Many people wondered over the decades why I NEVER used proper capitalization when I wrote. The answer is to save time. I can type faster without having to mess with the shift key. Further, I never thought the capitalization merited the extra keystrokes in the type of writing I did. If I ever wrote a book, I would use proper capitalization because I think it would aid in the readability of it. But with the short, silly things I do here, I never thought it mattered enough to be bothered with.

Some have noticed I've started using proper capitalization this week, and are again wondering why. Curiously the answer is the same, to save time. Now the places where I write for this site auto-capitalize everything. I know it is possible to go and mess with settings, but I write and edit things in various places. The way tech runs these days, it has become more effortful to craft everything in lowercase than to just let nature run its grammatically-correct course.

So, in summary, I used to not capitalize things to save time. Now I capitalize things to save time. I know. Confusing. But as Gale Snoats told H.I. McDunnough in Raising Arizona, "This can go hard or easy H.I." That was no lie in 87 and it is no lie now.

I have a standard tennis workout I do when hitting against a practice wall. I will hit fifty forehands, followed by fifty backhands, followed by a hundred mixed single-bounce balls. That's a set. Then I do some pushups and squats and a few other equally dull things in between. I try to do six sets per session, so it is a routine I've become pretty competent at over the last few years.

I was in the middle of one of these workouts and hitting forehands. I found a nice groove and was striking the ball cleanly, which meant each return came right back to me so I could just pivot, prep and swing again. I had hit maybe twenty straight as an older guy, who looked to be in his late sixties or early seventies, came shuffling by on his way to a neighboring court. As he passed, he said, "It looks like you are either really beating that guy or he is really taking it to you. I can't tell which." He then gave a boyish smirk and continued his foot-scraping gait past me to meet his buddies.

I kinda love old guys.

a new TROYSCRIPT was posted today. brick-dumb

When searching through my email for a work matter, I stumbled upon this forgotten diamond from a fourteen-year-old Aleo. Yes, it may appear to have been written at academic-gunpoint, but it is still an all-net, three-pointer on this father's scorecard.

Last Christmas, I got a piece of sand art as a gift. It is a twelve-inch disc that rests in a plastic base. Half of it is filled with grains of sand of varying colors, sizes, and weights. The other half is filled with a liquid, which I assume is water. When you flip it over, the sand on the top half will slowly and unpredictably fall towards the base. This is the art part, watching the sand slowly...