Lovella's blog, as usual, was one of my first stops.
She had baked a yummy looking Rhubarb bar, complete with step by step pictures of how to create the tasty looking treat.
I swear she also figured out how to post how it smelled too, because after one look, my mouth was watering.
Three hours later I was off reference desk at the library and heading to the grocery story on a mission.
I headed directly to the produce section, prowling for rhubarb.
Swiss chard was on display, and I was momentarily fooled into thinking I had found my rhubarb.
I looked everywhere...no rhubarb.
Just about that time a nice young man name John who was wearing a produce department apron happened by.
I stopped him, and asked if there was any rhubarb available.
He assured me that yes indeed, they did have rhubarb.
And walked me over to the Swiss Chard.
He looked puzzled for a moment, then said he was sure they had some in the back.
I walked with him over to the swinging doors that lead to the back of the store storage area.
A few minutes later John returned with bad news.
They didn't have any rhubarb.
The good news, he reported, noting that I was beginning to have a forced smile, was that there would be rhubarb delivered tomorrow. After two.
Hard to say...
His voice trailed off as he watched me fumbled in my purse.
His manager stepped over to his side.
(I guess I looked scarier than I thought.)
I pulled my trusty camera out, and did what I had to do.
I took John hostage on my blog.
I explained how I had been looking at pictures of rhubarb bars that were freshly made up in Canada just hours ago, and that my friend who made the bars could not possibly fly all the way down to Houston to bring me a plateful to share.
I explained how I needed the rhubarb to make the recipe myself, and that I was going to hold him hostage on my blog until I got some rhubarb.
I told him I didn't care what he had to do, but unless he wanted to have his picture up for as long as it would take, he had better start thinking of a way for me to get some rhubarb.
At this point poor John's manager step up to the plate.
"Um, we have frozen rhubarb, would that do?"
Maybe, I allowed.
The manger walked me over to the frozen food section.
The manager stood by my side as I pursed my lips, deciding if this was going to work. I remembered Lovella had mentioned that frozen rhubarb would work as well as fresh. And at $1.69 a package, it seemed reasonably priced.
I threw four bags into my shopping cart, and wheeled on, as the manager called after me to let him know if I needed anything else.
I swung by the dairy aisle and got butter, and a few other items on my list. I was heading for check out when John raced up to me.
"They have fresh rhubarb over at the Atascacita store" he announced with a hopeful smile.
I pursed my lips again, and tapped my fingers on my shopping cart.
John held his breath.
"No, I don't think so. I don't feel like driving another 20 minutes each way. No, no...the frozen will just have to do."
His face fell slightly, but then he smiled again.
"Well, if there is anything else I can help you with..."
I told him I appreciated the offer, and thanked him for his fine effort.
His face brightened at that, and squaring his shoulders, he went back to his produce.
Bless his heart.
If there had been fresh rhubarb, I might have come back and shared a slice with him.
Instead, his picture is going up on the blog as a warning to other produce departments.
From now on, they had just better start checking Lovella's cooking blogs and make darn sure they have the ingredients needed to make her creations!
Or there is going to be even more trouble ahead.