The Painful Birth of My Website Which Has Not Actually Been Born Yet

The Painful Birth of My Website Which Has Not Actually Been Born Yet
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I tried to make my own website.

“You’re so lucky that your SigO is a programmer! I bet you have a great website!” someone said to me recently.

“Not so much. He feels like I should be able to do it all on my own,” I answered. I understood SigO’s position—this was my public face, I should be able to manage all of it at any time and not have to wait for someone else to change or fix things. He was right.


Apparently the part of my brain that tuned out during math class in high school is the same part of my brain that now tunes out when it comes to programing. Oh, I can write a blog and choose from standard templates, but when it comes to watching instructional videos or reading the Friendly* Manual my brain instead starts making grocery lists and writing blogs in my head. Like this one, for example.

But I tried. Specifically, I tried Blogger, Word Press, Wix, Square Space, and Sand Vox. Like I was told to. I had half-a-websites in multiple places and had already moved my domain name once, which was not a joy and took several weeks for the first place to release the name so the second place could grab it. I had been using Blogger for years, so I gave up on the fancy other apps because Fear of Friendly* Manuals and tried Blogger again.

*Friendly is a replacement for another F word that I use in conjunction with tech manuals that probably makes me look like I have a poor vocabulary.

I showed SigO my Blogger creation. I had forced the app to do what I wanted through a lot of manual labor and cute photos.

SigO: Your hyperlinks are different colors.

Me: Yeah, I don’t know how to fix that.

SigO: Your font sizes are all over the place.

Me: I tried to fix them eight times and then I gave up. I can’t make it work. It’s good enough, right?

SigO: No.

He started by emailing me articles to read about templates and SEOs. Which I meant to read, I really did, but my brain hurt just looking at their titles. And then I forgot.

SigO, being a good SigO, decided to take matters into his own hands. He then started designing my website, which was fantastic because then I didn’t have to do it.

The problem was that SigO wanted to talk to me about my website every night, and not in the, “Look how shiny and pretty this perfect website I created for you,” kind of way. He used words that sounded as if Charlie Brown’s teacher was talking to me. “Waa waa waa waaa.” (That would make more sense if you could hear me talking.) He seemed to think if he explained things correctly, I would magically understand.

“Never underestimate my ability to completely screw up code,” I reminded him.

“Good point,” he said.

This is what I have gleaned from our conversations so far:

There are different sized cups for data, and you have to decide which size cup you need at the very beginning, before you have anything to put on the website and really know if you need a shot glass or a drunk-puking-in-the-middle-of-the-night-sized basin. Because the architecture can’t be changed. Like a prehensile tail. If you aren’t born with one, you can’t grow it later. (That was my analogy, and it rocks I tell you.)

Top=skeleton. Everything you need is contained in the code for top. No, I don’t know what that means either, but I smiled and nodded.

Looking at 750 lines of code is like looking at that vase/face drawing. He sees organized instructions; I see the shapes made on the left by the indents. Then I try to figure out what the shape most resembles while he thinks I am fascinated by reading the code because I am staring so intently at the screen.

We agree that it’s really important that I learn some basic coding in case he dies. Because that is the only way he would trust me with the code (wisely) but he doesn’t know that if he dies I’ll pay someone to figure it out. So maybe only he agrees that I should learn some code.

While listening to his explanations of code I also learned that a piece of sunflower seed husk can be removed from between my teeth with the ribbon tie of my pajama bottoms.

It’s possible that I am the most reluctant and irritating person to try and teach code to. (My words, not his.) Therefore, I am incredibly grateful that I no longer have to do it.

If you move pajama-ed legs back and forth quickly on the rug, you can roll up your ankles into a pajama tube without using your hands.

I like rounded corners better than square corners. This is the only opinion I have about website design.

It is a lot more work to design a website than I ever thought was possible.

I should probably wait to post this blog until I have an actual working website, but we all know I am too impulsive for that.

Conclusion: I am very lucky that SigO is patient and also good at programing.

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