Pop the cork, christen the bow
Long (long, long) overdue, here are the new digs at last. Things will be getting tweaked here and there for a few days, so bear with. If you’re here to mind, though, you’re already a saint for your patience.
A big thanks to the Cargo Collective, who, after months of equivocation about how to best showcase my work, proved they had one of the best platforms available. Another huge round of thanks to the guys at Weightshift for their open-source personal page, which turned out to be the exact answer to my dilemma of tying in a whole identity online.
While I’m at it, a big thanks to all of the clients who have kept me too busy to work on this for so long. If you’ve got to have an excuse, that’s the best one as any. And thanks to all the followers and friends who are always there to chime in with something too awfully nice to say.
If you spot something not working the way it should, drop me a line on Twitter or at the new email. It will be entirely my prerogative to ignore it, though, in favor of a false sense of accomplishment and another ice cold beer. For the weekend, anyway.
“But, to the extent that your sanity can bear it, always keep an eye on the corners, the edges, and especially learn to watch for those inﬁnitesimally tiny ﬁgures starting to shufﬂe around near the horizon. Because a lot of the things that seem ridiculously small and inconsequential right now will soon cast a shadow that millions of people are chasing for decades. It’s just that we’re never sure which tiny ﬁgure that will be.”
—Merlin Mann, Watching The Corners
Static & Crickets & Cobwebs & Ghosts
So, it’s been kind of dead around here, huh, folks? (Are there folks? Anymore? Anyone? Oops.)
Allow me, if you will, to sweep aside the cobwebs and triumphantly announce the reason for all of this dust. After blogging for eight years, freelancing for six, not updating this site for two: we’re taking this operation to a whole other level. That is, after nine months of hard, hard labor, during which I could have more easily:
1. had a kid,
2. done something else kind of as hard,
this site is about to be quietly laid to rest, domain and all, and a whole new bright, shiny, lovely one to take its place.
Even with coding my little heart out between projects, though, I am my own most demanding client, and so the new site isn’t going to be ready to roll out on the new domain for another couple of weeks. In the meantime, you can follow me on Twitter, lay odds and wagers, and keep an eye out for things to start looking mighty different around here.
Love & Marriage
“What was that terrible thing you told me about Mrs. Tolstoy?”
“Copied War & Peace for him six times by hand. But you know, it would beat copying most books six times by hand.”
— Ursula K. LeGuin, “Hand, Cup, Shell”
I came here to post another quote when I realized that all I’ve been doing is posting quotes. It’s not my fault, entirely; so many good things to do (and not to do) that I’ve been fall-down-asleep tired every spare minute. Like today, it’s bitterly cold and I’m piling on so many layers I could take a punch to no effect, just so I can treat Emily to the farm before she goes back to her icebox in Indiana.
Life is good. The new year has been successfully, absurdly, wildly rung, in disastrous ways that only serve to make it all the more memorable. I love that the people I love best are with the best people; ones that, even amidst shitstorms of great magnitude, can drive around lost and stranded in the middle of New Years’ night and curse the insanity with incredulous laughter.
And now, back home, early and right on time. Frostbite and flannel, mud-caked jeans and boots; how can anyone fault me for wanting to be only here?
I don’t have a single new year resolution to make.
I can absolutely guarantee, the naps ARE better too
“You should see this place. Man, it’s so beautiful. I mean a Wednesday afternoon at 3:47 is fall-down-the-stairs stunning. We learned to see this. We watched the fireflies come out on the porch and missed the new CSI. Truthfully, we barely look at the television anymore. It’s a side effect of the new place—there’s just so much to do and we’re scared if we let ourselves get distracted we’ll miss the fireflies. We can only take so much tragedy, you see.”
— “We’re not from around here,” Cold Antler Farm