Barry Richards sympathized with his sister's parenting woes for a full half hour, hoping to learn a thing or two. He wondered if he'd ever be able to so skillfully juggle a full-time job, housework, unfinished homework assignments, skinned knees, and a toddler's grief over a dead goldfish. As a gay man, hearing the words, "Love you, Daddy," might never happen for him, but he wanted them to, some day. Until then, "Love you, Uncle Barry," would suffice. Karen's "day in the life" ended with, "Anyhow, what's up with you? You still treating Mr. Cutie Professor right? He's a keeper, and if you let him get away, we'll have words, brother mine, words!" "We're doing good," Barry answered, unwilling to commit to more and possibly jinx his newfound happiness. "Good? Just good? Listen, it's not enough to light the fire, now you gotta fan the flames." That brought a wry smile to Barry's face, offering the perfect lead-in to why he'd called. "Yes, ma'am, and I bow to your wisdom on flame-fanning, oh she-who's-Fanning the Flames - 2 been-happily-married-for-twelve-years.
