inquired, “What did you study?”
“Not painting.”
He grinned and asked, “What?”
“General education. No particular skills,” she lied.
“You do paint.”
“My dad was a painter. I helped him.”
“Most dads are tolerant of kids wanting to help.” Ed was kind. “Did he teach you to be that careful?”
“He’d give me a whole wall. It was always in a closet or a back hail.”
Soberly, Ed nodded and replied, “My dad did that, too.”
“He also taught me to take apart the plumbing and clean it out. It took time.”
Ed laughed. “My dad did that!”
Soberly, she communicated, “Being a father is a challenge. He does more interesting things than sweeping or dusting or washing dishes.”
“I’d never thought of it that way.”
She expanded the premise. “Men selected what domestic chores they’d do and allowed women to do the rest of it.”
His humor brimming his eyes, Ed considered the rebel. “You couldn’t change sex.”
“I did try. Mother told me to kiss my elbow and I’d change.” She added thoughtfully, “It’s a wonder I didn’t break my arm.”
Ed considered her. “So you don’t like being a woman?”
She turned her head slightly and gave him an amused glance along with that fascinating shrug and replied, “I grew into the role.”
Without his permission, his flicking eyes were witnessing the result. “Yeah.”
“Being female isn’t easy.” She shared that knowledge.
And he sighed. “Being male is worse.”
She scoffed. “You guys have it so easy. Nobody harasses you, nobody crowds you. Nobody brushes against you. Nobody discards any advice or suggestions you give.”
“You don’t know the real world. Men have to run in packs. A lone male is chopped up. No matter what the circumstances, a guy needs backup. The worstpossible scenario for a guy is…marriage. No. No. Listen. There, he’s all alone, no male backup and has to handle every thing all by himself.”
She burst out laughing.
He laid his fork down and put his elbow on the table as he waited for her hilarity to abate. Then he said, “Why, Marcia, whatever are you thinking about to laugh in that manner? Are you thinking about— gasp— sex? ”
She bit her lip and watched him, her eyes spilling her laughter.
Earnestly, gently, he instructed the untried one, “A man has to train a woman in marriage.” He elaborated, “What days he sleeps late, what sort of weather is fishing weather, who buys the beer for any gathering and what kind. Hush that. Who sleeps on which side of the bed. Who brings in the coffee and paper. A woman never realizes those are her chores.”
She tilted her head a little as she looked at him. “You’ve never been married.”
“How’d you know that?”
“I believe Amy told me.”
“Almost all of my friends are married, and the guys spread the word. It sounds like such a strain, I’ve never been tempted to take the leap into the fiery pits of…the volcano.”
“You don’t like the idea of being nailed down.”
“Men do that. Women submit.”
“Uh-oh.”
His face was so innocent and earnest, “They don’t?”
“No.”
“Well, I’ll be darned! The guys I hear, tell it different. They say all those things. I’ve just not yet had the impulse to tackle a woman and train her.”
“Train…her?”
“From what I hear, women come into a marriage thinking they’re in control. It takes guys a tough lot of time just getting them settled. They don’t even have time for friends right at first. The training takes so long and is so hard.”
She scoffed.
“How many married couples have you seen out and about after they’re married? They go on trips by themselves and they come home and lock the doors. A man has it hard.” He shook his head and sighed. “You ought to just hear the tales they tell.”
“What about kids?”
“What about them?”
“Does the dad take a hand in training them?”
“After the potty training and the food being poked into
“Not painting.”
He grinned and asked, “What?”
“General education. No particular skills,” she lied.
“You do paint.”
“My dad was a painter. I helped him.”
“Most dads are tolerant of kids wanting to help.” Ed was kind. “Did he teach you to be that careful?”
“He’d give me a whole wall. It was always in a closet or a back hail.”
Soberly, Ed nodded and replied, “My dad did that, too.”
“He also taught me to take apart the plumbing and clean it out. It took time.”
Ed laughed. “My dad did that!”
Soberly, she communicated, “Being a father is a challenge. He does more interesting things than sweeping or dusting or washing dishes.”
“I’d never thought of it that way.”
She expanded the premise. “Men selected what domestic chores they’d do and allowed women to do the rest of it.”
His humor brimming his eyes, Ed considered the rebel. “You couldn’t change sex.”
“I did try. Mother told me to kiss my elbow and I’d change.” She added thoughtfully, “It’s a wonder I didn’t break my arm.”
Ed considered her. “So you don’t like being a woman?”
She turned her head slightly and gave him an amused glance along with that fascinating shrug and replied, “I grew into the role.”
Without his permission, his flicking eyes were witnessing the result. “Yeah.”
“Being female isn’t easy.” She shared that knowledge.
And he sighed. “Being male is worse.”
She scoffed. “You guys have it so easy. Nobody harasses you, nobody crowds you. Nobody brushes against you. Nobody discards any advice or suggestions you give.”
“You don’t know the real world. Men have to run in packs. A lone male is chopped up. No matter what the circumstances, a guy needs backup. The worstpossible scenario for a guy is…marriage. No. No. Listen. There, he’s all alone, no male backup and has to handle every thing all by himself.”
She burst out laughing.
He laid his fork down and put his elbow on the table as he waited for her hilarity to abate. Then he said, “Why, Marcia, whatever are you thinking about to laugh in that manner? Are you thinking about— gasp— sex? ”
She bit her lip and watched him, her eyes spilling her laughter.
Earnestly, gently, he instructed the untried one, “A man has to train a woman in marriage.” He elaborated, “What days he sleeps late, what sort of weather is fishing weather, who buys the beer for any gathering and what kind. Hush that. Who sleeps on which side of the bed. Who brings in the coffee and paper. A woman never realizes those are her chores.”
She tilted her head a little as she looked at him. “You’ve never been married.”
“How’d you know that?”
“I believe Amy told me.”
“Almost all of my friends are married, and the guys spread the word. It sounds like such a strain, I’ve never been tempted to take the leap into the fiery pits of…the volcano.”
“You don’t like the idea of being nailed down.”
“Men do that. Women submit.”
“Uh-oh.”
His face was so innocent and earnest, “They don’t?”
“No.”
“Well, I’ll be darned! The guys I hear, tell it different. They say all those things. I’ve just not yet had the impulse to tackle a woman and train her.”
“Train…her?”
“From what I hear, women come into a marriage thinking they’re in control. It takes guys a tough lot of time just getting them settled. They don’t even have time for friends right at first. The training takes so long and is so hard.”
She scoffed.
“How many married couples have you seen out and about after they’re married? They go on trips by themselves and they come home and lock the doors. A man has it hard.” He shook his head and sighed. “You ought to just hear the tales they tell.”
“What about kids?”
“What about them?”
“Does the dad take a hand in training them?”
“After the potty training and the food being poked into
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