OK, because I found a good compare and contrast picture:

My Dad Before: [link]

Dad a couple weeks ago: [link]

My sister just emailed me this story:

Yesterday Kyle read the news crawl across the bottom of the TV screen and read that a "Librarian Warlord" had been captured and wanted to know what a "Librarian Warlord" was. (It was Liberian...) But we thought that might be a good job for you, now that one has been captured, there should be a position open. Seen any of those advertised?

HaHaHa!

Hec, your spy is very impressive with the info.

My source doesn't have to dig for it. They keep volunteering the information. They're very inept at being sneaky.

Librarian Warlord. Hee.

Happy Birthday, libkitty!

Way to go on the interview, Sparky! Sorry for the sleeplessness, though. It is a big decision, but an exciting one.

Yay for your mom's clean mammo, erika! That's very good news.

My grandmother tells the story of my dad walking home alone at four. They were in downtown Wilmington, DE, in a department store, and he wandered away. Got tired of looking for her, and went home -- over sixteen blocks. But my dad is also the one who, at five, went out on their roof. A neighbor called my grandmother and said, "Iva, I don't want you to panic, but Howard is up on the roof..." It's amazing she wasn't completely gray at 30.

Librarian Warlord. Hee.

Anyone else immediately picture a Klingon?

Ah yes...Good luck, Sparky! (I forgot to say that before.)

Okay, I'm sorry to be all memememe when other people have Actual Legitimate Worries, but I'm going to be a shallow selfish jerk anyway.

Being me, I've already stressed myself out MASSIVELY about The Talk that The Boy and I had less than 12 hours ago.

My last post was the very very very condensed version of a very very very long Talk, and I only posted the summary/high points. But he also talked about his past relationships, and not knowing how to know when it's the Real Thing versus when you should bail in the hopes of the Grand Cinematic Passion. And he talked about past relationships and not wanting to bail *simply because* he didn't want to hurt his GF by breaking up with her. He talked about how the fact that he's not obsessed with me, not constantly thinking about me and driving himself crazy with it, is proof that this isn't the Real Thing.

He also said he thought that b/c I don't call him as often as he calls me, that meant I wasn't actually interested in him. And that's when I said that *I* was trying to not call too often, b/c *I* was afraid that he would think I was a pest-y, creepy, stalker-y freak. He said "That makes me feel a LOT better....and I worry about the same thing, too, you know." All I could do was laugh, and say "Damn, we *are* a pair, aren't we?" He said "They don't write songs about relationships like this, damn it."

My stress, then? Is as follows:

(1) I can't shake the feeling that his intent in the conversation was to actually drop the flux out of the relationship and go back to just friends.

(2) Does he *really* think that Grand Cinematic Passion is sustainable? Or that it should be?

(3) All I can keep thinking is "He thinks I'm fat and gross and disgusting and just can't come up with a way to say it."

(4) I thought things were going well. REALLY well. We had a particularly...good night...on Saturday.

Bah. Relationships stress me out. Maybe we *should* just go back to being just friends. At least that way I won't keep wondering if he thinks I'm disgusting, because it wouldn't be a factor.

Yeah, I *know* that on the face of it, it *sounds* like The Talk ended up just fine. And I guess it did. It was just....his demeanor, I guess. Yeah, it was 1 in the morning, and we were both exhausted, PLUS I'm sick, and so maybe all this is skewed in my mind. I don't know. All I can say is, I'm really stressed now.

And I have this rotten, rotten cold and a sore throat and I can't breathe and I slept really badly last night so now I'm just all wired and tense and waiting for the other conversation, the one where he says "Yeah, actually, I can't do this any more."

Dad is taking me to the big electrode appointment. I had e-mailed him to make sure he remembered, and he didn't respond. So, I just called him. He's all, "What time am I supposed to pick you up?" Um...in 45 minutes! Goof. I'm glad I called.

I wasn't actually very far away, and usually I was hiding under one of those big, round clothing racks.

My mother has yet to forgive me for a hiding in the round clothing racks incident. She still brings it up occasionally, even though we're approaching five decades since it happened. That and the time I stopped the escalator. I specialized more in things like locking myself in the bathroom, sticking a paper umbrella up my nose and getting my tongue stuck to an ice tray. It's possible I would have been safer out of the house, except for the time I ran into a tree on my bicycle and the time I fell on the ice and had to have stitches.

Oh, Steph. I'm so sorry you're so stressed about it. And, I hope you feel better soon.