I pretty much have carte blanche over at the food blog, and it’s been really fun coming up with ideas for posts. I LOVE what I do there. Once a month, for instance, I attempt an intimidating recipe, and talk about the process and results very frankly (risotto went well, mayonnaise not so much). But other than that, topics settled themselves quite naturally: Nadine, the other blogger (whose personal blog, Les Zimparfaites, is among the biggest parenting blogs here -cough, slightly humbling, cough) most often posts about recipes, tips and little discoveries she’s made; usually, practical, day-to-day stuff. I, on the other hand, like to talk about books, and places or events, but also, like it’s probably the case here, often veer towards the society/reflection/musing aspects. I talked about comfort food, and time for cooking, and raising good eaters, and the impact of social media on food companies, and pizza-as-a-vegetable, and Paula Deen’s diabetes. Anyways.
A few weeks ago I thought about discussing being left-handed (which I proudly am) in a right-handed world. Of course over there it had to be articulated around food somehow, so it ended up being mostly about the essential cooking utensils a leftie needs to survive in a kitchen. But while doing my research I came across a ton of interesting information and wanted to share it here.
Being left-handed is clearly, scientifically speaking, some kind of a human abnormality. (Many, many parallels have been drawn with homosexuality, which has fascinating similarities, but I hesitate to directly qualify that as “abnormal” (in the Darwinian sense re: gays don’t reproduce) because, obviously, I don’t think it is morally!) According to my mother, I showed my preference extremely early on, and at 6 months she already knew I would be a leftie –doctors usually worry about genetic defects or neurological damage in this case!
I am definitely odd. Worse than that, I love to be. It’s my quirk, my identity.