<div class="floatleft">(http://i63.tinypic.com/2eqf9j4.jpg) <br/><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: Georgia;"></span><div align="center"><strong><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 10pt;">Peter Warcaof</span></strong> <span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: Georgia;"></span><div align="center"><strong><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 10pt;">CGDA Benefactor</span></strong><br/>‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾</div></div></div>Olivia holds her arms out and smiles broadly.  Such a welcome!  I don’t know my own enthusiasm sometimes.  I usually check my impulse, reach for a hand and smile warmly in greeting.  But Olivia’s enthusiasm is infectious.  I take her into my arms, bear-hug her, lifting her off the ground.<br/><br/><em>Hee-hee!</em>I set Olivia down, no harm apparent.<strong>“There you go!  Wonderful site I do say.  And hello!”</strong><br/><br/>Olivia offers choices.  I’d opt for a view of the area, a tour, but<strong>“Jaclyn’s the brains of our troupe.  She’ll get technical.  I’ll nod.”</strong><em>Hee-hee!</em><strong>“I prefer the steady look in the eye.  The assurance ‘this will work.’  What say ye, Jaclyn?  Do you want . . . can you kick the tires?”</strong><br/>