DONKEY DETAILS

I have never noticed much. The phrase, "Nothin’ gets by me" is simply something I have never articulated (I think). The fact is: a lot gets by me. Whether it is the color of my condo I have been living in for 9 months, the name of that guy I should definitely remember or palpable and otherwise completely obvious details to everyone except for Old Sal. I credit my artistic tendencies for this fact. I am a writer, a painter (1 course in college) and let’s face it, a left-handed weirdo.

Lefty, South Paw, Freak; Call it what you will, but I tend to favor my left hand. This means I am right-brained, which equals more creativity, bigger-picture thinking and more struggle in general.

For years I have encountered baseball gloves fit for right-handed kids, righty-scissors and the strategically placed ring on your local carnival’s carousal that causes clumsy left-handed children to fall off when they reach for it. Now, I know that reaching for carousal rings is something that has not happened since the 1930s, but I once read about in a book entitled, Left Hander Living in a Right Hand World, or something along those lines. And it was horrifying.

The notebooks with spiral rings on the left forced me to smudge all my work with my awkward, sweaty left palm trailing behind my (talented) writing. Eventually the ink would land on my left cheek, forever branding me “LEFTY” (at least for the day). I will never forget the big production of bringing in a left-handed desk for the ‘different’ kid. And because I was left-handed it was hard for me to learn anything that the teacher taught from the right side of the classroom, which explains my bad grades growing up. Half my bed went unmade each morning do my inept right-sided abilities. I was inclined to do bad things in general, as we all know the devil sits on the left shoulder. Life was hard growing up on the rough streets of my white, righty, middle-to-upper-class suburban neighborhood being a left-handed freak. Life was hard.

The point of my rambling (which has come mostly out of the left side of my mouth) is to tell you I am a creative, big picture, all-details-left-behind kind of person and that is why, my friends and loyal readers, I have failed to notice that Adventures with a Sensitive Sally, when abbreviated, makes me a total A.S.S.

To read about more of my recent discoveries check out the new section of my blog, NEW DISCOVERIES !

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Xoxo
ASS out!

P.S.  To find out if you're left handed, draw a circle.  Did you draw it clockwise?


Yeah, I bet you did, righty.

If you drew the circle counter-clockwise, you are a lefty and should be quite proud!  Click here to find your support group waiting for you!

Cone Shaped Guilt; A short story

There was a part of me that didn’t want to buy the chocolate and peanut butter bugles.

It was the same part of me that looked with disgust at the woman down the aisle in Target who was almost finished with a party sized bag of lay’s potato chips that we’ll never know whether she ended up purchasing.


 

I would NEVER eat chips in a store before buying them.

No. I waited until the car to open the bugles that I just admitted to you I did purchase.

I remember being a kid and eating bugles.

The kids around me would put one cone shaped bugle on each of their tiny fingers.

The bugles never fit on my fingers.

I see why now.

My fingers weren’t fat; the openings of the cones are just tiny!

Apparently all those kids had mutant, infinitesimal fingers.

Freaks, I thought as I stuffed more bugles in my mouth.

I cannot believe they combined bugles with chocolate and peanut butter. Tiny fingered geniuses.

In the end, which came quickly, I realized I can never buy these bugles again.

Speaking of tiny and fingers...