“I gotta guy…..”  It seems like there is a guy for everything:  Ant Guy.  Lawn Guy.  Window Guy.  No matter the situation, it’s almost always a “guy.”  My friend attempted to paint her own house.  A contractor friend saw her up on the roof prepping.  “What are you doing!?!  I’ve got a guy for that!”  Another friend of mine lives a fine life and says her fine friends have a guy for everything.  Do I have a guy for everything?  I used to think I did.

At home, I’m the minority.  With a husband and two sons, I’ve got a guy for a lot of things, some I don’t like and some I do.  I have Messy Guy but he’s a Reliable Guy too.  I have Short-Cut Guy and Crack-Me-Up Guy rolled into one.  My husband is loaded, hence the marriage thing.  He’s a Sweet Guy; Smart Guy; Fix-it Guy; Good-Dad Guy and Dishes Guy, to name a few.

Lately he’s turned into a Health-Nut Guy.  He’s so obsessed with healthy foods we rarely eat anything non-organic, right down to cornstarch and baking powder.  We’ve been purified.  He’s a fancy cook, loading plenty of color into a meal like a psychedelic painting, more color = more vitamins.  He’s practically a Know-it-All Guy, but I dare not even hint about it.  Our house is not big enough for that kind of guy; I know some things too.

Love My Wine Guy!

Love My Wine Guy!

I have a Wine Guy.  The world of wine is like the world of fashion, so much to know and so little time to keep up.  When I go to my Wine Guy, I tell him my style, geographical preference and price point.  In no time, we are filling a box of twelve bottles; I am almost always satisfied.

I have a pretty happy life, a guy for everything I think.  Between my family and favorite shops, I’m set.  But sometimes, you don’t know what you need until someone shares their specialty.

One day, I find a guy I didn’t know existed.  I needed some tortillas.  I’m picky and prefer the homemade kind by Chef Guy, aka my husband, or from the tortilla factory in the Mexican markets nearby.  I make a quick stop at a healthy market, Whole Foods.  I’m not a regular, even with my Health-Nut Guy watching over me.  He’s also Frugal Guy, finding ways to be economically organic.  Hence, shopping for tortillas at Whole Foods was like visiting an expensive foreign country.

Muy Bueno!

Muy Bueno!

“Hi.  Can you tell me where I can find tortillas?”  “Do you mean tortilla chips?”  Oh boy.  I found Wrong Guy.  Now that’s a guy nobody needs, especially in a boyfriend.  (Unless you are Taylor Swift and can get rich singing about it.)  Wrong Guy’s buddy led me out of the Ethnic aisle to the bread aisle.  I never thought of tortillas as Mexican bread but I’m following the logic.  He passed me off to Cristán, a fellow worker.

Cristán points to three shelves of tortillas and a few more in the refrigerated section across the way.  In his thick Spanish accent he asks, “Do you want me to recommend a tortilla?”  Wow.  He sensed I was overwhelmed by so many choices.  “Yes!”  He quickly scans the shelves of 50 possibilities.  He pulls out a package that looks like corn tortillas; it’s not a good fit for quesadillas.  “Oh, I need flour tortillas.  I guess I should have told you.”

Not available for photo.  Cuter in person.

Not available for photo. Cuter in person.

“No.  Theeeze are corn and flour.  If you taste, you will say, “Ahh!  Theeze arrre theeee BEST!  YOU ARRRE theee guy!  Cristán!”  He  looks and speaks a bit like my favorite Pro-Tennis Guy, Rafael Nadal, so I am enjoying the moment.

“Ok.  I’ll go for it.”  I meant I would buy it.  Before I know it, the bag is unzipped and he’s holding it open for me to try.  I pull out a thick golden tortilla and rip off a bite.  “AHHH!  These ARE the Best! You are the Guy!”  I totally trust Tortilla Guy now and I share a problem.  “So, I have a 13-year-old who likes a tortilla the plain way, for quesadillas?” Cristán walks to the refrigerated section and pulls out the all-organic flour tortilla.  “Two bucks.  Perrrfect.”

It’s not until I get home do I read the label of my yummy new tortillas.  “Non GMO.  All organic.”  Joy!  I explain my tortilla story to my 13 year-old.  I tell him all about Cristán.  He tries the tortilla and is in love.  He’s the first to tell Health-Nut Guy, Dad, about the no-junk tortilla, including the help from the emphatic “Cristán!” The entire bag was consumed in one night.  The house was filled with Happy Guys and a happy me.

With Tortilla Guy in my arsenal now, I’d say I am almost complete, a guy for almost everything.  However, I realize I have a messy garage.  Anybody gotta guy for that?

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