Renae, I Have Your Rhubarb
There I was minding my own business waxing on about my exceptional rhubarb crop, when one of my favorite bon vivants, super moms and gifted bloggers (Renaedujour.com) perked up and said in hushed tones as if speaking of contraband, “Did you say rhubarb.” “Why yes, Renae I did.” (I knew I like that girl.)
There are many markers of a person’s worth, and loving rhubarb is one of them. Pure glee and unbridled enthusiasm for anything should be rewarded, and Renae’s trophy shall be a clutch of my finest rhubarb stalks. I shall deliver them tomorrow, and while I give these beefy ruby-red batons with no return in mind or expected, I venture to guess a fine confection or baked good will find its way from Renae’s home to mine. Bon vivants are like that, and I embrace them all.
I see rhubarb custard pie in my future. (Note to self: buy vanilla ice cream.)