Left-Handed Meat Cutting
When I was eight, Dr. and Mrs. Lee were good friends with mom and dad. One Sunday, Mrs. Lee asked me to go home with her after church. They had a missionary family staying with them and this would give the daughter someone to play with. Mom said yes, but promptly gave me the “Karla, you’d better be on your best behavior” speech. I remembered to put my napkin in my lap when I sat down at the table. But, I was not prepared for the pork chop that adorned my plate, and I knew I was in trouble! Ugh! Being left-handed.
I had NO idea how to cut meat! In fact, I had little abilities to cut much of anything at that time of life – including paper! Those stinkin’ left-handed elementary scissors with the green rubber molded grippers! My fingers got twisted and stuck in there.
I sat at the table staring at it. Mrs. Lee must have noticed and asked if I liked pork chops. I remembered to say yes ma’am, using the manners I was taught. Then I went back to eating all around it. Finally, she leaned toward me and whispered, “Would you like me to cut your meat for you?”
To say I was grateful was an understatement! As I think back on my meat-eating days at home, I can share with little doubt that I bet Mom cut my meat until I left for college! I think watching me holding any kind knife is always scared the right-handers of my family.
Left-Handed Watermelon Cutting
My cutting stories have accumulated over the years. In my late twenties I was in Oregon for a wedding. When I arrived, most family was in town bustling around for the ceremony that was to occur the next day. My aunt’s friend, who I had never met, was there preparing food for the rehearsal dinner. Attempting to be the southern lady that was instilled in me, I timidly walked into the kitchen and offered to help, because manners should always trumps shyness. I guess I did NOT think that one through because it NEVER occurred to me that someone would ask me to cut!
Apparently glad that someone had offered, the lady politely turned around with the biggest watermelon I had ever seen. I grew up in Granddaddy’s eight-acre garden where watermelons grew regularly. So, I had seen my share of large melons–This one was BIG!
She smiled and said, “Sure! Will you cut this into little chunks?”
I went into panic! But, there was no way I was going to tell her I couldn’t nor that I did not want to. That would have been impolite! So, I commenced as Nana would have said. I had to get towel after towel because there was juice running all down the cabinet into the floor. I butchered that watermelon, and it took me two and a half hours to chunk that bad boy! There is no telling what that lady thought as she was watching me, but I can venture to think it might have been something on these lines: Good grief, you left-handed girl! You’re going to cut your fingers off as you are slaughtering that melon and causing a sticky flood in here!
Left-Handed Wedding Cake Cutting
I’d like to say that is the end of the slicing and dicing stories, but that would be a lie. At Donna’s parents’ 40th wedding anniversary, somehow Donna and I ended up behind the cake! Just so you know, Donna is a lefty too, and she cuts about as good as I do! We started giggling simply at the thought of slicing and serving the cake. It was as if we were teenagers back at her house. The more we tried to stop our snickering, the worse it got.
Neither one of us could get up the courage to start dividing up the cake into sections. Instead, we kept trying to convince the other one that she could do it better. Then we’d laugh some more. Finally, her daddy came trotting over, smiled, and scolded us for not getting on with the task. “Gals, get to cuttin’, these people done drove a long way for cake.” With that, we straighten up, and the slaying began.
Left-Handed Potato Peeling
A couple of months ago, I was preparing dinner for the ladies’ small group that meets at my house weekly. Peeling potatoes with this handy-dandy, peel-o-matic thing I brought from a kid’s school fundraiser, I hulled a hunk right out of my pointer finger. It did not quit bleeding for three hours! Sadly, I loaded my bloody finger and my embarrassed pride into the car and headed for the ER.
Now, I share all the above to say I wish Mom could have seen me serve the wedding cake last Sunday for my sweet friend’s daughter. I sliced the moist pieces like a pro!
Disclaimer: Okay, well…
- I was thankful it was dimly lit in the beautifully decorated room where the cakes were displayed.
- I was equally thankful there was a trashcan nearby so I was able to scoot up to the table when no one was looking and rake all the loose chocolate crumbs into it!