The Person With Two Left Gloves

This is Deputy Digby Pancake. Some persons say that they have two left feet when they dance.

Or maybe they are like Girl Person and just a tad bit clumsy.

Just because you can’t dance like others think dancing should look, or you trip over your own feet, who cares? I certainly don’t. And I also think that the person here with two left gloves should be given a break. He’s the talk of the town. He’s fresh. Exciting. Mysterious.

If you know Boy Person, you know that he likes to run for fun. He likes to run when raining. Hot. Windy. He likes to run in that Florida place, that Utah place, that Alabama place. All the places.

But when it’s been snowing this week and cold beyond cold, even Boy Person has been questioning his admiration for putting two legs in front of the other in a hurried manner.

So Boy Person has taken matters into his own hands. He wears lots of pants. All the pants. He wears lots of shirts. All the shirts. He wears lots of jackets and hats and all of them. You see, apparently persons from Florida don’t like to admit it’s cold and that they are in the cold.

So they refuse to buy the necessary precautions in order not to freeze.

And then, when they find themselves in an arctic blast of sorts, they realize they have gloves. But only gardening gloves. And that other pair of gloves? Well. One should be for your right hand. One should be for your left hand. But nope. You have two left hand gloves. You become the person with two left gloves wearing two left gloves.

You then proceed to do what you do and run. In that Tennessee place. That cold Tennessee place. And because you like to be nice, you wave and say hello to the many persons along the road. And you forget you have two left gloves. And you can’t figure out why persons are scared of you. Why they look the other way. You’re just trying to be a friendly, gloved fellow.

Yes. This left glove man is Boy Person. And as he continued to run in a hurried manner this week, he wore his gloves. He wore a mask over his face. He became a sort of urban legend. Except he was not a myth of a man. He was a real man. The two left gloves man.

First, he waved at some other persons having some drinks and talking by the river one day. He said hello. He picked up some trash. He waved. They looked away that day. And the day after that. And all the days after that. Yet the two left gloves man didn’t know why. He was just. Waving.

Then, he waved at people on picnics. People walking dogs. People being people on a Monday and Tuesday and all the days. And they all looked away. Who was this man? And the two left gloves man didn’t know why.

It wasn’t until he saw his reflection and was so nice that he waved at himself and bid himself a good day that he realized it. He. Looked. Different.

And everything all fit together like a solved puzzle for the two left gloves man.

Persons didn’t understand his choice of attire. And the two left gloves man realized that those who look different or act different experience this everyday. Persons may turn away. Persons may be indifferent or maybe mean. That’s hard to deal with every day. So hard.

I wonder what makes persons feel uncomfortable when someone appears different than what they consider normal. What makes persons not want to be polite to all? If you’re wearing two left gloves in life, be proud. If you see someone with two left gloves in life, be kind. The world should be like an everything bagel!

The more different things and seasonings on it, the better it tastes! Just don’t try to eat one with two left gloves.

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The Picnic Table Trail

This is Deputy Digby Pancake. Have you ever felt stir crazy? Like you wanna stir pancake batter like crazy? Or like Brickle when he goes crazy from being inside too long?

That’s how we are feeling. First the snow. Now the cold. It’s so cold that Girl Person can’t be outside much.

And it makes that Depression Monster huge. So big it’s hardly fitting in this sardine can of an RV.

As usual, it’s up to me to bring some happy to everyone. Just call it the Digby Delivery Service.

24/7 is what my working hours are. Unless it’s dinner time. Snack time. Breakfast. Lunch. Any other time is fine.

Bringing some happy isn’t as easy as you might think.

Sometimes I have to come up with creative ideas. Outside the box. Or under the picnic table.

Since we haven’t been able to go anywhere for a few days, I decided that J would make up a new trail for myself. And I call it the Picnic Table Trail. It’s totally dog friendly. And instead of the persons picking up after us, we are picking up after you.

You see, I find all the trash and food you leave behind. It’s a win win for us all.

Girl Person doesn’t particularly care for this trail. She doesn’t like us eating unmentionable things. She doesn’t like us getting stuck underneath the tables. She doesn’t like that we pull as hard as we can to take her to every picnic table. But it’s not my fault. It’s the Picnic Table Trail. What else am I supposed to do? I love picnic tables. And what’s under them. Around them.

The Picnic Table Trail does another job. It makes Girl Person forget she’s depressed. It occupies her mind and her time. And you can do it in the snow, the rain, the sunshiney. But wow. We sure miss sunshiney.

We somehow have to get this Depression Monster out of here. But it’s not wanting to leave. We will be here in this Gatlingburg. Tennessee place until Tuesday.

We have more to see, even if we have to ride around in a warm car to see it.

But for me, even if we only can go on the Picnic Table Trail, that’s ok by me. Happy isn’t dependent on a place. Or weather.

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Happy is dependent on each one of us.

Life is hard sometimes and your heart may feel cold. But find a way to warm it up. And if someone else needs you to help them, make up your own trail. What would it be called? Can I come along?

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