"Is anyone here left-handed?"

This phrase has struck fear into my heart since childhood. Any lefty will tell you answering yes means suffering for your right-brain tendencies.

When I was young, there were no "special" left-handed tools, including scissors. While the artwork of other children looked promising, mine always looked as if I had severe neurological problems which neccessitated chewing my paper apart as opposed to cutting it. The desks were awful. While the privileged righties could comfortably rest their elbows, mine was perched in the air ready to be hit by every person that walked down the aisle between the desks.

Sports were no better. I played softball and, although I wasn't very good, I was okay. Until my coach decided that batting from the left side was costing me valuable seconds running to first after hitting the ball. He had the perfect solution, "we'll just have you bat from the right side...no big deal." I never hit the ball again and he never associated it with asking me to switch to right-handed batting. Apparently, I was just in a "slump" for the next three years.

College was no better. I started as a Graphic Design major and was required to take a lettering class. "Are there any left-handers here?" the professor asked the first day. Another girl and I slowly raised our hands in the air and our eyes met tiredly across the room. We both knew what this meant. At least the professor was honest and told us this would be a "long semester for the both of you." Since we were doing hand-lettering, this meant using nibs and wet ink. Now, as most of you know, when we lefties write, our left hand drags over what we've just written. But, if it's wet ink, you can't let your hand drag through it or your project is ruined. So, what do you do? Well, you learn to write sideways. That's right, I spent an entire semester learning to turn a piece of paper on its side and writing letters sideways so my hand wouldn't drag through them.

Last night, I went to my first weaving class. I've always been interesting in weaving and a beginner and intermediate class was being held near where I live. So, I'm going along and have my warp ready to put on the loom. As I and the other beginner in the class stood there, the instructor said, "Now, neither one of you is left-handed, are you?"

You've got to be kidding!!!!! Being left-handed makes a difference in weaving?!?!?!?!?! Well, apparently, when you're sleying the reed (which in my case meant threading 132 pieces of yarn through thin pieces of metal in a wooden frame), it makes a difference in which side you start on, which hand to hold the yarn in, which hand controls the needle, etc. It took her about twenty minutes to figure it all out. The other beginner in the class was pretty much finished with this part before I ever got started.

And I'm sure all you left-brain people out there are chortling to yourselves right now.