As I wrote a couple of posts ago I recently managed to damage my index finger while assembling an incredibly easy to put together piece of furniture. As a result I’m under doctors orders to keep the damaged finger clean, dry and splinted in order to speed the healing. Since the finger is on my right (dominant) hand I’ve discovered that’s it’s a royal pain in the butt to live one’s life with your finger in the air.
First of all it’s almost impossible to do anything quickly. Ever tried to brush your teeth with your off hand? It ain’t easy. I tried to use my right hand to do it while keeping my finger in the air, but poking myself in the eye at 6:00 a.m. cured me of that. I won’t discuss another, uh, grooming matter that’s difficult to do with your off hand, but suffice it to say that it sets one off kilter if you know what I mean.
While I was struggling with my personal grooming it occurred to me that I should have forced myself to live left handed for a week when my kids were toddlers. I would have been SO much more sympathetic to their efforts at brushing, wiping and dressing. I remember being very impatient with them and it never dawned on me that maybe they were so much slower than I wanted them to be because they’d had about 1/1000th the experience I had and their little muscles weren’t exactly coordinated yet. I’m thinking that maybe one of the things they should teach expecting parents at those God awful birthing classes is that when the kids enter the toddler stage the parents should spend a minimum of a week living without use of their dominant hands so that they can be empathetic with their children.
I’ve also been pondering my finger as a metaphor. If my life has slowed down with my finger literally stuck in the air, then it stands to reason that I am slowed down when I constantly keep my finger in the air figuratively speaking. Does it really matter who said what about which presidential candidate? Do I really need to pay attention to all the windbags out there telling me that the end of the world is ‘nigh? Really I don’t. Always trying to see which way the prevailing winds of public opinion are blowing is a suckers bet, and I think I’ve tended to take that bet too often. I’m thinking that the time has come to tune out the noise and concentrate on what matters; family, friends, job, community. If I do that then the rest should take care of itself. Besides, I need all my concentration to learn how to live left handed.



You may recall that we adopted a puppy when we returned from our vacation in early August. Mia’s been an, uh, interesting addition to the family. If nothing else she’s annoyed the heck out of the elder statesman of the house, Arthur. They’re constantly
Actually she’s been quite the influence on him. For instance she’s taught him there’s no reason to accept confinement and now the two of them regularly collaborate to break out of various rooms, pens, etc. She’s also given him amnesia when it comes to manners. Before Mia’s arrival he never sniffed at things on the table, or jumped to get treats out of your hand. Now he’s acting like a reprobate and we’re having to remind him that we don’t have to put up with that mess. Thankfully you only have to tell him once. Mia, on the other hand, gets me to talking like I did 10 years ago when the kids were toddlers. “No, no, no, no…NO” and “Down, down, down, down…DOWN” and “Shhh, shhh, shhh, Shut Up!” are now the most often heard sentences in our house, and usually they’re followed by strangled curses like “Son of bi-gerching. What did you just do, dabberflabbit. You little shicker…aw, dadgummit I just stepped in this pile of -, OH MAN MY NEW SHOES! One of you kids better get this mutt outta here before I sell her for parts.”