Today is National Handwriting Day.
I write like the would-be chicken sacrifice from a B-movie voodoo ritual that tripped on a bowl of blood as it bolted for the door, little claws scraping out a frantic, "I hear the fish is much better here, why don't you try that instead?" as it fled, but that doesn't mean I don't appreciate beautiful penmanship.
I used to enjoy getting letters from my aunt Kathryn in particular, just so I could look at the graceful swirls of her writing.
If I slow down to a snail's crawl, I can produce something the approaches legibility, but at even half of my normal speed, everything disintegrates. Maybe it's a left-handed thing, maybe it's a sign I shouldn't have bailed on med school, as I do have the stereotypical doctor's scrawl.
Anyway, to those practitioners of a perhaps dying art, seize the pen! Your clumsy fans will tap out their applause on the nearest user-friendly keyboard.