<div class="floatleft">(https://www.mediafire.com/convkey/4474/fy1ijwqfvup45ew6g.jpg) <br/><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: Georgia;"></span><div align="center"><strong><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 12pt;">Peter Warcaof</span></strong> <span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: Georgia;"></span><div align="center"><strong><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 12pt;">CGDA Benefactor</span></strong></div></div></div><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 11pt;">Perhaps I should have started a count as I drummed my fingers waiting for some optimistic result.  Where is Jaclyn?  Miss Silk?<br/><br/>Things seem dismal.  Is the modern concept <em>bad vibe</em>?  Or is that ten years out of date as well?  It seems like a bad vibe day.<br/><br/>I start to wander, heading outward bound, reaching an open door.  My phone rings and before I can react it’s to voicemail.  <em>Drat!</em>.  I know there is an icon, a picture symbol.  I figure that out, standing at the door.  I listen.  I know of no Tutu.  And I do not like what to me sounds like a vacuous poor imitation of Jaclyn.<br/><br/>There certainly was no message of what Miss Silk might be doing.  <br/><br/>Mission One is to locate Miss Silk.  Oddly, as I look outside, she is there.  Not buoyant, not at all.  <strong>“Ahoy!  Miss Silk!  If you’re walking, I’ll join, but I would recommend vehicular.”</strong> <br/><br/>I double-pace to her, starting with a smile.  My smile turns to a frown.  <em>Jehoshaphat!</em>  <strong>“I assure you that you will be quite all right.  Let’s get to our rooms.  Not to worry my dear!”</strong>  <br/><br/><em>Not to worry my dear!</em>  I truly hope I can deliver on that assurance!<br/></span>