I love men, I’ll admit. I used to be a big fan. I remember when I was 21 ~ married with two small children and we went over to a friend’s house from work. His name was Brian Dunbar. I don’t really remember his wife’s name, sorry. Anyhow, they invited us over for supper and when we got there, his wife looked at me (I’m sure she was probably only around 26 or 27) and she said, “Let’s let the men talk in here and let us women go into the kitchen.”

 

       I wanted to cry. I stared at Brian with eyes begging him --- pleading with him ---- urging him . . . to somehow rescue me. LET US WOMEN GO INTO THE KITCHEN??? Pleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeease!!!!!!!!!!!

 

       Since I was a guest, I went. But I spent the whole time wondering about the exciting things Brian and Brian were talking about rather than the incredibly boring things like spices and bread raising --- make-up ---- handbags ---- ugh!!!!!!!!

 

       I’ve always been a fan of men, it’s true.  That’s why I’m surprised at myself for being such a sexist these days.

 

     We were having supper with two interns --- girls in their mid-20s ---- both from Dallas and interning here in Kenya for 6 months to work with orphans, the other night.