<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;"> <br/>Junior offers some vodka advice and U nods.   I figure U knows so I nod to the waiter as well.  <strong>“Vodka—a gimlet, . . . that’s with some lime is what I’m thinking.”</strong>  The waiter clicks his heels and nods.<br/><br/>I’m looking over the menu while Ari sits serenely, not at all concerned with food, what to order or what to drink.<br/><br/><strong>“You did say you were famished Jaclyn.”</strong>  I’m not ordering for her, but this could give some cover to what I’m thinking.  So there’s the steak, the pierogi (but Russian?), nacho(?)—really?! and no salad.<br/><br/>I beam at Jaclyn.  <strong>“Well, here we are!”</strong>   <br/></span>