I sound like an arithmetic operation that doubles an amount, but I am actually a storied riverside capital where millions raise a pint of green cheer. What city am I?

I am white and I fall from the sky in the cold, and kids build a man with me. What am I?

I am full of bubbles, but I am not a bath. I make a loud pop, but I am not a balloon. What am I?

Nipping at fingertips with Jack as my herald, I coat the brittle fall grass and fallen leaves with sparkling white lace, only to perish under the morning sun. What am I?

I grow smaller the more I work, and I leave behind a trail of dark thoughts. What am I?

Which month of the year do people sleep the least during?

I am full of holes, yet I hold plenty of ocean water when you dive in.