini if I’m feeling fancy.  I also like to throw in some peas, but my husband is not crazy about them so I usually leave them out. By the way, you can make this without kaffir lime leaves — just squeeze some lime in at the end. I can get them at a local Asian supermarket, and I love the subtle citrusy essence they add to this meal.

 

Note: Over time, I have HEAVILY adapted this recipe. I use boneless skinless chicken breasts. I put in a whole head of garlic, and I sauté the garlic and onion before adding them to slow cooker. For the liquid, I use 1/2 cup lemon juice, 1/2 cup wine, and I also deglaze the onion/garlic sauté pan with an additional 1/4 cup of wine and 1/2 cup chicken stock. The sauce is pretty yummy and I usually like to sop it up with some couscous, per the Martha Stewart recipe linked above (although all that link says about the couscous is to “prepare it per the package instructions.” Gee, thanks.).

We will also be making zimtsterne over the weekend, which are delicious almond-y (and gluten free, if that matters to you!) cookies that my husband discovered last year. Santa gets hungry, yo.

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One of the little things I find so pleasing about Thanksgiving is learning what everybody likes to eat on Thanksgiving. (This applies to all holidays, honestly.) Because I can’t stand ANYTHING besides the mashed potatoes and gravy, I am so charmed to hear people wax poetic about the dressing or express deep-seated passion for corn casserole.

It’s so fun and delightful to learn about how other people do the Very Same Things you do, isn’t it? I just love that.

That delight extends to everyday food, too. I am so curious to know what other people make for themselves/their families. There are so many different things to make! Just for dinner! And I find it rather marvelous that my husband and I have our Old Standbys and preferred flavor/ingredient combinations… while you might – probably, in fact! – have totally different things that you turn to every week.

To make what may seem like a change of subject but is closely linked in my brain: I felt so heartened by the suggestions on my most recent meal planning postthat I have soldiered on for many months. I downloaded a recipe/shopping list app that I still haven’t really gotten the hang of, but aside from that, I’ve just been going on as before: long lists of recipes on my phone and on my computer; an unwieldy email chain chronicling my week-over-week meal plans; not infrequent despair that my family’s desire to eat regular meals – much like dishwashing and laundry – never ends.

Well, now I am going to try something new: posting my meal plans on this here blog. New to me, that is; I enjoy many blogs that regularly post their weekly meal plans and have been reading them and getting inspiration from them for years.

Perhaps you will find this wildly boring; in which case, perhaps ignore Tuesday posts (I go shopping on Tuesdays). Or you could probably just wait a few weeks until I grow weary of this particular project.

But perhaps you will find inspiration among my meals. Or at the very least, a little frisson of delight that we are so similar or so very different.

Meals for the Week of November 27 through December 3

  • Pre-packaged marinated pork chops with broccoli

Follow Up: We have another package of these pork chops, so I will have to eat them again. They weren’t bad, just a bit bland.

Follow Up: This continues to be delicious. I think next time I will do an extra onion.

Follow Up: A good, easy dish. I roasted everything at the same time for about 30 minutes, and then broiled the pork for another five. I added garlic cloves to the root vegetables and my husband did not like them — he said they overpower the subtle flavor of the parsnips.

Follow Up: I did in fact serve these with black beans on the side. These turned out to be pretty tasty, although the chunky nature of the canned chiles is not appealing to me. Also, this was WAY more complicated than it should have been: I needed three separate pots to cook everything, plus the roasting dish, plus the bowl in which I blended the second can of chiles — and that doesn’t even count the sheet pan on which I baked the chicken. If I can find a way to modify it so that it’s not so multi-steppy, maybe I’ll do it again… I wonder if it would be good if I simply mixed the chicken and white beans together in a bowl and used that alone as a filling? If I only had to make the sauce, I might do this again.

Follow Up: Delicious. I used some zucchini noodles instead of bean sprouts, which was pretty good.

Follow Up: This continues to be easy and delicious. The worst part is trying to time the beans to be done at the same time as the salmon.

Follow Up: Somehow I totally screwed up the spice level. This time, I used three tablespoons of each spice (except salt — 1 tsp, and cardamon — scant 1 tbsp) and it was WAY too overpowering. My husband and I couldn’t even finish it. And it was really salty. Maybe do 1 to 2 tablespoons of each spice next time, a half tablespoon of cardamom, and a half teaspoon of salt?

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Giveaway Results!

I mean, could this giveaway have worked out any better?! Kimmylovescooking and Jennifer, please email me your addresses at lifeofadoctorswife [at] gmail and I will send you your books!

 

 

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It’s been a long, long while since I’ve done a randomosity post. But random topics still burble to the surface, so let’s get them all out in the open.

Fifty-one weeks of the year, I really enjoy living on this particular street, in this particular house. We live on a quiet cul-de-sac that is close but not too close to a main intersection in an urban-leaning suburb of a mid-size city. I feel like we get the neighborhoody aspects of living in the suburbs, but have plenty of businesses and restaurants and ice cream shops nearby. And it’s quiet. I realize I said that one sentence back, but it’s important. There’s not a huge amount of action, beyond the teenagers playing basketball across the street. The traffic is minimal.

But one week of the year, a business that resides (lives? exists?) on an adjoining street holds an event that draws people from near and far. So for the duration of the event – not quite a week, but close enough that I will count it as a full week, for complaining’s sake – our street is busy. Lots of cars driving down it, to check out the event. Or to try to leave the event, without realizing that our street has no outlet. Or to park on the side of the street before hiking back to the event venue. The event lasts late into the evening, so there are cars driving and people talking excitedly and people beeping their horns as they engage their remote locks well past ten. Is event starting to look a little wacko, as words go, or is it just me? By day two, I begin to go crazy. Carla is a fairly deep sleeper, but I get that crazed newborn-parent feel of, SHHHH, you are being TOO LOUD, there is a BABY SLEEPING, and there is nothing I can do about it.

I don’t like it, is what I’m saying. It makes me cranky. It makes me feel wary of talking to anyone while we’re outside, which we are a lot at this time of year. It makes me double and triple check the locks on the doors (because people heading to the event are super likely to be burglars/murderers) (no). It makes me feel like whispering and ducking past windows and uncomfortably aware of the proximity of my bedroom to the street.

I will be glad when this year’s event ends.

 

We have a new addition to our household. A new baby deer. Its mother leaves it in a snug little bundle of white spots between our deck and the azalea bushes.

Fawn 1

Baby deer!

This year, Carla spotted the fawn first. And, being a child who loves animals with a passion that makes her literally vibrate with the desire to pet and hug and adopt, she cannot stop thinking about the fawn. This has made it rather difficult to enjoy our backyard; she is constantly hopping out of her seat at lunch or dinner to go peek at the fawn. Or, instead of playing in the yard, she is peeking at the fawn. Or, instead of doing anything at all other than peeking at the fawn, she is peeking at the fawn.

She wants to show it a pinecone. (It won’t care.) She wants to share her ham with it. (No.) She wants to bring it up on the deck to show it an ant that is crawling as quickly away from Carla as its legs can carry it. (No.)

We have had lots of conversations about deer being wild animals, and being especially careful around baby animals, because their mothers will be protective. And how even though deer are so pretty and docile looking, they can bite and kick.

This has sunk in a bit further in some areas than others; Carla still wants to pet the fawn (no; wild animal). But she refuses to go into the backyard by herself just in case the mommy deer is there and wants to bite her or kick her or lick her (okay, good point; also it probably won’t lick you).

I don’t know why I continue to be disgruntled by the presence of baby deer in our yard. This has happened… every year since we’ve lived here? Our yard is a deer daycare. But each year, I feel annoyed at the mother deer for just abandoning her baby in my yard, where I then feel obligated to care for it. (I mean, insofar as “care for it” means peeking at it occasionally, keeping Carla away from it, and fretting about its safety.)

And I DO fret about it! We were moving some deck furniture around the other day, on the very deck against which the fawn was snuggled, and it was making a tremendous racket, and I commented to my husband that I hoped it wasn’t terrifying the poor creature. When the lawn service people arrived, I ran around in a panic, trying to replace my pajamas with clothes so that I could go out and warn them to stay away from the fawn’s azalea hidey-hole. We are having our deck refinished in a few weeks, and I am really hopeful that the fawn’s mother decides to take her on a field trip somewhere else so that the sanders and scrapers don’t scare the poor thing out of its spots.

Part of me feels so annoyed at the mother deer, for not picking a safer location to stow her offspring. But I suppose it is an urban deer, and this probably feels a whole lot safer than the corner of a busy intersection or the back of a schoolyard playground. And I suppose the fawn could always complain to its mother about the creature with the curly blond fur who keeps poking its face over the side of deck and waving pinecones at it, and suggest that they find a new daycare center.

Fawn 2

“Please stop peeking at me. You are making me very nervous/annoyed/camera shy.” – Fawn

As long as we’re talking about the backyard, we did get a playset. I loved all the comments and ideas, especially the suggestion to turn our weed patch into a beautiful garden (believe me! I would LOVE that!). Of course, being me, I continued to obsessively research and read reviews and bother people with questions. In the end, we concluded that a playset is the right decision for us. Time will tell, I suppose. To tell you the truth, I think the playset is really for ME. It will be so much more convenient to throw Carla in the backyard than to schlep her to a playground when she is overcome by the need to swing. And we can host playdates MUCH more comfortably if there is something for the kids to do outside. So I’M excited about it.

 

I’ve been on the hunt for a few very specific items of clothing lately. One is The Perfect Skirt, for which I continue searching. Let us take a gauzy look through time at one I had in college: white, a lineny blend, cut just above the knee, a-line. THAT is the skirt I am looking for. It was the ideal cut/shape for my shape/cut. It was a nice summery, neutral color. It was a casual material, which I am REALLY interested in; I have plenty of This Would Be Fine at the Office kinds of dresses/skirts; I really want some This Is Cute But Totally Casual Enough for the Playground or Library Story Time options. But I have yet to find it. I bought this skirt from Nordstrom, and despite being adorable in the online pictures, it was NOT The Perfect Skirt and I have since returned it.

Nordstrom skirt

Photo from Nordstrom.com

Another item I am seeking, in bulk, perhaps, is Rear-End-Covering Shirts. I already have a few that are dressier, so right now I am looking for casual options. I have found some good ones, I think: this one from Athleta,

Rear end shirt Athleta

Photo from Athleta.com

…and this one from Loft. (I got the Loft version for, I think, $12. But now they are on sale for two for $18!)

Rear end shirt loft

Photo from Loft.com

But I find myself wanting moremoremore because a) I enjoy wearing leggings and b) my rear end is self-conscious. My trouble though is that shirts that seem to fit the bill either don’t actually cover my rear end (I am more generous in the backyard than 99% of the models modeling the “rear-end-covering” shirts), or they make me feel shlubby. I want casual-but-put-together, not rolled-out-of-bed-and-grabbed-my-husband’s-undergarment-off-the-floor. I guess a more accurate way to describe it is that I like my tops to have some shape to them. Yet, like The Perfect Skirt and The Perfect Jeans, it seems really hard to find something matching my specifications. So I’m snapping them up when I come across them.

 

The room mother for Carla’s preschool class collected money for a year-end gift for her teachers. The gifts were lovely and generous, and I was delighted to not have to come up with ideas for something her teachers would like and not throw away. But when Carla and I were leaving her classroom on the last day, one of the other parents brought in two large bags from a fancy store and handed one to each of Carla’s teachers.

Listen, Carla and I wrote personal messages in cards for each of her teachers. They went above and beyond for us this year, in many ways, and I wanted to express my gratitude in words in addition to submitting some cash to the group gift. So I acknowledge that maybe these other parents felt similarly, and wanted to really show the teachers how grateful they were.

Or, of course, maybe they didn’t participate in the group gift. Or maybe their love language is Gift Giving. Or maybe other justifying thoughts I can’t come up with.

My worry, of course, is that this is What You Do; you give money to the room mother for the group gift, and then you ALSO buy a personal gift for each teacher. Which seems ridiculous, but what do I know? So many tiny, unimportant-in-the-greater-scheme-of-things stresses related to Having a Child in School! I had no idea!

My desktop anthurium – which you may recall was purchased purely because I was looking for a red lamp – for accent moreso than for light – and couldn’t find one – has lost its… well, I suppose they are flowers? The red pretty rooster-face looking portions of the plant. There were two to begin with, and one darkened and crumpled a few months ago, and now the second is going the same way. I don’t know anything about anthuria, outside of the fact that I fed them with ice cubes. Well, I guess I did a rather poor job of even doing that, considering that they have chosen death over waiting to see if I will remember to ice them each week. So I have no idea if they will flower again, in time… or if I need to find another one. One of the things that made it so clear I needed to buy THIS anthurium was that it came in such a lovely bright red vase. I neither want to buy a new red-vased anthurium nor replant an anthurium in this vase. So I suppose I will stare hopefully at my remaining anthurium leaves and try to remember the weekly icing.

1 Anthurium

Photo from gardenknowhow.com

That’s it for now, Internet. What’s up with you?

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What is it about my brain that not only magnifies the awkwardness in a perfectly innocuous situation, but also dwells on it, for days afterward?

Well, that is what blogs are for, is it not?

I was at my favorite haunt, the grocery store, waiting at the deli for the lone deli slicer staff person to finish wrapping up another shopper’s Muenster. Carla was in school; it was early on a weekday, and the store was calm and nearly empty. The deli person asked what I needed, and I said “one third pound of honey ham, shaved please.”

And she poked around in the deli case, and said, “I have to go to the back to get a ham for you.”

Well, that was unusual. It took me a beat to recover, but then I tried to call after her because 1) I was sure she had misheard me and thought maybe I said some other ham; she hadn’t repeated “honey ham” and, more importantly and less revealing of the depth of my insecurities, 2) I could see an entire honey ham, right there in the case.

Well, of course I wondered whether maybe that was a display only honey ham. But, on the off chance it wasn’t, I didn’t want her to make a separate trip to the back.

But she had stopped just on the other side of the deli, and she was talking to someone anyway in a friendly fashion, so I called out, “Excuse me! Excuse me!” trying to get her attention.

A second deli person popped up out of nowhere and said, “Can I help you?” And I said, “The other woman was helping me, she said she had to go to the back to get a new honey ham, and I just wanted her to know that there’s a honey ham right here.”

But she interrupted me and said, “We have honey ham right here.” As though I were the one who had sent her colleague on such a frivolous errand.

“I know,” I said, smiling in a way I hoped conveyed that I was both conscious and conscientious, “I just wanted to let her know, so she didn’t have to run to the back for a honey ham when there is already one right here.”

And the woman said, “Yes, we have honey ham right here.” And blinked at me expectantly, awaiting, no doubt, my next nonsensical utterings. So now I’m struggling with wanting her to understand what I am saying and stop looking at me like I am asking her repeatedly whether I have a lobster attached to my face, but also maybe thinking she just didn’t hear me, but also not wanting to repeat myself a THIRD time, but also really wanting her to know the situation. Think of her colleague, seeking an unnecessary ham!

(The colleague was still chatting with her friend, which seemed to me a little callous; for all she knew, I was still standing there, anxiously awaiting ham.)

So I gave the second woman my order, and she grabbed some pre-cut (NOT shaved) ham from the case and then, perplexingly, said, “It’s only $1.99. Do you want more?”

Now, this ham is usually $6.99 a pound or something – I admit to not paying that much attention because a) I buy it infrequently and b) it’s really the only ham Carla eats, so I’m going to buy it anyway; it’s only a third of a pound – which is to say that I didn’t think she was referring to the per-pound cost of the ham. There’s a big board of daily specials on the counter, and the honey ham was not listed among them; I looked; it’s nice to know that you are being thrifty even if you aren’t doing so on purpose. I assumed that she was saying that my third of a pound was ringing up as $1.99, which, great. Sounds good. Why mention it at this point in the interaction?

So I said something brilliant, like, “I’m sorry?”

And she shook the ham at me and said, “It’s only $1.99. Do you want MORE HAM?”

Still not grasping anything really – I mean, how could I not still be reeling from the mistakenly absent ham? and the woman poised to – after her conversation, clearly – go fetch another? – I shook my head and said no thank you.

(Aside: If I need a third of a pound of ham, having it be less expensive doesn’t make me magically need more ham. I mean, I guess if I really wanted a POUND of ham, but knew that $6.99 wasn’t in my budget, then knowing it was $1.99 per pound might change the amount I would get. I don’t know. It’s like when you go to Dairy Queen, and you order a small slushie, and they say, “Drinks are half price between 2:00 and 4:00, do you want to get a large?” Well, no. I want a small. And I’m saving money because the small is also half price. If I get a larger size, the price also increases. A $3 small at half price is still cheaper than $5 large at half price. And yes, I get that I could be getting more for the original price I intended on paying but it still all strikes me as ODD. WHATEVER. I am sure it is a legitimate marketing strategy that works or it wouldn’t be so prevalent.)

We are back to me, rejecting the extra ham.

The deli person shrugged at me in a kind of “suit yourself” manner, and I took my ham and pointed to the other staff member – still chatting, I mean, the entire interaction took maybe 45 (interminable) seconds, but still – and said, “Will you let her know a) you took care of me and b) that she doesn’t need to go to the back for a whole new honey ham?”

And the second deli person turned to her colleague (who had just at that moment finally bid adieu to her long lost twin sister or the queen or whomever she was talking to all that time) and said, “Hey, there’s already honey ham in the case.” And the first woman laughed and shook her head and went to help some other poor ham-needing sap.

The end.

But no, not the end, because I am still thinking about it.

I cannot properly express to you how NEEDLESSLY and RIDICULOUSLY flustered I got during the course of this interaction!

And WHY, in the name of all the pigs who so graciously gave their lives for our deli needs, am I STILL THINKING about it, literally weeks later?

WHY? Who CARES? It’s just HAM.

It felt SO AWKWARD. To be misunderstood. To be misheard. To see a misapprehension occurring, and to be incapable of preventing it. To instead be misheard again and misinterpreted as someone lacking adequate brain function. To leave, finally, with ham that was not shaved as you wanted. At least it was only 66 cents. For the ham. The therapy this incident may require will likely cost much more.

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Towel Analogy Epiphany

Every time I wash the towels, I do it first thing in the morning, as I am leaving the house. I grab the towels in the bathroom I share with my husband, which includes a “bath mat” (which seems to me just to be a towel with a different name) and a hand towel alongside the three bath towels, then I grab the towel, bath mat, and hand towel from Carla’s bathroom, then I grab the hand towel from the half-bath downstairs, and the two dishtowels that hang above the sink. I throw everything into either an appropriate laundry bin or into the actual washing machine, set it to wash, and that’s that.

For many years, I did this as I was rushing out the door to work. Usually, Towel Day is a Monday. And Mondays my husband tries to take Carla to daycare. (He doesn’t do procedures Mondays, so his schedule begins later than it does most days.) But I would take those extra minutes of not dropping Carla off to get to work early, in hopes of making up for the days when daycare drop-off went horribly and I got to work a few minutes late.

What I’m saying is, is that I would REMOVE all the towels and begin the washing process. But that was where it ended. Later that evening, if I got to the bathroom first, I’d replace the towels. But sometimes I wouldn’t get there first, and instead it was my husband who would go to wash his hands or bathe our daughter or whatever, and find that all the towels were missing.

My husband has long grumbled about this. Why isn’t there a hand towel in the bathroom? Where is the bath mat? Etc etc etc.

And I have long grumbled back at him: You are perfectly capable of going into the linen closet and getting a fresh towel.

Internet, I went so far as to tell him to GET OVER IT the last time we exchanged grumbles on the subject!

And then I had An Epiphany!

The Missing Bath Towels are to my husband what Unreplaced Toilet Paper/Paper Towels are to me!

Oh, Internet. I am so ashamed! All these years, and I was metaphorically using the last of the toilet paper and leaving an empty cardboard tube for him to find!

And you can bet your sweet patoot that I would NOT be okay with “getting over it” if he left me empty paper towel and toilet paper holders every two weeks for years on end.

Excuse me, as I must prostrate myself at his feet and commence groveling.

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Swistle did a post today on her favorite mugs. A post I found fascinating, and so I have followed suit and am posting about MY favorite mugs.

(Sidebar: I was JUST THINKING about writing a post about my favorite mug this morning! Because of a different Swistle post, about using the good stuff. Because I keep worrying that my favorite mug is nearing the end of its life, and yet I keep using it because I love it. NOT using it would keep it safe, but I wouldn’t be able to enjoy it.)

Back to the NEW Swistle-based topic.

My favorites are “favorites” based on two criteria: 1. Sentimentality and 2. Size.

Here is the line up, with “most favorite” on the far left and “regular mug for comparison” on the far right.

IMG_3239.jpg

Mug 1: This is my all-time favorite mug. Every time it is dirty, I feel a little pang of wishing I could use it. (The pang isn’t painful enough to prompt me to hand wash it, though.) It is my husband’s, if we’re being technical; everyone in his major at college got a mug like this. All of his classmates’ names appear on the back side of the mug. It’s fun to point out my husband’s name to my daughter. The mug holds about 2 and 1/8 cups of tea-with-milk. I like it because it reminds me of college and my husband, and meeting my husband. And plus there are the names of several old college friends on it, too. But I also like it because it holds AMPLE tea for beginning my day, and because it’s well-proportioned: the handle is a good size, the mug is nice and tall. Love it.

Mug 2: This is my next favorite mug because it has pictures of my daughter on it. When she was not even six months old. So tiny! Plus, my husband “made” the mug for me (via one of those upload-your-photos websites; he’s not a secret potter), which makes it additionally special. It holds only about 1 and 3/4 cups of tea-with-milk, but that’s adequate. The enamel? paint? glaze? of the mug is wearing away from the interior, which makes me a little concerned that I’m ingesting dangerous compounds each morning, but not concerned enough to retire the mug.

Mug 3: This is my next favorite mug because my husband got it for me for Christmas one year, and also because it’s HUGE. It holds nearly 2 and 1/2 cups of tea-with-milk. My one criticism is that it’s a little unweidly: the body of the mug is so big and squat and round that I feel slightly in danger of dropping it. And in fact I slosh tea out of this mug at a far greater rate than I do out of any other.

Mug 4: This is my backup mug. It holds about 1 and 3/4 cups of tea-with-milk, which is fine but not great. It’s a good proportion. But there’s nothing terribly sentimental about it for me. Once again, it technically belongs to my husband; it was his souvenir from Zurich. But he doesn’t use it so I do.

Mug 5: This is one of the mugs that goes with our everyday china. It holds about 1 and 1/4 cups of liquid. I NEVER use these mugs. My husband does, and so do guests when we (rarely) have them. But it’s a little ridiculous that we have TWELVE of them. Oh well.

I will be CRUSHED when Mug 1 and Mug 2 break or disintegrate. I love them more than seems natural, really.

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