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Gosh, it has been pretty quiet around my pad lately. Let’s see what Robin’s been up to:

I made a meatloaf for Monday’s dinner. Used leftover meatloaf for a doorstop on Tuesday. 

Sorted, washed, and folded 6 loads of laundry. I’m still missing 5 socks. They don’t miss me.

Took a toothbrush to the mold in my shower grout. It wasn’t pretty.

Was Freshly Pressed on Friday.

Walked the dog 3.14159265 times around the block (His favorite number is Pi).

Threw out the last of the Thanksgiving turkey. Thank GAWD that is over.

Whoa, wait, hang on . . . Did I say I was Freshly Pressed!? Yes indeed-y-doo!

Moi? Freshly Pressed? Here's the proof. I may frame it.

Moi? Freshly Pressed? Here’s the proof. I tattooed this screenshot on my bicep.

Imagine my surprise and delight when I received an email from the darling Michelle at WordPress telling me my post “Is Cursive Handwriting Dead?” was to be Freshly Pressed. I offered to adopt Michelle, but she politely declined and then called the cops. Smart move Michelle, but thank you for Freshly Pressing me.

Since being Freshly Pressed yesterday, my in-box is flooded with likes, comments, and follows. It is the coolest thing EVER. Overwhelming, but super fun.

The conversation and emotional response over cursive handwriting’s elimination from 48 state’s school curricula has been lively. Almost visceral. While not scientific, my gut says the majority of the commenters believe cursive handwriting should not kick the bucket.

There is richness to words committed to paper by hand, not keystroke. Cursive forces you to think, pause, and breathe before you write, unlike when you hammer out an email. Somehow a love letter typed on a computer loses some of its sex appeal. Imagine if Romeo sent Juliette a text saying, “Yo, Juliette. Come out on the balcony.”

Sure, sure, sure . . . there were a few folks who commented on the post and said, “Wake up and smell the printer ink, Robin. Cursive is so last decade.” However, a fair number of teenagers and college students agreed here that cursive should be saved. The comments from the electronic-agers give me hope.

Here are a few of the clever comments for your reading pleasure.

Sunsetmeandyou said, “Last year, I wrote a letter to my grandma, scanned it and then emailed it to my dad so he could print it and give it to her the very same day!  Call it full use of technology or the eagerness to send her the letter asap!”

Jiltaroo said her son may never “experience the joy of waiting weeks for a letter to come and hungrily read those words from a country on the other side of the world. Emails have all but extinguished the need for this romantic angst.”

Dennis Langley said, “Hmmm. That sounds like why teach math because we have calculators. Why teach how to play music when we have iPods.”

TimKeen40 said, “But don’t despair. Soon, those who can master it will be able to lend their services to people who have all these letters written by their great-grandfathers that are essentially written in a foreign language. A little mini-industry will emerge at least for a time.”

Now if you will excuse me, I need to respond to six-kagillion comments.

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