We’ve been here about a week and half now and here are my impressions so far.

Best thing about living here

Winner: Weather and physical beauty

We decided to come here during the “worst” time of the year for weather. This is the hot season here. It has been in the mid-80s during the day and mid-60s at night. Ajijic is at high elevation so even though we’re well into the tropics, it doesn’t get as hot as it otherwise would. It has been sunny, and during the afternoons the sun can be intense, but most people just stay inside during that time of day. “Siesta” closes down shops and services for a couple of hours.

The most beautiful place I have ever lived was Hawaii. The combination of rain forest and beaches and dramatic volcanic cliffs is hard to beat. But this place is very picturesque. Lake Chapala is surrounded by mountains; there are lots of bright, colorful flowers; and many many birds!

Runner up: Cost of living

It turns out that Ajijic is more expensive than a lot of Mexico. It’s a little touristy town with art galleries and fancy restaurants. It’s like that coast town you go visit where things are just a little more pricey because it’s pretty and a lot of people go there to get away. Ajijic is a popular place for Mexicans from Guadalajara to come on the weekends.

Even so, it’s a bargain compared to what we’re paying to live in Seattle. Plus, there are ways to avoid the more pricey places. For cost of living, I think it’s a win.

Worst thing about living here

Winner: Language barrier

I only know a few words of Spanish so I am finding it difficult to impossible to really communicate with the local folks who don’t speak English.  I am learning the language, but have just gotten down the basics of ordering food at a restaurant and asking how much something costs at a store. I’m also finding that I have social anxiety and fear around not speaking and understanding. Some of this is embarrassment at being a stupid gringo, and some of it is fear of making a fool of myself by saying stupid things in Spanish. I’m working at overcoming this fear because it really is counterproductive to actually communicating.

In the time we’ve been here, I have gone from essentially zero Spanish to being able to (barely) get by in a store and a restaurant. The social fear is still there, but I can make myself understood for the most part. I know that as I learn more Spanish (which I am doing as fast as I can), I will get more and more comfortable with interacting with people in Spanish, but I still worry that I might never be able to break through the language barrier completely.

Runner up: Missing home

It may seem strange, but even after such a short time, I already miss friends and family in Seattle. I know that this particular issue will be a problem for me regardless of where we go, and some of that is related to feeling disconnected from my younger daughter Claire, who (at 13 years old) isn’t the best at keeping in touch long-distance. So this is an issue I will have to deal with in some fashion regardless of where we move… which doesn’t make it any easier of course.

Most difficult adjustment to make

Winner: Writing space

Because we are here for a whole month, this is a working trip for me. But so far, I’ve had a difficult time getting work done. For one thing, I’m distracted by all the interesting and new things there are to do. We’ve spent mornings (when it’s cool) exploring the town by foot, buying food at the various stores and meeting people. The afternoons are warmer and lazier and less conducive to working. And, in the evening, we usually watch a show or play a game.

Other impediments to getting shit done: my laptop is small and slow; the desk chair is uncomfortable. Yadda, yadda.  So many excuses, none of them really valid.

I finally decided to try disconnecting from the internet, and was able to knuckle under and write this post. This house has good, fast internet — important for various reasons. Internet sites like Facebook and Twitter, email, and voicemail are a distraction under normal circumstances, but here it’s worse. Far away from home, I am monitoring my online connections with more frequency. I want to feel connected!

If we were to move here, I could set up an office space that would work for me. None of this would be an issue, except for the distracting internet. That will be always be a distraction.

Runner up: Cost of shredded wheat

Yes, you read that right. I have recently grown extremely fond of shredded wheat with bran. Very high fiber, very tasty the way I prepare it. Here, it is prohibitively expensive. A box of Post spoon-size shredded wheat runs between $8.25 and $9.00! I love my shredded wheat, but not that much. There’s a chance that I can find something similar at one of the local tianguis – weekly street markets. I did see a vendor with what looked like bags of spoon-size shredded wheat, and the cost was a good deal cheaper. Tomorrow, I will buy some and try it.

Biggest anticipated problem that hasn’t materialized

Winner: Language barrier

As I said above, my lack of Spanish causes me anxiety and is problematic, but it’s still very possible to communicate here. Because there are a lot of expatriate Americans and Canadians living here, many local businesses have English-speaking staff. There’s an infrastructure set up to make the transition to living in Mexico easier. So in many ways, even though the language barrier is the biggest issue for me, it’s still not nearly as big as it could be.

Many of the expats are also friendly and helpful folks. They’re more than willing, in most cases, to share their knowledge and extend welcoming resources to new people. I knew this might be true, but wasn’t prepared for how much of a help and a reassurance it is. I feel that coming to this location, as opposed to someplace else in Mexico, will mean a smoother transition to eventual integration with the local culture.

Runner up: Communicating with home

I had expected to have difficulty staying in contact with my daughter and our house sitter and other folks from back home. I knew we would have email, although I’d been prepared for issues setting that up. I’d expected that Skype would work too, but wasn’t sure if I’d run into trouble getting that to work. However, none of that was a problem; connecting to the wireless router in the house was dead easy, and the internet was up and running on our laptops within minutes.

I was also able to have my Google Voice phone number forwarded to my Gmail chat client, which essentially means that I can receive telephone calls to my phone number on my computer’s microphone and speakers. I can make outgoing calls too at no charge to US phone numbers, and send text messages as well. Everything works!

I will note, too, that for the month that we’re here, I subscribed to a VPN service that can spoof our IP so that it looks like we’re accessing the internet from within the US. This is not necessary for the phone or Skype or email access, but required for watching Netflix or Hulu or HBO shows, which we’d planned to do. The cost for this service is $6 per month, and it works perfectly.

Biggest gringo mistake

Winner: Mistaking beeswax skin cream for honey

The local tianguis are full of merchants giving away samples of their wares. These are often food items like cheese or fruit slices, and so when a honey vendor spoke some words to me in Spanish and held out an small bowl containing some pasty-looking substance, I dipped a finger in and … tasted it.

Wasn’t very good. The man told me, “No, no. For your skin.” I grimaced and rubbed some on my face, but it didn’t make the red any lighter.

Several runners up:

At the local weekly tianguis, I thought that a huge pile of very white meat mixed with onions and peppers might have been ceviche (the “meat” was as white as fish). After asking what it was, a local who spoke English told us that it was chunks of pigs’ feet and skin.

Not asking for the check at a restaurant. Apparently it’s rude for the waiter to bring the check, or even ask you if you want the check, before you request it.

We’ve got another 20 days here, and I expect that we’ll learn a ton more before we’re done! We have our first visitor coming today. We’re going to make the trip into the big city by local bus! Lots of stuff happening.

Until then: Hasta Luego.

Asleep at the Meal

For most of my life, I ate anything I wanted. I paid only a little attention to what I thought was healthy, but I was playing a lot of sports and no matter how much I ate, I never gained weight. For years I hovered effortlessly between 175 and 180 pounds.

Then at age 34 I suffered a serious injury: I tore my ACL and needed reconstructive surgery. My exercise regimen went from eight to ten hours per week of basketball and/or soccer to … nothing.

Even after surgery and physical therapy, I had enough swelling and pain from my knee that I didn’t exercise regularly for years. Every once in a while, I’d try to get re-involved in sports, but I kept reinjuring myself. After my first ultimate frisbee match, my knee swelled up like a cantaloupe … which made it also my last ultimate frisbee match.

I started to entertain the depressing possibility that I might never play sports again.

Meanwhile, I slowly gained both weight and girth. I have a sweet tooth and love to eat cookies and cakes and donuts. I have a huge weakness for cheesecake and crème brulée. By the time I turned 46, I was squeezing 215 pounds into size 38 jeans.

Carrying extra weight made many normal things harder. Extended sitting in office chairs caused me more back pain; it was additional effort to climb stairs or go hiking with the kids. Even standing became uncomfortable after a short period of time. I was more depressed, grumpier, and had a lot less energy. Plus I was self-conscious about my increasingly pear-shaped silhouette.

I had already tried dieting once. Atkins worked at first: I lost 20 pounds in three weeks or so, but it all returned when I shifted into the “maintenance” part of the diet. And as the pounds came back so did the depression. I gave up dieting and resigned myself to being overweight.

First Alarm: Hitting Snooze

Then in 2010, during a routine annual physical, my doctor informed me that my blood sugar levels indicated that I was “pre-diabetic”: I had not yet developed full-blown adult onset diabetes, but I was well above the normal healthy range. He told me I needed to lose some weight, exercise, and avoid foods with a high glycemic index.

Type II Diabetes is a serious condition, one that needs constant attention. I learned that complications can include heart disease, nerve damage, eye degeneration, kidney damage, osteoporosis, and more. I began to get a little … concerned.

I’ve always found solo exercise excruciatingly boring. Still, I knew I needed to do something, so I bought a used stationary bicycle off Craigslist. That way, I could bike indoors even when it’s raining, which in Seattle is most of the year, and at least I could watch movies or television to relieve the tedium somewhat.

I worked my way up to a regimen of about 40 minutes of biking four to five days a week. Even with the video to distract me, this was far less fun than playing team sports, but if I could lose weight I thought it would be worth it.

In addition, I tried to eat healthier. Karawynn makes this easy — not only is she a great cook, but the meals she makes are generally heavy on vegetables and whole grains. But I remained stuck at 215 pounds, and my blood sugar, while not worsening, remained in a dangerous range.

Why wasn’t I losing weight? I had no idea.

Second Alarm: Getting Up

Then, in February 2011, my Mom died. And even though her deterioration was reasonably long, her death brought me face to face with mortality. It’s one thing to abstract death into a theoretical and distant future and it’s another to be right next to it. To really understand that people die, that I WILL DIE.

But I’d rather live a while longer — as long as possible, really. So I was forced to ask myself: why am I not dealing with my health issues? Losing weight and getting my blood sugar scores down became much more urgent.

Mom’s death had another, much less emotional, but equally important consequence to this particular course: I inherited her iPhone.

Karawynn had been urging me to track my food calories for years, but I had resisted. It seemed like far too much hassle. What if I was at a restaurant or at work? Would I carry around a notebook? Then enter that into a computer? I had better things to do.

With a smartphone those excuses evaporated — there are apps for tracking your food on the go. Suddenly counting calories sounded both easy and fun.

I started using Lose It! to track my calories in March of 2011. The software estimates how many calories you can eat per day so that you drop weight (up to two pounds a week). As you enter foods your bar of available calories fills up. If you exercise, it subtracts calories based on type and duration.

It’s very easy math: If you consume fewer calories than you burn, then you will lose weight.

In practice, calorie-counting was neither easy nor fun, and the Lose It! mobile app was a lot less user-friendly than the web site, which meant that ironically, I almost never used the very thing that had put me on this path in the first place. But once I had made the decision to track my caloric intake, I resolved to stick with it for at least a month.

Karawynn was super supportive. She doesn’t need to lose weight, but for the first two months she counted calories in solidarity with me. She also made a special effort to track all the ingredients in the food she prepared. Without her support, the initial months would have been a lot harder.

Awake, not ‘a Wake’

During the first three or four weeks, I was hungry fairly often. But I taught myself to respond to hunger differently.

Formerly my reaction had been to simply eat until the hunger subsided. Now, instead, I learned to mentally connect hunger with the knowledge that I was losing weight. I came to see hunger, in small doses, as a positive thing. And I also learned that I could abate the hunger — prevent it from growing into a large and controlling beast — by eating a few bites of something and waiting fifteen minutes.

My relationship with food had always been about sensory satisfaction. I ate when I was hungry. Or if I really wanted something sweet. Or sometimes even if I was just bored. Now, I became hyper-conscious of everything I put in my mouth.

The more I tracked my food, the more data I learned about the foods I liked to eat. For example, nuts are good for you, but they have a lot of calories. So don’t eat handfuls. Fats, of course, are very dense in calories, and so are baked sweets like muffins and cookies and donuts. Some store-bought muffins have more calories than three eggs and buttered toast! A typical bacon double cheeseburger contains more than half of my entire daily allotment. And who knew that two beers have as many calories as a quarter of a large pizza?

I started considering each and every morsel of food I ate. If there were donuts in the kitchen at work, instead of just grabbing one, I had to think about whether it was worth the 250-300 calories. My new-found knowledge led to more conscious food decisions not only after the fact, but also when I was choosing what to eat. Often I cut a donut in half to get the sweet-tooth satisfaction without the calorie cost of the whole pastry.

I had started to lose weight after about a week and a half. By four weeks or so, my stomach had shrunk, and I wasn’t hungry nearly as often. Encouraged, I kept going. For three months straight, I lost weight every week. My first target was 190 pounds, which I reached after ten weeks. I set a new target and went sailing past 185 pounds in another four weeks.

I hit a plateau around 183 pounds, but I didn’t let that stop me. I just kept logging my food.

I also started playing soccer again, twice a week. I think losing weight eased the stress on my knee enough to make running possible. Being able to play sports helped my mood enormously.

Staying Conscious

One year later, I’m down to 175 pounds — the same as in my twenties, and probably near the natural set point for my six-foot, two-inch frame. The size 38 jeans are long gone, and even the size 34s are feeling a little loose. I feel more energetic than I have in years. My recent blood sugar tests indicate that I’m no longer pre-diabetic.

Karawynn also reports that I snore a lot less, which means that we both get better sleep. I have a lot more self-confidence too. I feel attractive again.

Yes, it was difficult and uncomfortable for the first few weeks. Yes, there are still times when I’d rather not bother to log my food, but I force myself to do so anyway — at least to ballpark it. I’ve got it down to a habit that takes about as much time each day as brushing my teeth.

I still have trouble in certain environments, like parties where there are tables of brownies and chips and chicken wings. When we go out to my favorite restaurants I want to eat more than I should; I have to remind myself to stop and take a doggie bag home. I still love to eat rich and high-calorie food. And sometimes I exceed my allowance. But I log it anyway so I can compensate over the following days.

And even though I am no longer overweight, even though I am healthier now, I will continue to track calories. Being aware, being conscious and healthy and alive, is better than being unconscious, unhealthy, and un… alive. I not only owe that to myself, but to those who love me.

I have close friends and family who are overweight. I’m sure you do too. It’s not polite to tell people they’re fat, but sometimes I want to take them by the shoulders and shake them. I want to tell them:

Please wake up and do something about your weight. If not for your own sake, then do it for me and your loved ones.

Consider this an alarm. Please don’t hit snooze, because losing you would hurt like hell.

Friday, April 6

Saturday, April 7

One year ago today, my mother died after a long battle with ovarian cancer. She had dodged breast cancer bullets a couple of times … well, not really dodged so much as taken them in the chest. But this time the bullet was a shotgun shell to her abdomen full of twelve gauge tumor pellets. Her doctors performed surgery, but with so many tiny tumors the odds of getting all the cancer weren’t good.

After surgery, the chemotherapy made Mom’s life a waking nightmare of nausea and weakness and pain. This was her fourth round of chemo, and since it wasn’t working all that well — not buying her much time — she made the conscious choice to stop treatment.

We all knew that this decision meant her time was short, but we hoped that her quality of life would be higher during what remained. And she did have a few relatively ‘normal’ months before the deterioration overtook her.

I was not prepared for how heartbreaking it would be to see the shell of someone who had once been so vibrant and full of energy. But even so, I am grateful that I and the kids got the chance to see her several times at the end of her life, and to say goodbye.

Most healthy young people conceive of life as being constant until it ends abruptly. And sometimes it does, but sometimes a life withers away, and the older I get, the more I start thinking of how long I’ll be healthy enough to do the things I love.

I’ve started thinking of life in terms of quality time left, of how long I can stave off attrition. How long will I be able to play soccer? How many more times will I be able to go hiking with my kids? When will I lose my mental sharpness and become unable to write?

How much is three months of quality life worth? Or one month, or even a week?

I fully believe that Mom made the right decision. One year of vomiting isn’t better than three months of peace, but damn do I wish she’d had better choices.

Being Brave

Back in March of last year, Karawynn and the girls and I traveled to Yachats on the Oregon coast for Mom’s memorial service and the interment of her ashes. Even now, nearly a year later, I find it difficult to write about. I haven’t lost many people close to me, and I’m not sure I coped very well. But then again, does anyone?

In the days before the memorial service, we stayed in a beach-front rental house with my sister and her husband, my brother and his daughter. It was comforting to be surrounded by family.

The memorial ceremony itself was simple. It rained, but we crowded into the cemetery’s small shelter, above a picturesque graveyard that overlooks the ocean. “A tomb with a view,” we had joked earlier, but there was no joking on that day. I cried when my daughter Michaela sang “Into the West,” with my brother Jeff on guitar. I think most people did.

I have over the years become less communicative with distant friends and family. I can create fictional characters and give them deeply personal narratives, but I have a harder time sharing my own stories.

I understand some of the reasons for this. Every time I moved, I lost touch with friends or family. Setbacks in my career took a toll on my self-confidence. When my ex-wife and I separated, many of our friends disapproved and chose sides.

And near the end of Mom’s life, I gradually stopped talking to everyone except Karawynn and my girls. I closed in on myself.

Mom had supported me in everything I tried. She loved me even on the rare occasions when she didn’t agree with my life choices. And because she was my mom, I took that support and love for granted.

Mom would call me. Mom would email me. Mom would send gifts. She was always reaching out. And I responded; I could match her enthusiasm. But I rarely called or emailed her first. It was only after she couldn’t reach out, after she was so bedridden and brain-addled from cancer and drugs, that I began to initiate contact.

In December of 2010, knowing the end was near, we gave Mom a big party: a gathering of her friends and family to celebrate her life while she was still alive. Even on her deathbed, Mom provided the nexus around which we came together, as she had done for years.

And you know what? It was a warm and loving time despite the sadness. I had time alone with her, and she was lucid during some of it. I said my goodbyes. She told me that she loved me and to “be brave.”

As she was dying, Mom told me to be brave.

I am trying to take her words to heart. I have been making an effort to reach out to friends and family and share more of myself. That I am writing this journal now is, at least in part, because of her.

Thanks, Mom.

We didn’t have a large fortune when we launched Per Aspera back in 2003. We started with time and determination, but not much else. We funded our lives and our nascent press on credit cards and the belief that what we were doing was worthwhile. We wanted to publish books that were overlooked by traditional publishing for one reason or another, and prove that they could succeed both artistically and commercially.

We also maintained hope that one of our books would break out and float the whole operation.

By any objective analysis of our business back then, we failed. After releasing two books as print-on-demand trade paperbacks, we placed a huge bet by launching a line of cloth-bound editions, first with Singularity by Bill DeSmedt and later Steel Sky by Andrew C. Murphy. These were beautiful books with gorgeous interior design and great covers.

They sold well, but not well enough, and we had to close down. We laid off staff (some of whom were already working for free) and went into a state of torpor. That was in 2008.

Why Reboot?

Even though our books did not make enough to keep the business running, we did end up with some degree of creative and professional success. Singularity in particular was so well-received that I now believe all the effort and debt was worth publishing that one book. Several big-name hard SF writers gave it glowing blurbs. The novel garnered several awards, a number of ‘best-of’ mentions, and a whole slew of favorable reviews.

It’s still somewhat of a mystery why no larger publishers decided to buy Singularity. Thousands of mediocre books are published every year, and hundreds of good books are published that are not as good as Singularity and Steel Sky. They are published because enough of them sell. For the most part, publishing is a business and not an exercise in artistic integrity.

My intention when we shut down was always for the company to restart at some point when things were less busy and more financially stable. Karawynn and I were able to pay off the business debt a while ago, but the economy has been less than ideal and it’s emotionally hard to step back into a situation that has burned us in the past. No matter how much we loved doing it.

But the environment is different now. Publishing is changing. What was once a business quite hostile to small players is now one in which they can potentially thrive. A small press like ours might be able to sustain itself, and we might even have fun in the process.

Per Aspera Today

Christmas past

When I was growing up, Christmas was a big deal. It was an exciting and happy time for my siblings and myself. As a kid, I loved seeing the tree on Christmas morning with all the wrapped presents reflecting the tree lights. I liked making guesses about who they were for and what might be inside. I liked opening presents, and would be lying if I didn’t confess to being hyped about getting something awesome.

Our family exchanged gifts on a large scale — presents were both expensive and numerous. I’m not really sure why; our family wasn’t that well-off. My dad was a graduate student, then a post-doctoral researcher, then a rookie college professor. My mom had to work various service jobs to help support the family of five. We were lower-middle-class, I’d say.

My parents spent a lot of money, a lot of time, and a huge amount of effort on the celebration of Christmas. There was a fair amount of socializing (parties and dropping in on friends, or having them over), we went to midnight Mass, and had a big meal on Christmas day. But the main focus was on opening presents on Christmas morning.

Except for a few years in college when I was strapped for cash, I carried on this tradition as an adult, and loved it. Now however, while I still like to get gifts, my pleasure comes from feeling deep down that the giver was thinking about me and cares about me. What’s under the wrapping is not all that important. And I vastly prefer giving to getting.

Christmas present

And yet … I want Michaela and Claire to experience the wonder and joy of a Christmas morning with piles of wrapped gifts. Childhood is so fleeting, passing so quickly, that I want every experience for them to be as exciting or entertaining or heart-warming as possible. Logically, I know that not only is such a thing impossible, but that it’s likely not even advisable. Logically, I know that good parenting is as much about helping children learn the tools they’ll need when leaving the nest as it is about nurturing them while they’re in it.

Still, I want their childhood experiences to be at least as good as mine were, and better if possible. However, this year, we could not afford such a Christmas. We didn’t have the $500 or more that it would cost. Or more accurately: we made an assessment of the impact of such spending and decided that it would be risky and potentially damaging to our long-term finances. In years past, I’ve put a lot of the holiday cost on credit cards and paid it off over the course of the year. However, for the past few years we’ve made a vow to not incur credit card debt. We still use one card, but never carry a balance or spend more than we can immediately repay. Never.

Karawynn and I have a fairly strict budget, so we discussed things and decided to make some changes to how we celebrate this holiday. First of all, we opted to not buy a tree this year. I’ve always had a small ethical issue with killing a tree just to decorate the house, but the main reason was cost. Instead, we made our own wreaths from materials already in our house and with evergreen branches from our own yard. We also decorated our mantel with boughs and ornaments and lights.

The other thing we did was limit our spending on gifts. We bought relatively inexpensive gifts that we knew people wanted, and filled in the gaps with a few items from thrift stores. We managed to spend less than $40 total per person for the four people in our household. I made fudge as a holiday treat and to give away locally to friends, and for those people who weren’t local, I put together a web card with photos and a narrative of life events that happened over the year.

Karawynn and I had a good time, and I get the impression that the kids enjoyed the decorating and the gift exchange (however modest). I know they liked the fudge! We tried to temper expectations to minimize disappointment with the volume and caliber of the gifts, but an uncertain part of me can’t help but wonder if they just missed out on an irreplaceable childhood Christmas experience.

Christmas yet to come

Nobody complained. In fact, while the Christmas presents were less than epic, I think this will be a memorable holiday. Being forced into frugality by our current economic reality has resulted in positive changes. We did things (like make our own wreaths) we had never done before. We savored the gifts because there were fewer. Maybe I’m kidding myself, but I’d like to believe that Claire and Michaela took another step towards appreciating what they did get instead of lamenting what they didn’t.

In fact, I had been feeling quite satisfied with our (non-traditional) celebration until after I’d been on a group call with my dad, sister, and brother. After the call, Karawynn pointed out that I was apologetic and embarrassed when I’d talked about what presents the kids had gotten, about what the gifts we had exchanged.

I realized that even though none of my family was critical or condescending, I had a deep-seated embarrassment over the “inadequacy” of the presents. That embarrassment was derived from the difference between my experience and those of my other family members as compared to our collective history.

Thing is: I didn’t even realize that I felt that way. Karawynn had to point it out. And now that I know this about myself, I will do my best to combat it. I really am satisfied and, yes, even proud of how much holiday cheer we had.

I do really believe that Michaela and Claire had an experience worth savoring and remembering. I just have some work to do to be okay with that in comparison to my past and to the cultural norm. Next year is likely to be another frugal one, so I’ll have another chance.

Welcome to my brand-spanking new website. Isn’t it gorgeous? And slick? Yeah, I think so, too.

How did this come to be? How did my simple little website transform into this aesthetic wonder and practical powerhouse?

In an effort of near-Sisyphean proportions, my partner and web guru extraordinaire—Karawynn Long—designed and coded it for me. Here’s the 100% complete and true story:

How I Got A New Website

(un-embellished version)

Me: I’m going to start blogging!

K: [snorts] Good one!

Me: No, I’m serious!

K: [stops laughing and gives me a skeptical look]

Me: Just because I’ve started blogging a half-dozen times before, doesn’t mean I’ll fail this time! This time I have a strategy.

K: Heh, I’m sure you do.

Me: I do! I’m going to write only about stuff that I’m passionate about.

K: But who’s going to read a blog that’s only about porn and soccer and crème brûlée?

Me: [pondering] Actually…

K: Don’t think about that too much.

Me: I meant topics like writing, editing, and publishing. About events in my life and their effect on me… about stoicism and sustainability.

K: Seriously, no crème brûlée?

Me: The problem is that my blog doesn’t match the rest of my site.

K: Yeah, that is a problem. I could fix that for you.

Me: I’d love that, but do you have the time?

K: [shrugs] Sure. I could use it as a portfolio piece.

Me: [who recognizes a good thing] Oh wow, that sounds… um… involved.

K: [after a few minutes of researching] Not a simple job, but I’ve got this. I’ll do a custom design for you. Might not be done by lunch though.

Me: Oh that’s okay. I can wait until dinner, no problem.

[Several days (and a couple hundred questions from K) later.]

K: Well, I’ve had to brush up on PHP, and there’s still a lot to do. [shows me a long list]

Me: Wow, it’s already orders of magnitude better. Should I make a post?

K: Not yet. See that? I have to style that in CSS. And this here? The AJAX functionality is broken currently.

Me: Well, yeah, I’d like that, but I don’t really need—

K: Shht! I said I was going to fix your site. It’s not done yet.

Me: Okay, okay…

[Some days later]

Me: [admiring the site] Oh, this is awesome! And this! Rock!

K: [pleased look] It’s ready for you to post now, I think.

Me: Cool. I really like it! Hmm, I wonder if it’s possible to do <cool thing like pull quotes or asides or tilted photos>

K: Um, what?

Me: Shit, did I say that with my outside voice?

K: Yes. So what do you want now?

Me: Nothing. This is great! I love it.

K: [suspicious look] What!?

Me: Um… well, I was just wondering if <cool thing 1 and/or awesome function 2> would be possible and easy to do.

K: Oh sure, <awesome function 2> is easy. [makes a few keystrokes] Refresh your browser.

Me: [checking it out] Sweet! You’re awesome!

K: [smiles] Yep. But <cool thing 1> is going to mean recoding the server OS in machine language.

Me: Is that hard?

K: Just shut up and bring me food and drink. Also, clean the house because I’m not going to be able to leave my desk until this is done!

Me: [meekly] So, no posting today, then?

K: [tired glare]

Me: [leaving to clean the kitchen] Thought not.

K: [days later, exhausted] I’m done.

Me: [Looking at the site, which is gorgeous and has all the bells and whistles I could ever hope for] I love it, sweetie! I really do.

K: So you can post now. And you will post in your journal regularly. [this is clearly not a question]

Me: [in my best storm trooper voice] So, I will post in my journal regularly.

K: [makes Jedi hand motion] Move along.

Me: Move along.

K: [taps foot]

Me: I’ll get started then.

K: Yes. Yes you will.