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No, it's not because I'm such a great wine customer. Believe me, I'd like to be a much better Trader Joe's wine customer, but I'd also like to maintain that clean bill of health. I didn't get those roses because I'm their highest profit-maker on cheap wine. You're surprised, I know.

Fact is, I'm not sure what the motivation was, and I'm working hard to not question it and just enjoy a surprising act of kindness.

I've only talked to the wine guy once, about three weeks ago when I was buying wine and beer for that shindig I hosted a few weeks ago. Granted, we talked at length. He was having a slow day. I was sans kid. And anyone who knows me knows that, if you get me started on wine, food, (or just about any topic, truth be told), I'll talk for hours and hours and hours until someone physically removes me from the scene. I'm a friendly gal. I like to talk to people. I really like to talk about food and wine, especially with people who work with them for a living.

There were a few moments when we were talking where I thought he might be flirting with me, but come on. Guys don't flirt with me. I'm a chubby 34-year-old mom who's usually wearing a ponytail or two, no makeup, a t-shirt, and black Mary Janes that indicate 1) my Amish belief system, 2) my refusal to leave the year 1994 in the past, or 3)orthopedic problems. (The correct answer is B).

I probably seemed like I was flirting because, like I said, I'm friendly. Friendly + female is often misconstrued as flirt. Whatever, I bought three bottles of wine and a 6-pack of beer that day. Hardly a big haul.

Today, I dropped Clara Jane at daycare and hit Trader Joe's for my weekly shopping in the time I had to kill before my doctor's appointment. Frozen naan, three jars of natural peanut butter for my dad, fresh pineapple, a jar of korma sauce, no booze. Pretty typical TJ's run for me.

What was atypical, though, was how the wine guy was rapidly working on a bouquet of pink roses at the service counter. Even more atypical was the manner in which he ran by my check-out lane, hollered, "I'm just in time!" as he deposited the flowers into one of my shopping bags, not even stopping his sprint.

The bagger, cashier and I all stood there, jaws dropped. It takes a lot to make me blush, but I could feel my face flaming all the way down my neck to my chest.

Oh shit. V-neck t-shirt. Chest glowing red. Boobs afire, possibly visible through gray shirt. Might die right now.

"He never bring me flowers anymore," the cashier finally mumbled.

I finished my transaction and went over to the service desk to thank the wine guy. I think I slobbered a little. I know the words didn't come out smoothly, and I think I might have had a small booger on the edge of my left nostril.

Did I mention that the wine guy's pretty damn cute? Did I mention that I'm married? And that he is, too?

See, that's the part I'm trying to not think about. I want to view this as a simple act of kindness, a kooky person doing something a bit out-there, just to give someone a pleasant jolt in the middle of a chilly, dull, day.

I spent a chunk of yesterday with Raquel and Beqi - have I mentioned that I'm only accepting new friends who have the letter Q in their names? Anyway, we spent a great deal of time ranting about stupid shit men have done in an effort to pick up women. Everything from revving their car engines to copping feels at clubs to asking the father of a gal's ex how she is in bed. Really abhorant stuff that happens all the time. At one point, when we were collectively calling for a large bowl filled with the testicles of these men, Clara Jane turned to us, let our a happy shriek, and shot us a big thumbs-up sign.

Obviously, she's being raised to be a strong woman who will break the face of anyone who messes with her.

And yet, less than 24 hours later, I find myself completely flummoxed by a surprise floral delivery that my cynical brain wants to say is likely motivated by the same things that motivate the crappy actions we were discussing yesterday. The difference is, this guy did something nice and beautiful, not something degrading and objectifying.

Now, I feel a little stupid for getting so giddy over flowers. I never got flowers from boys when I was in high school. The boyfriends I had over the years weren't always the most thoughtful of fellows, although the one I married is. That's why I need to take the man/woman thing out of the equation and just take this at face value: a clever person doing something spontaneous and kind to make another person feel good.

That's just good customer service, when you get right down to it. Damn good customer service. So good that I'm thinking I might switch from my Three Buck Chuck to the $20 bottles of Kenwood Zinfandel they sell.