i never miss a beat

Thu, 03 Aug 2017 21:20:51 GMT

The timing is just about perfect. Classes at Barton have just started up again so I don't yet have too much homework and camp is still in full swing so I know Jack won't be home until after 4:00 at the earliest. I can't help but hope the kids are spoiling him something rotten today, can't help wondering if they brought in a cake and hung streamers and sang for him. I'll definitely be asking later but, for now, I have work to do.

It takes more than a few hours of preparation when all is said and done and the dinner is the easy part.

Eventually, though, there are five pictures hanging up on the walls, each of them wrapped in a different colored paper. Or, well. It's a fake wrapping, honestly. Just enough to cover the front so Jack won't have too much difficulty opening them, so to speak. Each picture is a photo Jack's taken over the past year or so: there's one of a little family of ducklings hanging up in the dining area, one of Elvis next to one of Macha and Shannon together in the entryway, one of about a dozen of Jack's camp kids in a dogpile hanging up by the window and a beautiful black and white one of his and my skates hanging above the television.

At the very least, there's no way he'll be able to miss them all.

I'm a little worried at first about the timing on all of it since I'm not exactly sure when Jack's going to be home, but he texts me when he's about to leave and that helps. It gives me just enough time to put on all the little finishing touches -- namely setting up the table, dimming the lights and trying to tame my cowlick one last time -- before dishing up the filet mignon and homemade poutine and grilled veggies. I put all the little tricks I've learned the past few months to use to make the most appealing presentation of both plates while I have the pie keeping warm in the oven.

I've put the little doggie blockade up in the hall to keep Macha and Shannon from trying to eat everything in sight though I feel a little bad for it when we all hear the familiar jingle of Jack's keys in the lock and they immediately start whining in anticipation.

"I'll make it up to y'all later, I promise," I tell them as I grab the celebratory bottle of wine from the bucket and rush to meet Jack at the door. "Double the milk bones tonight."

Then I turn on my brightest, warmest smile as the door opens, holding the bottle of wine up. "Happy birthday!"

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Thu, 01 Jun 2017 04:41:15 GMT

If there's anything likely to make me reconsider deciding to take a few summer courses, it's this last week of finals for the spring semester. Though, if I'm honest, it's not the exams that have got me so stressed out but the projects. I swear I've been working harder than a rooster in a hen house trying to get everything in line. I even had to take a week off of working at Semele's to make sure I didn't run myself into the ground like last semester and, even if I'm not as overwhelmed as I'd been then, I'm still just about to tear my hair out.

I'm glad when Jack decides to head out and get some fresh air, partially because the last thing we both need is for me to take out all my nervous energy on him and also because it's just nice to see Jack out and socializing with people. I know it's not always the easiest thing for him to do, but he's come so far in the past year or so. It's nice to be reminded.

I've had a few hours alone in the kitchen while he's been gone, complete with locking the pups and Elvis up on Jack's apartment to keep from tripping over any four-legged furriness. I'm pretty sure I've got two of my dishes nearly down and I'm just starting on the third -- some fried green tomatoes with miso mayo and thai basil -- when I hear the familiar jangle of keys in the lock.

Happy for the interruption, I quickly grab a towel and wipe off my hands, smiling in relief as I turn to face Jack right as he walks in.

Except what I see makes everything come to a screeching halt.

Instantly, I've dropped the towel back on the counter and I'm rushing forward. "Oh my goodness, Jack, what happened to your face??"

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breakfast in bed

Tue, 11 Apr 2017 01:11:38 GMT

It's the second day of Barton's Spring Break and, while I definitely have more than a few projects and papers to keep me busy -- not to mention a couple extra shifts at Semele's to keep up on the special orders -- I also have a few extra hours every day to spend with Jack. And I'm taking full advantage. Jack and the pups have been spending most of their time over in my apartment since Friday night, hanging around while I cook and bake and revel in wasting time and, I have to admit, I'm loving every minute of it. In fact, I woke up this morning with Jack snoring quietly in my ear, Macha pinning my feet down, and Elvis curled against my head and I don't think I've been so happy.

Pulling myself out of that quiet little haven takes some doing, but once I've emptied my bladder, I find the kitchen calling and, thirty minutes later, I've whipped up some french toast, scrambled eggs, and bacon. Finding a bottle of champagne stashed away in my meager little liquor cabinet, I pour two mimosas and carefully carry the bounty back to the bedroom on a tray I'd had the foresight to buy on sale right after Christmas.

"Rise and shine," I call out just as I step into the bedroom, knocking my foot against the doorjamb to try to get Jack's attention.

Of course, it's Shannon and Macha's attentions I mostly get, both of them hopping right off the bed, tails wagging as they bump into my legs. "Hey now, you two wait your turns. If you're good, you might get some bacon but you best go lie down for now."

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post-wedding

Sun, 30 Oct 2016 06:35:25 GMT

Anxious as we both are and sore as my feet are, Jack doesn't put up too much of a fight when I insist on using the app on my phone to call us a car. I spend the whole ride back to Chelsea with one hand wrapped tight in Jack's and trying not too fidget too much with the other. Butterflies are downright having a dance party in my belly, but it's not the sort of nerves I used to get before games or even the ones I'd get before checking practice.

No, these are the good kinds of nerves. Like the ones I felt right before Jack kissed me for the first time.

Everything becomes sort of blur once we make it back to the building even as I want to remember every last moment. We thank the driver and then take the elevator up to our floor, Jack's hand not leaving mine for a second. And then I lead him down the hallway to his apartment. Part of me kind of wants to do this in my own bed, but Jack's is about as familiar as mine these days and Macha and Shannon probably need to be let out. Or at least fed. Elvis should be fine.

Jack lets go of my hand to unlock the door and the kids are right there when we walk in, their tails wagging wildly.

It's a nice distraction.

"Hi, babies," I coo, ignoring the nerves and the heat still pumping through me. I glance over at Jack. "Do we need to feed them one last time before, uh. Before we do anything else?"

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[6/14 - After Work]

Tue, 14 Jun 2016 22:51:53 GMT

I'll be honest, after spending so much of my life in a pretty constant Monday thru Friday state of mind, working at Semele's took some getting used to. As long as I've been working there now though, it's pretty much second nature and I don't even blink an eye at Tuesdays being my current Mondays. Especially since they still tend to be pretty slow for the most part.

Not always though.

It's been a long night of order after order after order and, while I love keeping busy and I love that some people actually show up the bar now specifically for my pies, my feet are hurting something awful by the time I make it back to the apartment.

For a minute, I consider just going straight to my own and falling right into bed, but I haven't seen Jack nearly all day and, maybe it's pathetic, but I miss him. So, instead I check quickly on Elvis, make sure his box is all scooped and he has plenty of food and water. He mewls at me pitfully and I do feel a stab of guilt before I leave him with Monsieur Nug for the evening.

There's no need to knock at this point seeing as I have a key and I let myself in quietly just in case he's sleeping.

I'm not too surprised to find the TV on, stuck on some sorta history channel with the volume turned down low and the sight of Jack curled up on the end of the couch is nearly enough to make me pull out my phone to take a quick picture.

He's never been the hardest sleeper though and I see him stir a little as I quietly slip out of my shoes and tiptoe closer.

"Hey, handsome," I murmur, reaching out to brush my finger along the back of his hand where it's dangling off the arm of the couch. "Didn't mean to wake you. You want me to get ya all tucked in for the night?"

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Thu, 19 May 2016 04:26:02 GMT

We're not even close to the last people to leave. Not even from the group I invited. It's still late though, well past 1:00 in the morning and my muscles are absolutely singing with the adrenaline of a good workout, the likes of which I only ever get from dancing. My blood is thrumming and it's only partially from the exercise; most of it, I know, is from the fact that I'm going home with a boy.

I'm going home with Jack Zimmermann.

Even now I can remember the warmth of him pressed against me on the dance floor, the brush of his breath against my ear when he'd whispered the promise of later.

It's officially later by a few hours now and even if I know I shouldn't be expecting the offer to still stand, I can't help hoping. Even if I can't even begin to imagine what sort of things Jack's had in mind. If anything at all.

"Did you have a good time?" I ask him as we head back to the apartment, hand in hand. The air is cold against my sweaty skin and I try to supress a shiver, just holding Jack's hand a little tighter instead. "I'm so, so glad you decided to come. I'm sorry if it was kind of a lot. My next birthday will be more subdued, I promise."

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[4/25] baking and a movie

Wed, 27 Apr 2016 21:57:53 GMT

I've honestly been really good about not asking to use Jack's oven too much since mine got replaced by poor, broken Betsy a couple months ago. For the most part, I keep my baking to Semele's kitchen and the cat cafe and, when really in a crunch, Derek's commissary.

It's late tonight though. Too late for both Semele's and the cat cafe and Derek's place just seems so far. So I've broken down and asked Jack and, of course, he's been far too gracious in letting me take over his kitchen for a few hours.

Maybe it helps that I bribed him with the promise of half a batch of maple cream cookies, but it's probably just as likely that Jack is being nice. If absolutely nothing else, he's too Canadian to slam the door in my face.

Macha and Shannon are clearly enjoying my efforts, both nearly as bad as Elvis as far as being underfoot at least until Jack gets them under control in the other room where he's watching something that involves a lot of cannons, Denzel Washington, and the guy who was Wesley in The Princess Bride.

Once the last batch of cookies is out and cooling, I let out a breath and slip out of my apron before wandering into the other room. For a moment or two, I just let myself take in the breadth of Jack's shoulders, the hard lines of his beautiful profile. He looks good like this, warm and comfortable in his own space, not trying to be anyone other than exactly who he is.

Tamping down on the nerves in my belly, I carefully step over Macha to join Jack on the couch, Shannon curled up between us.

"I'll have those cookies I promised you ready in just about fifteen minutes," I tell him, smiling faintly over at him. "Thanks again for letting me use your oven, Jack. I really really appreciate it."

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swimming lessons [dated to 2/18]

Sat, 20 Feb 2016 07:48:08 GMT

To be honest, I can't remember the last time I swam in an actual pool. I went to the beach here in Darrow before the end of summer, determined to enjoy the last dredges of the season and the proximity to the ocean (or maybe lake -- I suppose none of us really knows for sure) while I still could. But I'd really spent more time on my towel reading through my massive cookbook than really venturing out into the water.

I think my last time in a pool was back in Madison, which now feels like forever ago and, well. I'm a little nervous.

But this was my idea and I'm not about to punk out when it means getting Jack outside his apartment and into DIA where, hopefully, he won't be too upset about finding an ice rink all open and available for use.

Also, the view is pretty nice.

The sounds of laughing and shrieking children bounce off the walls as I finally tear my gaze away from the sight of Jack's butt in those amazingly small shorts long enough to hang my towel off a nearby rack.

"Alright, you Olympian-trained bigshot," I say, ignoring how small and considerably less built I feel next to him. I dip the toes of my right foot in the water and smile as I fiddle with the pair of goggles I'd bought specifically for this outing, slipping them on over my head. "How do we start this? Do I just jump in and paddle for awhile or what? Do you have any good captainly advice to start me off?"

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pizza and revolutionaries night! [dates to 2/1]

Mon, 01 Feb 2016 07:53:06 GMT

If I'm perfectly honest, I've had a thought or two of dragging Jack around all of Darrow to introduce him to all my friends. I know he's met some people all on his own, but I'm not sure how much he gets out. With him living right across the hall now, it's easy as anything to pop in once a day to make sure he's doing alright, but I still have work and the special orders to fulfill, not to mention food to bring to Lee a few times a week and skating over at DIA.

Jack isn't quite ready to head to the rink at all yet, I know. And I understand it, of course, so I haven't tried to push anything. Though I can't say it isn't weird being on the ice without him now that he's here. It feels a little bit wrong, even.

Hopefully, in time, he'll feel okay to try again. I miss him out there.

For now, though, he's still adjusting.

I'm taking a little bit of a risk tonight by showing up at his door unannounced. There's always a chance he's gone out; there's certainly no reason he has to tell me before he does. But I'm hopeful.

Luckily, his door opens only moments after I've knocked, and I hold up the fresh pizza and American Revolution Heritage Collection boxset up with a bright smile. "Now there's no pressure and I know I've shown up with no warning so if you've got other plans, I understand, but how do you feel to a little boy's night in, Mr. Zimmermann?"

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a weighty request [dated for 1/22]

Mon, 25 Jan 2016 01:32:33 GMT

Not only have I been asked to bake pies for Dean Winchester's birthday, but I've been asked by Derek and Dean's husband, a real life actual angel. Derek asking me would have been enough for me to say yes, of course, but being surprised by an angel had made thinking of any other response absolutely impossible.

Again, not that it was really on the table to begin with.

I have two and a half days to get them all done and I'm not really worried, but I have work tonight and I'd like to film and edit something for my vlog at some point tomorrow so I need to get started. I'm elbow-deep in the mix for the salted caramel cookie pie when I hear a light knock on my door.

"Oh, one second!" I call out, quickly wiping my hands on my apron after I set the bowl aside and hurrying to the door.

I feel a smile break across my face when I see who it is, immediately holding the door wide to let him in. "Jack! Hi! Come in."

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