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So here I was, getting adjusted to a new life, when I entered into this relationship.  That started the tug-of-war known as the proverbial battle-of-the-sexes.  It was time for both of us to develop new skills and laugh at ourselves as we stumbled around the kitchen.

The aha! moment came when we realized that our battles were waged in the name of love and honor.  Now he snorks and I leer, and we appreciate the different people that we are.  It is challenging to learn how to dance with your new partner.  And that is what Second Life is all about...doing the same things better while being better at being ourselves.

The kitchen is where the power is.  Powerful are those who mess up and those who clean up in the kitchen.  This isn’t a joke.  We keep people close or keep them at a distance depending on how they relate to our kitchen.

For instance:

I do not eat meat.  It is not allowed to come into my kitchen.  Anyone who brings it in is relegated to the porch no matter what the weather is.  Vegetables, grains and fruits are welcome any time, but they have to be fresh, washed, and not made with meat soups or sauces.  Mine has been called a Mediterranean diet.  Add fish or cheese and I have my perfect meal.

I live with a wonderful man who I call Phang (not Phyllis Diller’s Fang).  He is a rip-roaring meat eater; a bar-b-q fanatic who loves that beef, pork and even lamb.  He and his leftovers are relegated to the porch.  Better to just overeat at the bar-b-q place than to bring that stuff home.  I know this will offend meat lovers, but truthfully, it reminds me of the neighbor’s cat bringing home a bird.

Then there is the washing and loading of the dishes.  Some folks like to put all the dishes and pots in the dishwasher.  Phang washes the pots and all the large serving dishes by hand.  So the dishwasher doesn’t get run that evening and there is a heap of dripping pots and dishes on the counter.  That saves on energy but wastes water and destroys my manicure. 

It’s a different story if we are washing my china, crystal and silver.  There is some dignity in treating these 

as fine objects.  It’s akin to respecting your elders. 

In every kitchen there is the drop area.  It’s the place where everything goes first, then gets sorted and then goes somewhere else.  This includes the mail, papers that haven’t been read yet, purses and keys.  The designated counter is not the glass kitchen table.  It’s a workhorse counter that can stand up to the daily drops.  This is the third kitchen frontier.

It used to be that a kitchen desk was standard in every home.  But no desk was large enough to do the job.  That is, unless you institute the one-drop rule.  That’s not the rule for eating food that has dropped on the floor.  It’s the rule that says if you pick up a bill, you pay it and mail it the same day.  It’s the same for newspapers.  They are to be read and put in the recycling on the same day.

Phang’s mail and newspapers can last on the counter for a full week.  I move them to his side; he moves them back to the counter in the middle.  I would move them to my side, but that’s already filled with magazines I haven’t read and the grandkids’ artwork.  These have much more staying power and I like to look at them more than once.  Actually, I just don’t really know where they should go.

When we started living together, I expected the power play would be in the bedroom.  But it looks like control of the house is really determined in the kitchen.   And I like a man in the kitchen.

Susanne Katz is a divorce coach with Mt Vernon Counseling, coauthor of A Woman's Guide to Managing a Mid-Life Divorce, an arts and living columnist for Atlanta Jewish News.com.  She is also a regular on ShareWIK.com.

More Susanne Katz articles, click here.

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