I'd give an arm and a leg. No, just an arm.

I've been thinking recently about the uselessness of my left arm.  My left arm is like sesame seeds on hamburger buns.  Both could disappear, and I wouldn't even notice.  My right arm, on the other hand, well, that's my money maker!  It's the arm I use to carry the kidlet and chop vegetables and scrapbook and pick my nose.  Granted, my superior aptitude at all of those things is also due to the work done by my right hand and the fingers on said hand.  Sometimes, when I stand naked in front of a mirror, I expect my right arm to be all big and buff like Popeye's and my left arm to look like Kate Moss's circa 1995.  But surprisingly, they both look pretty similar. 

So anyway, I cropped last week with the usual gang.  As usual, Stephanie picked me up from the train station and drove me to Memory Lane.  She only hit me twice this time, but she has taken to kicking me in the shins.  I know I should stand up for myself, but I can't crop without her transporting me to and fro.  I guess it's just the price I have to pay for my craft.