Posts in the Personal Category

Week One

Published 1 week, 6 days past

The first week on the job at Igalia was… it was good, y’all.  Upon formally joining the Support Team, got myself oriented, built a series of tests-slash-demos that will be making their way into some forthcoming posts and videos, and forked a copy of the Mozilla Developer Network (MDN) so I can start making edits and pushing them to the public site.  In fact, the first of those edits landed Sunday night!  And there was the usual setting up accounts and figuring out internal processes and all that stuff.

A series of tests of the CSS logical property ';block-border'.
Illustrating the uses of border-block.

To be perfectly honest, a lot of my first-week momentum was provided by the rest of the Support Team, and setting expectations during the interview process.  You see, at one point in the past I had a position like this, and I had problems meeting expectations.  This was partly due to my inexperience working in that sort of setting, but also partly due to a lack of clear communication about expectations.  Which I know because I thought I was doing well in meeting them, and then was told otherwise in evaluations.

So when I was first talking with the folks at Igalia, I shared that experience.  Even though I knew Igalia has a different approach to management and evaluation, I told them repeatedly, “If I take this job, I want you to point me in a direction.”  They’ve done exactly that, and it’s been great.  Special thanks to Brian Kardell in this regard.

I’m already looking forward to what we’re going to do with the demos I built and am still refining, and to making more MDN edits, including some upgrades to code examples.  And I’ll have more to say about MDN editing soon.  Stay tuned!


First Day at Igalia

Published 2 weeks, 6 days past

Today is my first day as a full-time employee at Igalia, where I’ll be doing a whole lot of things I love to do: document and explain web standards at MDN and other places, participate in standards work at the W3C, take on some webmaster duties, and play a part in planning Igalia’s strategy with respect to advancing the web.  And likely other things!

I’ll be honest, this is a pretty big change for me.  I haven’t worked for anyone other than myself since 2003.  But the last time I did work for someone else, it was for Netscape (slash AOL slash Time Warner) as a Standards Evangelist, a role I very much enjoyed.  In many ways, I’m taking that role back up at Igalia, in a company whose values and structure are much more in line with my own.  I’m really looking forward to finding out what we can do together.

If the name Igalia doesn’t ring any bells, don’t worry: nobody outside the field has heard of them, and most people inside the field haven’t either.  So, remember when CSS Grid came to browsers back in 2017?  Igalia did the implementation that landed in Safari and Chromium.  They’ve done a lot of other things besides that—some of which I’ll be helping to spread the word about—but it’s the thing that web folks will be most likely to recognize.

This being my first day and all, I’m still deep in the setting up of logins and filling out of forms and general orienting of oneself to a new team and set of opportunities to make a positive difference, so there isn’t much more to say besides I’m stoked and planning to say more a little further down the road.  For now, onward!


Forever and Ever

Published 8 months, 4 weeks past

We had been awake since one in the morning.  She had been unconscious since three in the morning.

We’d been taking turns sleeping with Rebecca in the nights leading up to that day, six years ago today, and on the final night it had been my turn.  I was woken by a sound, from her or by her I still don’t know, and I saw that she was awake.  And had vomited.  And still could barely move.  And I knew this was it.

Kat called the hospice nurse to come and give her the drugs to take away the pain, and we waited, sick with despair and doing everything we could not to show it.

We gently held her as she trembled.  We kissed her head through her curly hair, told her that we were here with her and that she could go, not to be afraid, we’d be there with her soon.  Lying to her, now, finally, so far past the point where truth was kind or helpful, telling her whatever we thought would take away even a tiny slice of the fear.  Shamelessly, literally shamelessly, weaponizing all the trust we had built up over the years by telling her the truth her whole life, to ease, if we could, the last hours of it.

Her eyes were wide, even for her.  They barely blinked.  We could still catch her attention, but it was so much harder now.  The trembling increased, and then, eyes somehow still wider, she started to claw frantically at her temples, trying to dig out the thing that was killing her.  Or just to somehow relieve the pain.

I had to restrain her, catch her small wrists in my hands, wrap my arms around her arms and shaking small body and brokenly tell her no, stop, I know, I know, I’m so sorry, we want it to stop too, I know, we love you.

The nurse was finally there and administered a lot of narcotics.  Not enough to kill her outright, but enough to take away the pain.  And consciousness.  I almost asked him to double the dose, or triple it, whatever was necessary to end things quickly and painlessly.  I stopped only because I realized the position that would put him in.  And that if it were an option, he’d already have offered it.

Waiting for the drugs to work, we read her her favorite stories, holding books up one at a time and asking if she wanted this one, this one, this one.  Her head would jerk in a prototype of a nod, and we’d open that book and read, taking turns, voices somehow as clear and steady as if we were doing normal bedtime stories.  I made a list as we went, because I knew I’d want to know later.

  1. Mike Mulligan and His Steam Shovel
  2. How the Sun Was Brought Back to the Sky
  3. Madeline
  4. Jump Rope Magic

Halfway through that last, the drugs finally took hold, and she slipped into unconsciousness.

Or really, semi-consciousness: some part of her was still aware of her surroundings.  Every time Kat shifted or drew away for a moment, Rebecca would whimper quietly, and only stop when she could hear and feel Kat reassuring her.  She only did so for me when I got up from the bed entirely.  I would assure her that I would be back in a minute or two, that I wasn’t going away for good.  That was enough to quiet her.  She trusted us so much.

Shortly before dawn, we started sending texts to loved ones.  This is it.  If you want to say goodbye, you need to come today.  She has hours left.  And asked them to spread the word, so others would know to come.

Just after dawn, at 7:22 in the morning, she crossed another threshold.

Happy birthday, Rebecca, we told her with quietly trembling voices.  You made it.  You really did.  You’re a great big six year old now.  We love you so much.

There was no response.

So many people came to see her one last time on her sixth birthday, drifted in and out of her room, a slowly shifting cast of characters supporting her, us, each other, themselves.  I don’t really remember how it felt then, barely remember who was there and who was not, but looking back now it’s like those movie scenes where one person is still, sharply in focus, while long-exposure blurs of people moving around them draw a contrast between what matters and what is incidental, between transience and permanence.

Sometimes, what is still is the most transient of all.

By late afternoon, there were signs the drugs weren’t enough, that she was going to start seizing despite everything.  Which in turn meant there was a risk she’d come back to a consciousness filled with nothing but incomprehensible pain.  We weren’t sure what we could do.  She’d been lying on her back all day, so nearly motionless, body flaring with fever, shallow breaths coming and going in a rhythm I kept falling into, the way you do when your child is in distress.

Kat looked across at me and said, She’s a side sleeper.

We rolled Rebecca onto her sleeping side, her right side, and her breath hitched, drew in slowly, and then flowed out deeply, contentedly.  Her breathing stayed slow and deep, the rhythm of sleep, comforting, except it gradually got slower and slower and slower.  Stretched out more and more over half an hour, eventually slow enough that when it stopped altogether, we almost didn’t notice.

We checked for pulse.  Breath.  Pulse again.  Nothing.  For a minute.  Two.

A sound came from my throat that I know now is the true sound of ultimate suffering—and as if startled by it, she drew in another breath, choking me off.

We begged her to stop fighting, told her it was okay to go, we loved her, we loved her, we loved her.

A few minutes later, pulse and breath stopped again.  And Rebecca was gone forever.

Rebecca, who we knew so well.

Rebecca, who we had barely gotten to know.

Rebecca, who we will never get to know.

Time has moved on, as we have, and yet some parts of us have not.  Some parts of us are caught there, six years ago today, able to do nothing but watch her slowly slip away, literally helpless to do anything except try to soothe her through the haze of drugs and thickening darkness with our words, our touch, our presence, our love.  Parts of us frozen in that passage, unchanging.

Like Rebecca is now, forever, and should not be.

When I was One, I had just begun. When I was Two, I was nearly new. When I was Three I was hardly me. When I was Four, I was not much more. When I was Five, I was just alive. But now I am Six, I’m as clever as clever, So I think I’ll be six now for ever and ever.

—‘Now We Are Six’, A.A. Milne


Hamonshu

Published 10 months, 3 weeks past

I ended my observance of CSS Naked Day 2020 by launching an entirely new design for meyerweb.  I’m calling it Hamonshū after the source from which I adapted most of the graphic elements.  I’ve been working on it sporadically in my free time since mid-January, finally coming to a place I thought was ready to launch in late March.

Naked Day was a convenient way to change over the structure of pages while there was no design, which probably makes it sound like that’s the only reason I even observed it.  To the contrary, I hadn’t planned to launch the new design until June 8th of this year—but once I decided on going style-naked, I realized it was the perfect opportunity to make the switch.

I might still have delayed, if not for everything happening in the world right now.  But Cameron Moll said it best as he recently launched a new design: “Deploying in the middle of a pandemic seems so unimportant at the moment. Or maybe there’s no better time for it.”  That last sentence resonated with me unexpectedly deeply, and came to mind again as I took the CSS away for Naked Day.

I’ll have quite a few things to say about the design in the future: things I learned, techniques I used, bits I really like, that sort of thing.  In this post, I want to say a bit about its genesis.

It all started when someone—I’ve since lost track of who, or even where it happened—brought my attention to Hamonshū, Vols. 1-3, available on the Internet Archive thanks to the Smithsonian Institution.  Hamonshū, a word which I understand roughly translates into English as “wave forms” or “wave design”, is a three-volume set of art studies of water.  Created by Yūzan Mori and published in 1903, I had never heard of it before, but the sketches immediately appealed to me.  You can get an preview of some of Yūzan’s art in this article from Public Domain Review, or just go to the source (linked previously, as well as in the footer of the site) and immerse yourself in it.

As I absorbed Yūzan’s ink studies of ocean waves, rivers, fountains, and more, the elements of a design began to form in my head.  I won’t say I saw it—being aphantasic, I couldn’t—but certain sketches suggested themselves as components of a layout, and stuck with me.

Tall Bamboo and Distant Mountains, after Wang Meng, Wang Hui 王翬, 1694

Early on, I had thought to combine elements from Hamonshū with other artwork, primarily ink landscape paintings from the Qing Dynasty and Edo periods: two such examples being Tall Bamboo and Distant Mountains, after Wang Meng (Wang Hui 王翬, 1694) and View of West Lake (Ike Taiga, 1700s).  I made attempts, but the elements never really combined properly.  I eventually realized I was trying to combine close-up studies of water with adaptations of much larger works, and the scale of the brush strokes was clashing.  At that point, I abandoned the paintings and concentrated exclusively on Hamonshū.

As the various design elements came together, I went looking for fonts to use.  I originally thought to use variable fonts, but I kept coming back to IM Fell, a typeface I’d seen Simon St. Laurent use and had put to my own purposes in an experimental typeset of Neal Stephenson’s Mother Earth Mother Board.  IM Fell has a sort of nautical feel to it, at least to me, which fit nicely with the water elements I was adapting from Hamonshū, so I ended up using it as a “site elements” typeface.  It’s what’s used for the site name in the header, the main navigation links, metadata for posts, sidebar heading text, the h1 on most pages, and so on.

Originally I used IM Fell for the titles of blog posts like this one, but it didn’t feel quite right.  I think it caused the titles to blend into the rest of the design a little too much unless I kept it relatively huge.  I needed something that felt consistent, but distinguished itself at the smaller sizes I needed for post titles.  I went back to Google Fonts and scrolled through the choices until I narrowed down to a few faces, of which Eczar was the eventual winner.  In addition to using Eczar for post titles, I also employ it in the site’s footer, at least wherever IM Fell isn’t used.  The general body copy of the site is Georgia Pro, falling back to Georgia or a generic serif as needed.

One of the limitations I set for myself was to be reasonably lightweight, and that was a major part of the process.  The details merit a post or two of their own, but my overall goal was to get even the post archive pages under a megabyte in total.  I’m pleased to say I was able to get there, for the most part.  As an example, the main post archive page is, as I write this (but before I posted it) 910.98KB, and that includes the various photographs and other images embedded in posts.  The time to DOMContentLoaded over WiFi is consistently below 200ms, 400-500ms on “Regular 3G”, and 500-600ms on “Regular 2G”, all with the local cache disabled, at least when the server is responding well.  I still have work to do in this area, but I was comfortable enough with the current state to launch the design publicly.

Since I was redesigning anyway, I did some sprucing up of various subpages.  Most notable are the Toolbox and Writing pages, which use a number of techniques to improve organization and appearance.  I still think the top part of the Writing page could use some work, but it’s leagues better than it used to be.  The one major page I’d like to further upgrade is CSS Work, but I’m still looking for an approach that is distinct from the other pages, yet thematically consistent.  If I can’t find one, I’ll probably take the same general approach I did for Toolbox.  I also rewrote some of the microcopy, such as the metadata (publication date, categories, etc.) at the bottom of blog posts, to be more evocative of the feel I was going for.

Late in the process, I got a welcome assist from Jesse Gardner, who had seen a preview of article design.  He had the idea to make a traced SVG version of the “Hand Made With Love” necklace charm from the masthead of the previous design, and then he just up and did it and sent me the file.  You’ll find it in the footer of the site.  It isn’t interactive, although it may in the future.  I haven’t decided yet.

I really hope you enjoy the new look.  It’s the first design I’ve done that wasn’t cribbed off someone else’s site in, oh, 15-20 years, give or take, and I’m rather proud of it.  It won’t win any awards, but it makes the statement I want it to make, and visiting my own site gives me a little glow of satisfaction.  I don’t know if I could ask for more than that.


Trying to Work From Home

Published 11 months, 2 weeks past

I’ve been working from home for (checks watch) almost 19 years now, and I’d love to share some tips with you all on how to make it work for you.

Except I can’t, because this has been incredibly disruptive for me.  See, my home is usually otherwise empty during the day—spouse at work, kids at school—which means I can crank up the beats and swear to my heart’s content at my code typos.  Now, not only do I have to wear headphones and monitor my language when I work, I also am surrounded by office-mates who basically play video games and watch cat videos all day, except for those times when I really get focused on a task, when they magically sense it’s the perfect time to come ask me random questions that could have waited, derailing my focus and putting me back at square one.

Which, to most of you used to working in an office setting, I suppose might seem vaguely familiar.  I’m not used to it at all.

Here’s what I can tell you: if you’re having trouble focusing on work, or anything else, it’s not that you’re terrible at working from home or bad at your job.  It’s that you’re doing this in a set of circumstances completely unprecedented in our lifetimes.  It’s that you’re doing this while worried not only about keeping yourself and your loved ones safe from a global pandemic, but probably also worried about your continued employment—not because you’re doing badly, but because the economy is on the verge of freezing up completely.  No spending means no business income means no salaries means no money to spend.

We can hope for society-level measures to unjam the economic engine, debt leniency or zero-interest loans or Universal Basic Income or what have you, but until those measures exist and begin to work together, we’re all stumbling scared in a pitch-black forest.  Take it from someone who has been engulfed by overwhelming, frightening, pitiless circumstances before: Work can be a respite, but it’s hard to sustain that retreat.  It’s hard to motivate yourself to even think about work, let alone do a good job.

Be forgiving of yourself.  Give yourself time and space to process the fear, to work through it and you.  Find a place for yourself in relation to it, so that you can exist beside it without it always disrupting your thoughts.  That’s the only way I know to free up any mental resources to try to do good work.  It also puts you in a place where you can act with some semblance of reason, instead of purely from fear.

Stay safe, friends.  We have a long, unknown road ahead.  Adjustment will be a long time in coming.  Support each other as much as you can.  Community is, in the end, the most resilient and replenishing force we have.


Sir Joshua Meyer

Published 1 year, 1 day past

Six years ago, we participated in our first St. Baldrick’s event.  Carolyn was preparing to shave her head to support Rebecca, who was still very much alive and, we thought, cancer-free.  And Joshua, the little brother at just over three years old, had apparently decided to do the same to his head, although he didn’t tell us until the day of the event.

Knight of the Bald Table logo

This year, Joshua will be participating in St. Baldrick’s for the seventh time in a row, shaving his head to raise money for and awareness of the campaign to cure cancers in memory of his sister at the Cleveland Heights event on Sunday, March 15th.  He’s been letting his hair grow all year for maximum payoff: literally, he has not had a single hair cut since last year’s St. Baldrick’s event.  He also recently had Carolyn dye it blue, which means he’s giving off a strong JRPG vibe.  (He rolls his eyes whenever I mention this.)

This being his seventh year, Joshua will officially become a Knight of the Bald Table.  In his honor, I will be his squire for the day—which means I will be shaving my head as well, for the first time.

If you can, please support Joshua’s knighting shave by supporting his fundraising efforts.  He’s set an ambitious goal, but I’m pretty sure that working together, we can well exceed it.  You can do it in honor of him, or in honor of his sister, or both; but please, if you can give him a boost, please do so.  Any amount will help, as will spreading the word on les médias sociaux.  Thank you.


Woodshop SVG: Studs and Shelves

Published 1 year, 1 month past

As I’ve worked on my indoor workspace, I’ve continued to find SVG useful for planning purposes, and putting it to use in my planning has pushed me to learn more about the language.  (That last sentence is actually a play on words, for reasons that I hope will become clear by the end of the post.)

For example, the basement room I’m partially turning into a workspace has a set of exposed framing studs (exposed once I removed a couple of cabinets, anyway) that I wanted to turn into a set of rough shelving, so that I could organize the various bits ‘n’ bobs I accumulate: leftover bolts, extra pullchain, and so on.  These studs are perched on foundation cinderblock, about 48 inches off the floor, and run up to the ceiling from there.

Each stud is 28 inches tall, running from a 2×6 base up to a stacked pair of 2×6 crossbeams.  They also have strips of 2×10 mounted vertically at their bottoms, running between each stud.  (I’m not entirely sure why the 2×10s are there, but I’m not about to start ripping them out now.)

The distances between subsequent studs is also not consistent: they’re mostly close to 16 inches on-center, but not perfectly so, and the last set is only 12 inches apart because the framing ends where a set of stairs begins.  So I created a schematic, including a red box to mark where a 1-gang electrical box. protrudes from the other side of the wall.

The middle stud is taller as a reminder to me that, if not for the crossbeams, it could keep going up past the ceiling joist.  The others are essentially centered on the joists above them (centered within half an inch or so, anyway).

Why does that matter?  Because to make the shelves, I decided to mount 2×6s in front of the framing studs, to allow for shelves 11 inches deep.  So in cases where the studs are centered below ceiling joists, I can run the front-mounted 2×6es up to them.  In that middle case, I’ll actually need a longer 2×6 to run up next to the joist.

This all might sound like a lot of work to deal with odd circumstances, but that was part of the point of this part of the project.  We don’t always get to work in ideal circumstances.  Learning how best to work around the existing limitations is a valuable lesson in itself.

I tried out a lot of different shelf configurations.  At first, I was just using <rect> elements like this.

<rect x="1.5" y="9"    width="14.5" height="0.5" />
<rect x="1.5" y="19.5" width="14.5" height="0.5" />

That’s two shelves, ten inches apart, in the leftmost stud bay.  (The shelves are a half-inch thick.)  That worked okay for a while, but then I decided to show the support rails that would both tie the 2×6s to the studs behind them, and also hold up the shelves.  So that meant more <rect>s, like so.

<rect x="1.5" y="9"    width="14.5" height="0.5" />
<rect x="1.5" y="19.5" width="14.5" height="0.5" />
<rect x="1.5" y="9.5"  width="0.75" height="1.125" />
<rect x="15.25" y="9.5"  width="0.75" height="1.125" />
<rect x="1.5" y="20"  width="0.75" height="1.125" />
<rect x="15.25" y="20"  width="0.75" height="1.125" />

Again, that’s just for the first stud bay: two shelves, and then four supports, two for each shelf.  And I have five bays to do.

Still, it it took deciding to show the storage bins I wanted on the shelves to push to look for a better way.  Basically, what I wanted was a way to define a primitive of a shelf and two support rails, and then just place that.  And then a way to do the same for collections of storage bins, which could be stacked atop each other.

SVG provides for exactly this, through the combination of <defs> and <use>.  I set up a basic shelf set like this:

<defs>
    <g id="shelf">
        <rect x="0" y="0" width="14.5" height="0.5" />
        <rect x="0" y="0.5"  width="0.75" height="1.125" />
        <rect x="13.75" y="0.5"  width="0.75" height="1.125" />
    </g>
</defs>

If you think of that as its own little SVG, it defines a horizontal shelf 14.5 coordinate units wide, and half a unit tall, starting at 0,0.  It then places the two support rails just below, starting half a unit down from the top.

With that in hand, the two shelves I was drawing before collapsed from six lines to two:

<use xlink:href="#shelf" x="1.5" y="9" />
<use xlink:href="#shelf" x="1.5" y="20" />

Suddenly, rather than fiddling with the X,Y coordinates of several pieces just to move a shelf, I could adjust the X,Y of one <use> element.  To say this sped up my workflow would be a monumental understament.  Trying out different shelf spacing and shelf counts went from being a chore to being almost too easy.

This was only magnified when I wrote the definitions for storage-bin primitives.  At first, I drew them the same way I had the shelves, down and right from 0,0, but that was difficult in a number of ways.  Different bin sizes meant I had to do different math to get the bins to sit on the shelves.  And then I remembered that SVG is unbounded on both axes—which meant I could draw the bins up from 0,0, meaning I could give them the same y coordinate as the shelves.

Wait, what?  Let me show you.  Inside <defs>, I wrote:

<g id="bins4">
    <rect x="0" y="-4" width=".15" height="4" />
    <rect x="4" y="-4" width=".15" height="4" />
    <rect x="0" y="-1.5" width="4.15" height="1.5" />
    <rect x="4.2" y="-4" width=".15" height="4" />
    <rect x="8.2" y="-4" width=".15" height="4" />
    <rect x="4.2" y="-1.5" width="4.15" height="1.5" />
    <rect x="8.4"  y="-4" width=".15" height="4" />
    <rect x="12.4" y="-4" width=".15" height="4" />
    <rect x="8.4"  y="-1.5" width="4.15" height="1.5" />
</g>

Everything is drawn starting from above the y=0 line, and reaches down to y=0.  So that first <rect> with height="4" starts at a Y coordinate of -4.  -4 plus 4 equals zero.

That allowed the following:

<use xlink:href="#shelf" x="1.5" y="9" />
<use xlink:href="#bins4" x="2.5" y="9" />
<use xlink:href="#shelf" x="1.5" y="20" />
<use xlink:href="#bins4" x="3.0" y="20" />

See how the y coordinate is the same for both shelf and associated bins?  If I decide to move a shelf up an inch and a half, I just take 1.5 off the y value for the shelf’s <use>, and then use that same value for the y attribute on the bins’ <use>.

Could I have made this even better by combining shelves and bins into a single primitive definition, and only having one <use>?  Yes, if there would only be one set of bins per shelf.  That’s how I dd it in this particular arrangement.  (In this case, the brown vertical studs are actually the 2×6s mounted in front of the wall studs, so they’re taller and based lower.)

However, I also considered stacking bins on each other between shelves, as in this configuration.

That wound up being pretty close to what I did, in the end.

There were a couple of things I wished I could do (or wish I had figured out how to do) in SVG.  The first was a way of varying the width on the <use> elements.  The rightmost stud bay is 12 inches wide, not the 14½ inch bays the others have.  I ended up defining a separate primitive definition for those shelves.

<g id="shelf-sm">
    <rect x="0" y="0" width="12.5" height="0.5" />
    <rect x="0" y="0.5"  width="0.75" height="1.125" />
    <rect x="11.75" y="0.5"  width="0.75" height="1.125" />
</g>

I guess I could have done X-axis scaling transforms on the regular #shelf primitive.  Actually, looking back on it, that probably makes a lot more sense than what I did.  It would have squished the support rails a tiny bit, but not enough to throw off precision cuts or anything.  (There really were no precision cuts in this project—this is carpentry at its roughest.)

The other thing I wanted was the ability to draw “backwards” by giving negative height and width values.  So as an example, I’d have liked to write the rightmost support rail like this:

<rect x="14.5" y="0.5" width="-0.75" height="1.125" />

I know, I know, a negative distance doesn’t really make sense when talking about physical units.  I still wanted to do it.  I mean, it made sense to me in my head.

Just like the idea of hand-authoring SVG to plan out workshop projects made sense to me.  I’m sure I could have done it a little faster and a little more intuitively in a vector editor, but I’d have had to buy one (my copy of Illustrator no longer runs on my Mac, more’s the pity) and if I’d gone that route, I wouldn’t have learned a lot more about SVG and its capabilities.  Either way, the end result is pleasing to me… at least for the time being.


Woodshop SVG

Published 1 year, 1 month past

For the holiday break this year, I decided to finally tackle creating an indoor work space.  I’d had my eye on a corner of our basement storage room for a while, and sketched out various rough plans on graph paper over the past couple of years.  But this time?  This time, I was doing it.

The core goal is to have a workbench where I can do small toy and appliance repair when needed, as well as things like wood assembly after using the garage power tools to produce the parts—somewhere warm in the depths of winter and cool at the height of summer, where glue and finish will always be in its supported temperature range.  But that spawns a whole lot of other things in support of that goal: places to store components like screws, clamps, drills, bits, hammers, saws, wires, and on and on.

Not to mention, many tools are powered, and the corner in question didn’t come with any outlets.  Not even vaguely nearby, unless you count the other side of the room behind a standing freezer.  Which, for the record, I don’t count.  I had to do something about that.

So anyway, a lot of stuff got cleared out of the corner and stored elsewhere, if it wasn’t just tossed outright.  Then I took a couple of cabinets off the wall and remounted one of them elsewhere in the room, which was quite the experience, let me tell you.  When I discovered I’d mis-measured the available space and the cabinet ever so slightly, I had the following conversation with myself:

“This cabinet is an eighth-inch too tall to fit. You’ll never get it in there!”

“Yeah?  Well, me and Mister Block Plane here say different.”

Reader, I got it in there.

Moving the cabinets exposed a short wall of framing studs mounted atop a cinderblock foundation wall.  I’ll get to how I used those in a future piece, but here I want to talk about something I’ve been using to help me visualize parts of this project and get cut lists out of it at the end: hand-written SVG.

You heard me.  I’ve been hand-coding SVG schematics to figure out how thing should go together, and as a by-product, guide me in both material buying and wood cutting.

This might sound hugely bespoke and artisanally overdone, but they’re not that complicated, and as a major benefit, the process has helped me understand SVG a little bit better.  Here’s one example, a top-down diagram of the (supposedly) temporary workbench I recently built out of plywood and kiln-dried framing studs.

That shows a 2’×4′ benchtop with a supporting frame (the overlapping grayish boxes) and the placement of the four legs (the brown rectangles).  Here’s how I wrote the elements to represent the supporting frame.

<g class="structure">
    <path d="M 3.75 3.75  l 40.5 0" /> <!-- back -->
    <path d="M 3.75 12.00 l 40.5 0" class="optional" />
    <path d="M 3.75 20.25 l 40.5 0" /> <!-- front -->

    <path d="M 3.75 3  l 0 18" /> <!-- left -->
    <path d="M 24.00 3.75 l 0 16.5" class="optional" />
    <path d="M 44.25 3 l 0 18" /> <!-- right -->
</g>

And here’s how I styled them.

.structure {
    stroke: #000;
    stroke-width: 0;
    fill: #000;
}
.structure path {
    opacity: 0.1;
    stroke-width: 1.5;
}
.structure .optional {
    opacity: 0.05;
}

I like using paths in this situation because they let me pick a starting coordinate, then draw a line with relative X-Y values.  So that first path starts at X=3.75 and Y=3.75, and then draws a line whose endpoint is 40.5 X-units and 0 Y-units from the starting point.  In other words, it’s 40.5 units long and purely horizontal.  Compare that to the path marked left, which starts nearby (X=3.75, Y=3) and runs 18 units straight down.

This helps with cut planning because I set things up such that each unit equals an inch.  Just by looking at the values in the SVG, I know I need two pieces that are 40.5 inches long, and two that are 18 inches long.  (Three pieces of each length, if I’d decided to use the pieces classed as optional, but I didn’t.)

And how did I get that to work?  I set the viewbox to be only a few coordinate units larger than the overall piece, which I knew would be 24 by 48 units (inches), and then made the image itself large.

<svg xmlns:svg="http://www.w3.org/2000/svg"
    xmlns="http://www.w3.org/2000/svg"
    xmlns:xlink="http://www.w3.org/1999/xlink"
    width="1000"
    height="500"
    viewBox="0 0 54 30"
    >

Basically, I added 6 to each of 24 and 48 to get my viewBox values, allowing me three units of “padding” (not CSS padding) on each side.  I filled the whole thing with a rectangle with a soft gray fill, like so.

<rect height="100%" width="100%" fill="#EEE" />

Which was great, but now I had to figure out how to get the 24×48 workplan into the center of the viewbox without having to add three to every coordinate.  I managed that with a simple translation.

<g transform="translate(3,3)">
    <rect width="48" height="24" fill="hsla(42deg,50%,50%,0.5)" />
    …
</g>

And with that, everything inside that g (which is basically the entire diagram) can use coordinates relative to 0,0 without ending up jammed into the top left corner of the image.  For example, that rect, which has no x or y attributes and so defaults both to 0.  It thus runs from 0,0 to 48,24 (as is proper, X comes before Y), but is actually drawn from 3,3 to 51,27 thanks to the transform of the g container.

The drawback to this approach, in my eyes, is that if text is added, it needs a really small font size.  In this particular case, I decided to add a measurement grid to the diagram which is revealed when the SVG is printed.  You can also see it on a mouse-and-keyboard computer if you click through to the SVG and then hover the tabletop.  To all the paths I used to make the grid (and yes, there’s a better way), I added a set of labels like these:

<text x="12" y="0" dx="0.5" dy="-0.5">12</text>
<text x="24" y="0" dx="0.5" dy="-0.5">24</text>
<text x="36" y="0" dx="0.5" dy="-0.5">36</text>
<text x="48" y="0" dx="0.5" dy="-0.5">48</text>

<text x="0" y="0" dx="-0.33" dy="-0.33">0</text>
<text x="0" y="12" dx="-0.5" dy="0.5">12</text>
<text x="0" y="24" dx="-0.5" dy="0.5">24</text>

At my browser’s default of 16px, the text is HUGE, because it gets made 16 units tall.  That’s almost three-quarters the height of the viewbox!  So I ended up styling it to be teensy by any normal measure, just so it would come out contextually appropriate.

.lines text {
    font-size: 1px;
    font-family: Arvo, sans-serif;
    text-anchor: end;
}

Yes.  1px.  I know.  And yet, they’re the right size for their context.  It still grates on me, but it was the answer that worked for this particular context.  You can see the result if you load up the SVG on its own and mouse-hover the benchtop.

The legs I decided to do as rect elements, for no reason I can adequately explain other than I’d started to get a little sick of the way path forced me to figure out where the center of each line had to be in order to make the edges land where I wanted.  path is great if you want a line exactly centered on a unit, like 12.00, but if you want the edge of a board to be three inches from the left edge of the tabletop, it has to start at x="3.75" if the board is 1.5 inches wide.  If the width ever changes, you have to change the x value as well.

For the support frame, which is going to be made entirely out of boards an inch and a half wide, this wasn’t a super big deal, but the math had started to grate a bit.  So, the legs are rects, because I could use the grid I’d drawn to figure out their top left corners, and the height and width were constants.  (I probably could have set those via the CSS, but eh, sometimes it’s better to have your code self-document.)

<g class="legs">
    <rect x="4.5" y="4.5" height="1.5" width="3.5" />
    <rect x="4.5" y="18" height="1.5" width="3.5" />
    <rect x="40" y="4.5" height="1.5" width="3.5" />
    <rect x="40" y="18" height="1.5" width="3.5" />
</g>

Honestly, I probably didn’t even need to include these, but they served as a useful reminder not to forget them when I went to buy the wood.

As I said, simply by glancing at the SVG source, I can see how long the support frame’s pieces need to be—but more to the point, as I adjusted numbers to move them around, I worked their sizes into my head.  What I mean is, I had to visualize them to draw the right lines, and that means I’ve already done some visualization of the assembly.  I just need to remember that each of the four legs will be 34″ long at the most.  Taken all together, I’ll need three 8-foot 2×4 boards (which actually have a cross-section of 1.5″×3.5″—don’t ask), chopped up and joined appropriately, to go under my 2’×4′ benchtop.

So that’s how I utterly geeked up my workbench project—and if that seems like a bit much, just wait until you see the next thing I did, and what I learned along the way.


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