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November 18, 2011
Quite the 'tude on this snood of sisters. Suzanne, the oldest, can't compose a sentence that contains more syllables than words, yet she drones that the packed pages of an acquaintance's just-published tome aren't worth the paper they're printed on. Lisbette, the middle nitwit, trips over her own flat feet by merely traversing her kitchen to grab grapes from the fridge, yet has no problem finding fault with pre-adolescent ballet students she glimpses through the plate glass window at Miss Randi's Rat-a-Tap. And Maura, the "baby", sputters through cupcake-dappled lips that the buttercream frosting sucks at the church bake sale.