The injured arm snug in a Canadian mitten.
Concentrating!
All hail my left hand! You have done yourself proud today! Not only did you manage to get me in and out of my bath unscathed but you dressed me single handedly too. What a feat! I fear that I owe you an apology.
All these years you have hung around at my side playing second fiddle. I have never allowed you to shine, never taken cogniscance of your hidden potential. You have endured derogatory name calling and have been insulted with words like ‘cack –handed.’ But all that will change now that you are ‘my right hand man.’
A recent skiing accident put my right hand into a state of temporary dormancy. Suddenly mundane tasks like brushing one’s teeth, take on a whole new meaning. In order to carry out these simple deeds old synapses had to be woken up and refired. The left hand that was once merely the spectator is now the active player. In fact it has been observed by my family that I am being more thorough with certain jobs. This is because they are being completed with such concentration and deliberation. Hopefully my dentist will notice a difference on my next visit.
My culinary practices are being tested too. I must add that I am a no nonsense chef! I usually produce lashings of tasty food in record time, as it is what my family demands. This has all had to change with my novice assistant, the left hand. My lengthy daily escapades next to the stove consist of dreaming up novel ways to unscrew a cap or open a sealed packet. It has required some lateral thinking and I have come up with some ingenious methods which I am thinking of patenting some day. They include using the grip of my hip against my broken arm and using the ‘said arm’ like a claw. This inventive grip enables narrow objects to slide between my bruised fingers without applying pressure to the ‘broken bits.’ I never realized how valuable it was to be able to merely hold onto something. It allows me to carry out a few tricky maneuvers when cooking the evening meal. However, I do pollute the air with a few choice words in the process!
So the learning curve continues with its challenges that still need to be mastered….like putting on the ‘morning face.’ A touch of eye pencil, the odd bit of panel beating and a smudge of lipstick is all part of this execution. Another challenge is meeting Josh’s needs. I have to grip a boisterous dog on our daily stroll and pick up the morning turd simultaneously. The delightful package then has to be knotted up into a biodegradable plastic bag to be dispensed with at a later stage. There is much lip curling and grimacing when the knot is being tied. My nimble leftie is certainly working hard for her living.
Toronto Calling 