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Hoo-boy, I am back on the coffee
bandwagon. I am drinking macchiatos like
I’m Tom Hanks on a desert island but instead of water and a volleyball, all I
have to cling to is my black gold and possibly a slice of ginger crunch. Found a lovely café near work that makes an
excellent brew, but I’m not sure they appreciate the foam-y part of a short
macchiato – I say “Macchiato to go, please” and they (consistently!) say, “OK,
long black”. I think it’s going to
become a battle of the wills but I will keep returning, if only for the tiny
piece of dark choc santé bar that comes with each cup. I need to buy a reusable cup to keep up my hippy/hipster
cred. Must save the world, one plastic
lid at a time (having a much harder time coming around to the idea of switching
out my lovely halogen lights for reusable bulbs…I look SO. MUCH. BETTER. under
soft lighting conditions. Is vanity part
of the hippy ethos? I think not, sadly).
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Keep your happy,
shining faces scrunched up with your eyes closed and fingers crossed for
me. It’s not me exactly, but send out
some wonderful *good treatment* vibes my way for a relation.
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Apropos of absolutely nothing, I think you should know that my husband is hard
at work acquiring a side part.
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Mum’s moo-babies are mostly better. The mostly part being those that didn’t make
it, including one of her orphans, sadly.
Still, there’s one orphan left who is now 8 weeks and out of danger. The rest of the mob are happily munching
grass and emitting gassy fumes.
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We were reminiscing about childhood bad
behaviour last night. Which is worse –
painting a giant black Newfoundland dog white, or stringing up a length of
Hubba Bubba across the hallway to clothesline unsuspecting family members? Foot through the wall or stegosaurus? (I have so many of these it gets embarrassing;
no seriously).
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