<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>The ride is bumpy.  I’m relieved to hear that Jaclyn has been arrested only.  No physical accosting, no assault.  I’m yet more relieved to hear her talk nutrition—maybe an emotional device for her, but it places the events in a broader way.  I nod.  And she’s answered one question I was going to put: continue or not?  We continue.<br/><br/><strong>“Well we’ve landed on our feet.  That’s good.  Like a cat as it were.  Let’s not say one of those nine lives was used up there, we still have a full number.  We'll all agree on that.  <em>Hee-hee!</em>”</strong><br/><br/>When we arrive at the hotel and get out of the car, I whisper to Jekesai,<em>“Thank you Jekesai.  Keep an eye on Jaclyn, bodyguard, yes?”</em>That gets me a nod.<strong>“So it's rest and food.  Figurative mother’s chicken soup.”</strong><br/>