<div class="floatleft">(https://www.mediafire.com/convkey/7297/tzuhccaneoolbdb6g.jpg) <span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: Georgia;"> </span><div align="center"><strong> <span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 12pt;">Steffy – CC</span></strong></div></div>Oo-la-la!  A drink, my drink, is stirring attention.  All having to do with rhubarb.<br/><br/>I’ve retrieved my note about how long I’ve been bumming around and think of ‘good times’ with friends.  I smile, hoping that it falls on everyone, Al included.<br/><br/>It may be that I’m just a novice on rhubarb issues.  I know Courtney’s mum (I’ll use Brit vernacular) explained to me about making a rhubarb shrub: cut rhubarb, put sugar in a jar with water, let it steep and then add red wine vinegar.  Because I didn’t want Courtney’s mum to think I was a drink-aholic I only thought it would make a good martini mix-in and didn’t say it then.<br/><br/>Then, who should come into the bar next to corrupt poor me?  Courtney!<br/><br/>Crimes against martinis?  She must have been a quiet observer.  I have to be careful how I joke about this since my new friend Tammy seems to have a past of incarceration.  “Tammy, meet Courtney who kidnapped me and took me to Iowa.  I haven’t had to use the defense, but I’m prepared to blame Iowa for everything.  That’s where she grew up.”<br/><br/>I offer to Taffy and Mechelle: “Iowa is not an island in any sense of the word.  Flat.  No hills.  At least one nice person.”<br/><br/>“Anyone have a suggestion of how to get me back on the straight and narrow?  I mean martinis, rhubarb or comportment I guess.”<br/>