Good Morning.
I am going through fifty years of stuff in my house so I can move to a place half the size. This is a good thing but revealing. Men and women do not live the same way, partly because their brains are wired differently and partly because they're raised to conform to certain norms. To my right there are boxes filled with extension cords and to my left there are table linens. Guess who purchased which back when. A lot has changed with regard to the old stereo-typing, but some of it remains intact, and I think I'm still grateful. Men may wear pink ties and women may like pant suits, but men will never paint a bathroom pink and women will probably want to be buried in a dress. I still have one or two.
The drapes in my guest room are a floral pattern, not the little rosebuds that would have a male type grabbing a beer to settle his nerves, but not the brown corduroy or dark plaid he would prefer. The larger point is that there's always beer in the fridge. In an appliance overseen by a female, you'll find a bottle of white wine but seldom a case of Bud Light, or at the very least the cans will be removed from the box. Men like things handy and have no problem throwing a big wad of blue cardboard on the shelf next to the bowl of strawberries. Then again, the extension cord man drank Scotch and was great with
a melon baller.
Back to generalities. Men are thoroughly capable of drowning a $30 steak in sauce from a bottle while women favor a wine reduction. Some men may go for the reduction, but seldom will a woman dump half a bottle of steak sauce on a piece of meat seared to perfection and accompanied by colorful grilled vegetables. Men think presentation is a business proposal while women think color on a plate - unless the woman is the CEO of a Fortune 500 company and the guy is a chef at an upscale eatery. Back at the ranch, women are spending more time on the grill but are probably not interested in picking up the propane or charcoal at the hardware store to fuel it. They do not ask for nor do they want a smoker for Christmas. They also don't bury their food in a pit for the annual neighborhood barbecue. They will probably suggest - i.e. insist upon - a location away from the day lilies or hostas, but they won't throw a pig in the ground. I am still trying to process why a woman wants to land a fighter jet on an aircraft carrier. A cockpit is so named for a reason. Oh please. I was trying to connect the pits - the one in the ground and the one in the sky.
Men get big dogs and big TVs and want big houses with big yards. Women are often seen with dogs the size of a bedroom
slipper and find a smaller outside space charming - except the one who wants an acreage and a Great Dane. Still, she will line the mantel of the farmhouse with candles, not athletic trophies, and put a book about the wonders of Italy on the coffee table, not a pair of Nikes with socks and feet in them - except the tennies may belong to a daughter, not a son. The best way to deal with all of this confusion is to pull a little something from the opposite of what one happens to be and who gives a rip. A guy can plant an herb garden and and sew on a button or two and a woman can hike the national parks and jump start the car. And land on an aircraft carrier and climb Mount Everest and embroider the guest towels for the bathroom he just painted blue.
Best regards,
Elisabeth
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