He’s back!!!

Pouring a million and one beers while pasting a smile on my face, isn’t easy. I’m gloomy… heartbroken even.

I look up… and in a flash of light blue, my favorite man walks back into my (every other) least favorite night at work.

Along with the smile I’d lost.

This man… this perfect example of what I’d order if I could hand design the ideal man.

He’s clean cut, clean shaven… and he smells like heaven. Just standing across from him makes me want to buy stock in Gillette. Every man should be this edible. This man can dress me into submission, ironed collars, neckties… fuck… I could watch him get dressed every day and not get bored.

Or better yet?


He’s dangerously smart, and can turn me on simply by talking to me. He starts dropping big words and my clothes fall off. Oops. His text messages are like personalized porn because his spelling makes me weak in the knees. Punctuated even, gulp.

He’s the very definition of my type, and my very favorite man to kiss.

He’s not well rounded, he’s the real deal. The whole package. Great dad and all.

My two favorite customers have teased me about my Smartypants crush for months… after he went missing in March. Gone. Vanished. Exponentially increasing the suffering of what’s already my least favorite night at work. I gave up looking for him about a month ago… we talk about him every Tuesday and this is no exception.

R- Oooh this is Smartypants night.

J- No… he’s gone. He never came back.

R- He’s crazy, the chemistry is tangible.

J- Hush, you’re killing me. I tried- but thanks- that’s a compliment.

I look up….and the man walks in…. and I’m beaming… and my friends turn… and start laughing.

R- Smartypants is BACK.

His friend immediately teases me, because it must be written all over my face.

A- Well, well, look at that smile. Where’s mine?

J- Sorry, I have a favorite, I can’t lie.

He’s smiley gorgeous…. and losing trivia!


I look at him sideways and he starts laughing. I’m so ridiculously attracted to him it’s embarrassing.

There’s only one Smartypants, and he does NOT lose trivia.

J- Uh oh… I might have to rename you?!?!

He laughs… and ends up winning.

Be still my heart.

IF only they were all Smartypants… but they’re not- and I’m delighted to see him again.

Walking across the street in the balmy warm summer rain after work, thankful for the reminder that the last miserable month isn’t the first thing on my mind anymore.

He may as well have walked in wearing nothing but frosting and carrying lit candles.

Happy Birthday to Me.

Tomato Hoarder

Seriously. My ego has gotten me in more trouble than I can shake a stick at. One of the last arguments with the dirty boat stealing asshole went something like this:

DBSA- What do you think you’re going to do? You’ll never be able to do it without me.

J- Hmm. You don’t think so, huh? Watch me.

Unfortunately we were talking about the garden. I expanded it, tilled all the rows in and remade/reshaped the entire thing. Fuck that guy, not only would I do it bigger, and completely erase anything he’d done in my garden- I’d do it alone.

I really showed him. Ugh. I was a slave to the damn garden all summer and now the fall fun has only just begun… I have thousands of tomatoes yet to ripen. I’m not exaggerating either. Literally thousands. 180 very healthy plants.

It’s a bit epic- to be completely honest…and a bit of an eye opener. I’ll never do it again. It’s just a ridiculous amount of garden…hell… it’s why we call it the Yarden. With a week of hot weather, and Th, Fr & Sat off- I’m going to be a canning slave. Marinara, salsa, pickled beets, more jam, pears, etc….

I’ve learned my lesson. I admit to being a tomato hoarder and I will never do it again.

I hope.