Children--both girls and boys--pretty much take up residence with men in "Or." That lasts, for girls, until they grow up and get married. Then, although it looks like they're living right beside their men, those married females will find a chasm begin to split their living rooms. They'll be looking at their men sitting on couches with beers in their hands, watching a televised sporting event and they'll hear the chasm screech and rumble as it opens. They'll have wanted their men to fix plumbing or/and change light bulbs, but the game comes first. They'll be in kitchens checking meat loaves and in laundry rooms checking drying clothes before they cuddle close to watch the field goal kick. They'll have missed the touchdown because they were seasoning those loaves of meat.

They may not even sit to watch. They'll just stand there for a second or two with dish towels in their hands.

They're in "And Land".

And when they have children, it's almost impossible to move to "Or".

Right now, in my "In-And-Land" life, I am typing this "And Land"ditty and thinking of what to wear to work tomorrow...and the lack of milk in the refrigerator thought just whisked through my "And Land" brain. And/But I'm sipping a glass of wine and smiling, so it's all good right now. "And Land" feels manageable. 

But sometimes, I want to live where most men live. I want to live in "Or." I want to sit down and watch the Marlins, the Heat, or the Dolphins. I want to watch any one of those teams--and I don't care which one it is (although I recently saw a video featuring LeBron James and I found him sincere and funny, so I think LeBron's smiling earnestness as he encouraged Florida's children to "kick FCAT butt" has a Heat game as my first choice)--and not fold laundry and listen for oven timers. In "Or", people do one thing or another. They don't do two things at a time, let alone dance the intricate "Dance of And" we females undertake. They don't even think of two or more things at a time. They get down to the business of this thing, then that thing and then that. "I am going to clean the garage then I will mow." they might say. Getting down to business is important to "Or" dwellers.

My husband, an "Or" dweller for sure, has for years teased me, an "And Lander", about, for instance, my planning dinner while we eat breakfast. I munch toast and scrambled eggs and make grocery lists for dinner. "How about pasta with marinara?" I might say. "Maybe a salad..."

Early in our marriage, we'd do yard work together. I'd mow and he would trim. He got used to looking up from whacking weeds and seeing an unattended mower. I'd have gone into the kitchen to chop vegetables for dinner.

In "And Land" residents do things AND they do lots of other things. For example, I eat breakfast and unload the dish washer. As I eat that breakfast--most often a piece of toast and peanut butter--I've got a dish towel in hand wiping the collected water from bottoms of glasses in the dish washer before putting them on shelves. And I'm thinking about homework and book bags and if pencils are sharpened. I might even stop the wiping of dishes and plow into a book bag when the "Are-pencils-sharpened?" thought strikes. And I'll have the toast clamped between my teeth because I need two hands to get through my children's book bag messes.

In "And Land" residents think of lots of things at the same time, so to live in "Or" I have to do something about my thoughts too. "Or" brains think of one thing or another--not two things at once. Thoughts travel through "Or" brains' fissures like strings of DNA. Sometimes "Or" brains fondle and caress an idea. Sometimes they kick it out and move on to the next. 

"And Land" brains are different. "And Land" brains' thoughts are more like balls of thought yarn. Years of ideas are wrapped tightly into yarn balls so large they could be displayed at county fairs. "Get your ticket! Not to be believed! Biggest "And Land" thought ball in the WORLD! 

You will not believe the mess this woman created..."

Mine is a county fair worthy--maybe prize winning--"And Land" thought yarn ball. Maybe I'll pin a first place ribbon on it and put it on a shelf here in my "new home" in "Or."

Or maybe I'll just let the cat play with it.

Or maybe I'll sell it at a garage sale.

Or donate it to a museum.

Or maybe not any of that.