Allyson as long as he recongizes you have a lot of skills that can be utilized and not taken for granted. There are lots of different types of assistants and I'm glad you guys have pegged what he needs.

There are three young deer LOUNGING (as in lying about chewing grass) less than 50 ft from my deck in the back yard.

I don't know about twitter, but I just said something about Facebook to my new minion and I swear to god she looked at me like, "You're on Facebook? But you're SO OLD!!" I'm at least 10 years older than she is, but STILL.

That was the reaction my son gave me about Facebook. "Really, Mom, don't do it."

Did you tell him that all the grownups are on Facebook now?

Ah! I'm writing a kids' book! It starts like this...

Sam – Chapter One: Birthquake

Sam was born at 3:26am on April 17th. The moon was full and round in the sky; a whipped-cream filled balloon, one breath from bursting. His life began with a deep yawn, sucking the night air into his tiny lungs, soaking up a bit of that unusually enormous spring moon. And then he closed his eyes, exhausted and swaddled in leather on his mother’s belly, and had a good, long rest. It was the last time Sam would find himself sleepy, let alone asleep, at 3:26am on a gorgeous spring night, or any other sort of night, for the rest of his life.

Sam’s mother was a bat, and therefore, so was Sam. A Mexican Free-tail bat, to be specific. He was only one inch tall, and weighed about as much as a marshmallow. Together, Sam and his mother lived a content life in a warm, tar-black cave in Southern California (with about eighty-four thousand, six hundred and ninety-two assorted relatives and friends).

Every morning, just as the earth spun lazily on its axis toward daylight, and the sky went from black to navy blue, and the first strokes of orange floated along the horizon, Sam’s mother would tell him a bedtime story about a cousin, auntie, or great-great-great-grampa’s amazing bat adventures. You see, Sam’s family has lived in this cave since bats could fly, and Sam’s mother knew every story there was tell about them.

And then an earthquake destroys Sam's cave, leaving him all alone. So he travels the world, from Argentina's vampire bats to London's goth bats to star-crossed lover bats in the Middle East, pirate bats in Jamaica, and the wise fox bats in Australia, looking for a new family.

And he is SO CUTE! I'm going to Texas in September to visit the bat biology lab at Texas A&M.

His needs have completely changed, and my talents don't suit those needs.

I think it's a good thing the two of you realize what caused this shift from your past relationship to your current tense one. Either way it'll go in the end, I think it's a good thing.

I want that more than anything.

That is what I wish for you, then, too.

I learned that from This American Life as well, so you know it's true.

Not to mention Homicide:

"A detective does his job in the only possible way. He follows the requirements of the law to the letter -- or close enough so as not to jeopardize his case. Just as carefully, he ignores that law's spirit and intent. He becomes a salesman, a huckster as thieving and silver-tongued as any man who ever moved used cars or aluminum siding -- more so, in fact, when you consider that he's selling long prison terms to customers who have no genuine need for the product."

Oh, and I want to buy a gift for my office, too. I don't think organic wine will suit them.

My plan was a chocolate pizza, but we ate our way through one of those last week, so it's kind of redundant now.

Allyson, glad things have been sorted out at work. Finding your niche, or at least recognizing what sort of niche you want, is a good step.

And Sam sounds adorable - you will, of course, post when it's in print.

The local zoo has - or at least HAD - a bat exhibit where the building it was in was kept dark so the bats would be active during the day. I remember once I saw a bat going through its grooming routine; it was a very modest bat, so it was hanging by the toes of one foot, completely wrapped in its wings, but you could see it moving inside the wings grooming itself. Very cute.

A Mexican Free-tail bat, to be specific.

That's a great idea! You can watch them fly out from under the bridge.

Did you tell him that all the grownups are on Facebook now?

Yes. That didn't sway him. He looked at me like I was in danger of losing my grownup card.

Allyson- I am glad things seem to have worked out. When did your job change-- I guess I still thought you were keeping away the bureacrxy while replugging routers and proofreading press releases!