Hello, friends. I come to you from my kitchen table. Where I'm reading about Greek vengeance in a book assigned to me by my tyrant of a professor and sucking on the Easter lamb. Plucked prematurely from our Easter basket, pregnant with colorful eggs and flowers. It's a sugar lamb and it is delicious. I'm going to need my energy for when the
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Good thing you're eating a sugar lamb, because raw butter isn't as good as it sounds.
Oh, and my aunt is my godmother and another of my uncles is my godfather. I didn't know that that was odd. But I guess it is Polish. Hmm. I don't know if I'd want some non-blood relative stranger to be the holy sponsor of my child. Other than, well, you.
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