I can throw pretty well with my right hand. At least half way down the bit of beach I am slowly clearing of concrete. But my left hand. Well, not so much.
I've tried using my right hand throwing action to demostrate to my left hand what it should be doing - but it just turfs the rock somewhere near my feat (and once at my head!). I've thought about how my shoudlers move. I've remembered the original throwing advice which got my right arm to where it is now. But no progress.
It is excessively odd. I'm usually reasonably ambidexterous. If I can do it with my right hand, I know how it should feel if I reversed the movements. And if I know how something should feel, I can make a good fist of making it happen. But not with this throwing thing. It is as close as I can imagine to what having a stroke must feel like. I *know* what should happen, but my body is point blank refusing to obey me.
And all the while I was waving my arms around and looking like an idiot, a little, old dog was politely wandering around. Most little dogs are excitable. This one was the calmest being I've seen in years. It even sat down and watched the sunset over the water. And it had no apparent owner. I've never felt humbled by a dog before. But this one, yes.
Posted by carla at August 14, 2003 11:25 PM