In another timeline, an early alarm woke Kat and me this morning so we could sneak into Rebecca’s room with her siblings and wish her a happy birthday at the moment she turned ten, 7:24am, June 7th, 2018.
Two digits. It’s a big milestone, in its way. Rebecca’s best friend Ruth passed it a few days ago. Ruth, who she called “Ruthie”. Who shared all three of her initials, and practically had the same birthday. Who was the last person to whom Rebecca ever spoke a complete sentence in her full voice, the morning of the day before she died: “Goodbye Ruthie, I love you, MWAH!”
Ruth, who still dreams of Rebecca, happy dreams that make her waking sad.
I have dreams like that too, when I remember them. I don’t often remember my dreams. But sometimes, I get to spend a little time with her, free of sorrow, on a nighttime walk or at an amusement park my subconscious constructed out of all the parks we ever took her to.
Kat and Carolyn and Joshua and I went to the grave marker this morning, because Kat works all afternoon into the evening and Joshua has an all-day LEGO and chess camp and Carolyn has friends to see before summer vacation gets crazy. Because life moves on even when a part of you can’t understand why the sky doesn’t collapse and the world doesn’t crack open and time doesn’t shatter into a million sharded memories. Classes get taken, grades get graduated, camps get attended, trips get planned, work has to be done. Each day follows on the one before, pulling you further and further away from the last moments your life was normal.
We stood or sat or huddled around the flecked slate blue granite slab under the gray clouds of morning, emotions flaring and fading, subsumed by a profound sorrow without many tears. We’re too used to it, now. The sobs of previous years have given way to a steeled mourning. Sometimes there is resentment at the stupid blind unfairness of the holes shot through all our hearts, the hole in our lives, and all the things she and we never got to experience.
Her playgroup friends still talk of her with their parents. Rebecca was a good friend, she was funny, she was fun, she was so nice. In their way, still trying to come to grips with what happened to her. To them.
They don’t mention her to us. Children, trying to protect the grown-ups.
Which makes sense, since they know, now, that sometimes grown-ups can’t protect the children. Sometimes the killer gets into the house and there is nothing you can do to cast it out.
Sometimes there is nothing anyone can do, except hold the victim’s hand as her life ebbs away, and wish your desperate pleas to take her place had been heard. That there was something to hear, anything to hear, and accept a frantic parent’s bargain of life for life.
Ten years ago today, Rebecca came into this world. Four years ago today, she left it.
I can’t remember if I ever told her I would never forget her, or if I was too afraid of frightening her.
I clearly remember when and where she told me, sobbing, knowing she would die, that she would never forget me.
I can still recall the terrified strength in her arms, locked around my neck.
In March of 2014, our son Joshua, then a newly-minted three-year-old, shaved his head for St. Baldrick’s for the first time, in support of his sister Rebecca, who at the time seemed to be in remission. This coming Sunday, now in support of all St. Baldrick’s beneficiaries and in memory of the sister with whom he shared so much love, he’ll shave his head for the fifth time. He’s been letting his hair grow out since the start of the year just for this occasion, and he’s already looking forward to 2020, when he will officially become a Knight of the Bald Table—at the age of nine.
As he was last year, Joshua is a member of Team Fairfax, representing the elementary school all three of our kids have attended. This year he was designated a Team Captain despite only being a first-grader.
Joshua surpassed his initial goal and set a new, much more ambitious threshold of $1,200. As I write this, he’s just over $150 away. If you can help him get over and beyond that line, he—and I—would very much appreciate it.
Just over an hour before I started writing this post, I handed off CSS Pocket Reference, 5th Edition to the Production department at O’Reilly. What that means, practically speaking, is that barring any changes that the editors find need to be made, I’m done.
Besides all the new-new-NEW properties included in this edition (flexbox and grid being just two of the most obvious examples), we put a lot into improving the formatting for this edition. Previous editions used a more sprawling format that led to the 4th edition getting up to 238 pages, which cast serious shade on the word “Pocket” there in the title. After all, not all of us live in climates or cultures where 24/7 cargo pants are a viable option.
So with a few ideas from me and several more from the production team, we managed to add in all the new properties and still bring the page count down below 200. My guess is the final copy will come in about 190 pages, but much will depend on how crazy the indexer gets, and how much the formatting gets changed in the final massaging.
We don’t have a firm release date yet; I’m pulling for April, but it’s really not up to me. I’ll make announcements via all the usual channels when pre-order is available, and of course when publication day arrives.
For now, for the first time in many years, I don’t have a book project on my to-do list. I don’t even have a book proposal on my to-do list. It’s a slightly weird feeling, but not an unwelcome one. I’ll be putting the extra time into my content for An Event Apart: I’m giving a talk this year on using the new CSS tools to make our jobs easier, and doing Day Aparts in Boston and San Francisco where I spend six hours diving deep into guts of stuff like flexbox Grid, writing modes, features queries, and a whole lot more.
So my time will continue to be fully spoken for, is what I’m saying. It’ll all be fun stuff, though, and it’s hard to ask for more out of my work.
My wife Kat and I tell ourselves we’d love another child for who they are, not for who they replace. We even believe it. But we can’t be sure of it—and that keeps us from shutting our eyes, jumping back into the adoption process, and hoping it will turn out okay. We know all too horribly well that sometimes, it doesn’t.
That’s the opening of my essay “The Second Third Child”, included in the new book from Modern Loss titled Modern Loss: Candid Conversation About Grief. Beginners Welcome, published this week.
I’m deeply honored to be one of the 40+ contributors to the book, some of whom you may know—Dresden Dolls co-founder Amanda Palmer, CNN’s Brian Stelter, author Lucy Kalanithi, Dear Evan Hansen director Michael Greif, Stacy London of What Not To Wear—and many of whom you may not, as I will be unknown to the vast majority of the book’s readers. I’ve written articles for Modern Loss in the past, but to be entrusted with a part of their first book was humbling.
Several of the essays in the book are intentionally funny, but mine is not one of them. It’s quiet, reflective, and elegiac in more than one way, but never anything but honest. It appears in the first section of the book, titled “Collateral Damage”.
As Stephen Colbert put it: “Talking about loss can feel scary. This book isn’t. It’s about grieving deeply over the long term, and the reassurance that you’re far from broken because of it.” I hope my essay, and the book as a whole, helps readers to come to terms with their own grief, by seeing that they are not alone, and that they did the best they could even if it doesn’t feel that way at all.
Well, here it is—the first new design for meyerweb since February 2005 (yes, almost 13 years). It isn’t 100% complete, since I still want to tweak the navigation and pieces of the footer, but it’s well past the minimum-viable threshold.
My core goal was to make the site, particularly blog posts, more readable and inviting. I think I achieved that, and I hope you agree. The design should be more responsive-friendly than before, and I think all my flex and grid uses are progressively enhanced. I do still need to better optimize my use of images, something I hope to start working on this week.
Things I particularly like about the design, in no particular order:
The viewport-height-scaled masthead, using a minimum height of 20vh. Makes it beautifully responsive, always allowing at least 80% of the viewport’s height to be given over to content, without requiring media queries.
The “CSS” and “HTML” side labels I added to properly classed pre elements. (For an example, see this recent post.)
The fading horizontal separators I created with sized linear gradients, to stand in for horizontal rules. See, for example, between post content and metadata, or underneath the navlinks up top of the page. I first did this over at An Event Apart last year, and liked them a lot. I may start decorating them further, which multiple backgrounds make easy, but for now I’m sticking with the simple separators.
Using string-based grid-template-areas values to rearrange the footer at mobile sizes, and also to make the rare sidebar-bearing pages (such as those relating to S5) more robust.
There are (many) other touches throughout, but those are some high points.
As promised, I did livestream most of the process, and archived copies of those streams are available as a YouTube playlist for those who might be interested. I absolutely acknowledge that for most people, nine hours of screencasting overlaid with rambling monologue would be very much like watching paint dry in a hothouse, but as Abraham Lincoln once said: for those who like this sort of thing, this is the sort of thing they like.
I was surprised to discover how darned easy it is to livestream. I know we live in an age of digital wonders, but I had somehow gotten it into my head that streaming required dedicated hardware and gigabit upstream connections. Nope: my five megabit upstream was sufficient to stream my desktop in HD (or close to it) and all I needed to broadcast was encoding software (I used OBS) and a private key from YouTube, which was trivial to obtain. The only hardware I needed was the laptop itself. Having a Røde Podcaster for a microphone was certainly helpful, but I could’ve managed without it.
(I did have a bit of weirdness where OBS stopped recognizing my laptop’s camera after my initial tests, but before I went live, so I wasn’t able to put up a window showing me while I typed. Not exactly a big loss there. Otherwise, everything seemed to go just fine.)
My thanks to everyone who hung out in the chat room as I livestreamed. I loved all the questions and suggestions—some of which made their way into the final design. And extra thanks to Jen Simmons, who lit the fire that got me moving on this. I enjoyed the whole process, and it felt like a great way to close the books on 2017.
After I announced my newwwyear plans, a couple of people pinged me to ask if I’d do a Google Hangout or some such so that people could follow along as I live-redesign meyerweb in production. And I thought, that sounds like the nerdiest Twitch stream ever, but what the heck, why not?
So! I’m going to livestream at least part of my process over on YouTube Live, spread over a few days. I picked YTL over Twitch because YouTube will archive the streams to my channel, whereas Twitch only holds onto them for 14 days, and one of my weaknesses is that I’m a data hoarder—I hate to throw away anything digital. So I’ll keep copies on someone else’s computer.
During the stream, I’ll keep up a running commentary on what I’m doing and why. This sounds artificial, but honestly, I talk to myself a lot as I work anyway. I’ll also have the YouTube Live chat window open so people can ask questions about why I do what I do, and I’ll do my best to answer. Or, you know, we can talk about the latest Star Wars movie or whatever. I’m not going to put too many limits on it other than A) keep the language professional, since kids starting out in web design might join in; and B) treat everyone in the chat with respect.
My guess is any given stream session will be two hours, tops. My tentative schedule is:
December 26th (today!) starting around 2000 UTC (3:00pm EST, 12:00n PST)
December 27th, 1830 UTC (1:30pm EST, 10:30am PST)
December 28th, 1900 UTC (2:00pm EST, 11:00am PST)
December 29th, 1500 UTC (10:00am EST, 7:00am PST)
I don’t have a specific structure for how I’m going to approach this, other than: first I turn off all site-wide styling and put up a note about it, maybe add a few very minimal styles, rework the page structures to be sane without CSS, then start building up a new design. I have no idea how long each part of that sequence will take (except the “remove site-wide styles” part, that’ll take a few seconds). But there isn’t a scheduled “Typography Day” or what-have-you: I’ll probably go wandering off on tangents, riffing on happy accidents, fiddling with stuff as I notice it and it bugs me, etc., etc. In other words, how I normally work.
If any of this sounds interesting to you, please join in! I’ll do my best to announce start times with an hour or so lead over on Twitter, and as comments on this post.
Ok, here’s the deal. Tweet your personal website plan with the hashtag #newwwyear (thanks @jamiemchale!): 1) When will you start? 2) What will you try to accomplish? 3) When is your deadline? Improve an existing site. Start a new one. Burn one down & start over. It’s up to you.
Many of us feel bad about our personal websites. Me included. We keep meaning to make one, improve what’s there, or burn it down and start over. We are busy. Afraid. Overwhelmed. Well, let’s do it. Maybe over the holidays. Maybe after, in the New Year. #newwwyear
On Friday, I announced my plan:
I’ll start Wednesday, December 27th.
I’ll redesign http://meyerweb.com for the first time in a dozen years, and I’ll do it live on the production site.
My deadline is Wednesday, January 3rd, so I’ll have a week.
I won’t be redesigning all day every day—I still have paying work to do, after all—but I’ll do my best to put in a couple of hours each weekday.
When say I’ll do it live, I mean I’ll be making all my changes here on the production site, with minimal or no testing beforehand—literally opening the style sheet(s) into BBEdit via Transmit, and saving changes up to the server to see what happens. Stuff will break, and then I’ll fix it, live in the public eye. It’s possible I’ll try out new ideas and then junk them before moving on to others. I’m hoping that accidents spark inspiration, as they often do.
(There will be a local copy of the site in case things go so badly that I need to reset to the starting point. I’m not completely insane, after all.)
I have a vague plan with all this, which is: realign the site’s appearance to be more inviting, more readable, and more visually engaging. I do have a few past experiments that I’ll fold in, like using relative times (e.g., “Two months ago”) on posts, but a lot of this will be me doing free-association design. And hopefully a little markup cleanup and enhancement as well.
I’m sticking with WordPress to drive the blog, given that it contains close to two decades of posts and makes it easy to allow comments, a feature I still value; and my hand-built old-school-standards-punk mostly-static templating system for the rest of the site, which let the site be static(ish) way before static was cool. (No, I will not consider migrating to other CMSes or template systems: with a week set aside for this, I won’t have the time.)
So, that’s the plan: a week for a meyerweb makeover. I don’t know if I’ll keep up a running commentary on Twitter while I do, or if I’ll take breaks and blog short entries chronicling my progress, or what. If someone sets up a #newwwyear Slack team, I’ll probably join in. If the #newwwyear idea excites you, I hope you’ll join in too!
A thing people ask me with some regularity is, “What’s a good book for someone who wants to get started in web design?” I’m here to review a book that’s one of the best I’ve seen, Create with Code: Build Your Own Website, written by Clyde Hatter of CoderDojo’s Dojo Bray in Ireland. I got my copy at my son’s elementary school Scholastic Book Fair earlier this year; it’s available from online booksellers and probably through local bookstores as well.
I’ll go into some details of what’s in it and what I think, and there will be some complaints. So I want to stress up front: this is an excellent book for people who want to learn web design, with the modifier if you’re available to help them out when they hit stumbling blocks. You aren’t going to have to hold their hands through the whole thing by any stretch, but there are moments where, for example, the filenames used in the text will mislead. (More on that anon.) For all that, it’s still an excellent book, and I recommend it.
The book is 94 pages, of which 88 pages are instructional, and none of it is filler—Mr. Hatter packs a surprising amount of good web design practice into those 88 pages. The pages themselves are filled with colorful design, and the text is easily readable. It’s aimed squarely at elementary-school readers, and it shows. That’s a good thing, I hasten to add. The tone is simple, uncomplicated, and stripped to the essentials. At no point does it condescend. It works well for any age, not just the suggested range of 7-17. I enjoyed reading it, even though I knew literally everything the book covers.
The organizing idea of the book is creating a small web site for a ninja band (!!!) called The Nanonauts. In the course of the book, the reader sets up a home page, an About Us page, a page listing upcoming concerts, and a couple more. Everything makes sense and interrelates, even if a couple of things feel ever so slightly forced.
Here’s a page-number timeline of concepts’ first introductions:
Brainstorming site content and sketching a site map. Bear in mind here that the actual instructional text starts on page 6.
Adding a style sheet to an HTML document via a link element.
A nice breakdown of how images are loaded into the page, what the various (common) image attributes are and mean, and the importance of good alt text. On page 14.
The concept of an empty element and how it differs from other elements.
An extended discussion of proper structure and good content for the web. It shows how using headings and paragraphs breaks up large text walls, makes the distinction between ordered and unordered lists, and demonstrates the importance of proper element nesting.
Diving into CSS. A style sheet was added to the document back on page 10, but this is where CSS starts to be discussed in detail.
Radial gradients! They went there! The syntax isn’t dissected and explained, but just showing working gradients clues readers in to their existence. There’s also an example of styling html separately from body, without making a super big deal out of it. This is a pattern throughout the rest of the book: many things are used without massively explaining them. The author relies on the reader to repeat the example and see what happens.
A really great explanation of hexadecimal color values. I’ve never seen better, to be honest. That’s followed by a similarly great breakdown of the uses for, and differences between, px, em, and % values for sizing.
The first of several really lovely step-by-step explanations of style blocks. In this case, it’s styling a nav element with an unordered list of links, explaining the effects of each rule as it’s added.
An example of properly structuring and styling tabular data (in this case, a list of upcoming concerts).
The box model and inline elements explained in sparing but useful detail. This includes a brief look at inline elements and the baseline, and vertical alignment thereof.
Responsive web design! A nice introduction to media queries, and a quick primer on what responsive means and why it’s important.
Floating images to wrap text around them. That segues into layout, using floats for the boxes enclosing the bits of content.
Using web fonts (basically Google fonts).
Putting your site online.
That isn’t everything that’s touched on in the book by a long shot—max-width and min-width show up early, as do :last-child, border-radius, and several more CSS features. As I said above, these are generally introduced without much detailed explanation. It’s a bold approach, but one that I think pays off handsomely. Trusting the reader to become interested enough to track down the details on their own leaves room to include more things to spark interest.
That said, there are some aspects that may—probably will—cause confusion. The biggest of these has to do with images. There are several instances of using img to add images to pages, as you’d expect. The author does provide a downloadable archive of assets, which is a little difficult to actually find (here’s a direct link), but the real problem is that once you extract the files, the filenames don’t match the filenames in print. For example, in the book there’s a reference to nanonauts.jpg. The corresponding file in the archive is NINJA_FACE_FORWARD.png. At another point, DSC03730.png turns out to actually be NINJA_GUITAR.png. There’s no indication of this whatsoever in the book.
I get it: mistakes happen, and sometimes digital assets get out of step with print. Nevertheless, I fear this could prove a major stumbling block for some readers. They see one filename in the book, and that filename doesn’t exist in the assets. Maybe they open up the asset images until they find the right one, and then maybe they figure out to replace the filename in the book with the one they found, and move on from there… but maybe they don’t. I’d be a lot happier if there were an errata note and mapping table on the download page, or the online archive’s assets were corrected.
Something similar happens on page 19, where the reader is directed to create a navigation link to songs.html when the page they’ve already created is called our-songs.html. This one is a lot more forgivable, since the filenames are at least close to each other. But again, it’s a place the reader might get lost and frustrated. The painful irony is that this error appears in a “NINJA TIP” box that starts out, “Be careful when you’re typing links. You have to get them exactly right!”
Another error of this kind happens in the section on adding a video to a page (p.45). All the markup is there, and the URL they supply in great big text loads a video just fine. The problem is that the video it loads is an ad for Scholastic, not the ninja-playing-a-guitar video the text very heavily implies it will be. I don’t know if it used to be a rock ninja shredding power chords and Scholastic replaced it or what, but it almost feels like a bait and switch. It was a little disheartening.
There’s one aspect I can’t quite make up my mind about, which is that just about everything in the book—text, design elements, media query breakpoints—is done using pixels. A couple of percentage widths show up near the very end, but not much is said about them. There is a very nice comparison of pixels, ems, and percentages on page 32, but with ems never being used (despite a claim to the contrary), readers are unlikely to use or understand them.
Now, I don’t style this way, and my every instinct rebels against it. But given that pixels really don’t mean what they used to, and that all modern browsers will scale pages up and down pretty seamlessly, is this a major problem? I’m not sure that it is. Either way, this does set readers on a specific initial path, and if that path bothers you, it’s worth knowing about so you can give them extra advice.
The third thing I found weird was the two pages devoted to embedding a live Google Map into one of the pages (showing the location of the Nanonauts’ next show). On the one hand, it’s cool in that it shows how some HTML elements (i.e., iframe) can serve as containers for external assets more complicated than images and videos, and having a live map show up in the page you’re building is probably pretty mind-blowing for someone just starting out. On the other, it’s kind of a fiddly and unusual use case: not many novice sites need an embedded widget calling an API.
The last thing I found a bit lacking was the closing two pages, which cover putting the site online. The author does their best with the two pages, and what’s there is correct, but it’s just not enough to help everyone get the results of their work online. I’m not sure two pages ever could be enough to help the novice audience. I’d have liked to see this get four pages, so there was room for more detail and more options. If you’re giving this book to someone to help them learn, my advice is to tell them up front that you’ll help them get their work online once they’ve finished the book.
Okay, all that said? I still absolutely recommend this as a beginners’ book. Nearly every topic the text introduces, and there are many I didn’t mention here, is covered just the right amount and in just the right way to get readers where they need to be, excited about what they’ve accomplished, and ready to learn more on their own. It’s pretty well up to date, at least as I write this, and isn’t likely to fall badly out of date any time soon. Approachable, accessible, and instructive.
Final grade: I give it a solid B+, only falling short of A level due to the filename mismatches.