There's a time and a place for everything - even gender roles!

I used to fiercely maintain that men and women should be equal in relationships in all ways at all times. Of course, things NEVER worked out that way in any of my relationships and I learned over time that sometimes that's okay. I've relaxed a bit on the whole gender equality thing as I've realized that men and women are different. Not like THAT - of course we have different parts - I learned that a waaayyy long time ago. We've got different strengths, weaknesses, and brain functions that naturally lead to man-roles and woman-roles. For example, crazy busy multi-tasking - usually a woman thing. Checking out the thing that goes bump in the night - a man thing.

I was thinking about this on our walk today. Brent, Henry, and I logged over 15 miles today, partly on the North Creek trail - a boardwalk through a peat bog. High grasses tower on each side of the trail while swamp water sloshes against the boardwalk. A perfect place to hide a body. I don't think of these things because it's something I'd do - it's because I watched way too many horror movies as a child and I get freaked out really easily to this day. I can't walk through the UW Arboretum without thinking the same thing - it's gotta be on the top of someone's body-hiding list. I'm just sayin' . . . think about it. I will not walk through that place by myself and I was totally weirded out when I walked on the North Creek trail by myself last week. I had a much better time walking with my hubby today.

He's a big guy - 6'8" and muscular. I'm 5'10" and wimpy. I can concede to scrub the toilet more often than he does if he protects me. It just makes sense, right? He walks with me through the parks that rank in the top 10 for body dumpers and he checks out creepy noises in the house at night. It's not that I want to risk his safety over mine, but he's way better equipped to handle a shady situation and could probably even scare off a burglar, or whatever. What's scarier - Brent, a 6'8" man with a tattoo on each bulging deltoid or me, a pasty girl wearing a "please don't hurt me and hide me in the Arboretum" look on my face and flannel penguin pajamas? Don't answer that . . .