Dear Crabby,
My wife expects me to cook half of all our meals. I think that is ridiculous! Why should I have to do woman’s work when she is not offering to change the oil in my truck or build us a new deck in the backyard?
Sincerely, Male C. Pig
Dear Male C. Pig,
Well buddy, if I had received this letter 50 years ago, I would not be as shocked as I am today. When I was growing up, there were certain ideals and expectations of women in our culture. You know, kind of like June Cleaver on the old TV show “Leave it to Beaver?” Women were to cook, clean, have babies, and always smile. Then one day they started attending college, getting the right to vote, putting men out of jobs, and even getting elected to office! So now the only thing left to change is us men. We are supposed to cook and clean and sometimes even stay at home and raise the babies. It’s supposed to be equal pay and equal rights though. You and your lovely bride need to work out a fair 
trade between the outdoor chores and the indoor chores. We tried this half and half stuff, but it failed miserably! I am horrible in the kitchen. One year I decided to try to make pancakes from scratch for Mrs. Crabby on her birthday. The instructions said to mix thoroughly, so I pulled out her mixer and turned it on high. I was so frustrated when the soupy mix was running all over the skillet, but Mrs. Crabby was highly entertained and took over from there. On another occasion I was asked to make some cream of wheat for our son. I read the box and went to work. He kept saying things like, “That’s not how mom does it!” and expressing other concerns. I just went right along and even took a few shortcuts to speed it up in order to really impress him. What I pulled out of the microwave was a turtle-shell like surface that smelled like burnt fiberglass. The box said to add more water if the consistency is too hard. So I poured some water over it and jammed a knife into it about 20 times. My son’s eyes were as wide as oranges and then he started laughing. I told him to hush up and go eat some cold cereal like everyone else! My last blunder, before the FDA retired my ability to cook again, was when I tried to make some waffles. Mrs. Crabby was away for the morning and one of my kids asked for waffles. The box said to melt some Crisco on the stovetop. So I measured out the correct amount of Crisco, and to save dishes, I used the glass-measuring cup to hold it while it was on the stovetop. All of the sudden while I was getting the other ingredients ready, we all heard a loud bang and the Crisco went all over the kitchen! I had no idea why, but when I told my wife what happened, her face went pale and she just kept repeating how glad she was that the glass didn’t explode and impale our innocent children. So now we do not discuss who does the cooking. I just stick to the outdoor duties and she handles the inside ones! Good luck, and let me know how it turns out for you!
Sincerely, Dear Crabby
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