<div class="floatleft">(https://www.mediafire.com/convkey/1992/91qf4afj5djm73o6g.jpg)<br/><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: Georgia;"></span><div align="center"><strong> <span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 12pt;">Michal – ‘U’ </span> </strong> <span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: Georgia;"><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 12pt;"></span></span><div align="center">_____<br/><strong><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 11pt;">Musician</span></strong></div></div></div><br/><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 11pt;">Junior seems smitten with the lady.  She asks for an order to be placed—our waiter, Alec, standing, listening.  The server nods, listening to every word, and I wait for Junior to take over—but he does not.  I say to Alec who also teaches English at the grade school, “Wołowina rzadka”  Continuing, “You heard Miss’s desires.  Beef on the rare side I think.  Our guests are new arrivals, bring what the lady described, and other things, the best and definitely pierogis.”  I wink at Peter with the mention of pierogis. <br/><br/>That taken care of, I turn to Jaclyn, “Peter, and Ari of course, have filled me in on your whirlwind from Africa, eventually through Zurich, Berlin, now here.  Amazing!” <br/></span>