Start at the very beginning

Hey Ho~

I've been writing all my life, as far back to when I could first grip a crayon.
Then there came markers.
Charcooal pencils and rollerball pens.
Ink and quills.
Typewriters.
Bathroom walls.
Fan readers, Myspace and Facebook.

And now, Blogspot.

A real blogspot of my very own. Setting this up was as easy as learning to write with my right hand. (I'm left handed).

Which takes me to my first wee story.......

Sent to Catholic school by the noble wishes of my mother, transported from the farm to the bigger city on a bus that took me an hour each way to Sacred Heart School. First grade was fun and we were all new to each other. Second grade was daunting and hard work.

You see, I did not realize until then, that my left hand was an instrument of the devil.
The nuns knew this, and plotted with each other to save my soul and to make me an acceptable human being by forcing me to write with my right hand.

It was like trying to wiggle out of a straight jacket.

They would see me doing my circles for penmanship time, come by my desk, take the pencil from my left hand, make me grip it "just so" with my right hand and encourage me to do the circles that way.

The circles looked demented.

They didn't feel right.

So after their long black gown had swished by my desk, and they were tormenting some other child in the room, I would switch hands again, and put the pencil back into my left hand. OH! The beautiful circles they could make so easily!

Then the nun would see my joy, or sniff it in the air, and she would come swooping back to my seat, 3 row over, 4th seat back, in the folding metal and wooden desk units and now, she was not so giving or nice.
Now she ripped the pencil from my hand, forced it into my right, with a pinch and a stern warning for next time.

She would then turn her evil eye towards another child and float off to reprimand them in turn.

I was a stubborn lass. I did not feel right using my right hand. I was WILLFUL. I wanted to WIN. I was not going to do something that didn't feel right, no matter if it was the hand of God giving me direct knowledge.

I put the pencil back in my LEFT HAND and looked straight at the nun's back.

She whipped around, having sensed my defiance.

This time she came with retribution in the form of a ruler slapped against my demonic left hand. Not flat side down, no. Metal edge side down. Tears welled up in my eyes. The pencil was forced into my RIGHT HAND again. She was pleased and stood by my desk for a few lingering moments to make sure I did my duty.

But I was then, and am now, a PIRATE.

I showed her my awkward right handed circles. She withdrew from my now chastised space, with tears dripping on my desk, and with a smug smile she went about her hovering over the other wayward children.

I made a decision. I would HIDE my left hand. I would feign using my right when she was looking. I would become duplicitous in order to please myself and authority.

I was eventually found out and after several more beatings...and the ultimate acquiesence and shaking head of the disbelieving Mother Superior.... .I was allowed to be left-handed.

I was also cursed to hell for it at the ripe old age of seven.

Interestingly enough, in Scripture, the number seven symbolizes completeness or perfection.

I was now an Ambidextrous.Pirate..