Web works

I’m doing a quick website, a ‘throw-away’ site – for hire – of course –

What’s fun, to me, is that this site that I’m doing? All modern, all done with cascading style sheets. Which, in effect, is really pretty cool. Took me a while to wrap my brain around it, but when starting from scratch, it’s going to be a simple site for an event, just a few pages, it just works so nicely.

It was, for a change, just a pleasure to get all this started out the right way. Built from scratch, with a Gemini pushing herself to exhaustion, talking a mile-a-minute into the phone. It’s a long-distance thing.

After whacking away at the web project, nothing like a little project to keep me happy for a spell, I got sidetracked looking for a Hebrew font to install and use. Turns out, this system already has one installed, I just couldn’t figure out how to use it. Need it for an inscription. The bad news? Two hours wasted wading through technical specs and sites about mac crap. The good news? All billable to the client. The downside? I still haven’t figured it all out. I’m waiting on that light bulb to spark. Usually, a little stroll helps.

I took a break, and headed out for a little bit of what I thought would be heaven. Big paper cup filled with diet coke, hotlink and stale bun from a convenience store, slathered in cheap, yellow mustard.

But after one series of frustrations, one after another, and bank teller that left me wondering how (oh never mind, it’s not worth the effort to explain), even that hotlink and lotto ticket didn’t cheer me up.

I can blame the planets and their evil disarray.

I hadn’t heard from my Pisces friend in few days, or weeks, really, and so I called her up. Mercury tales, part what-the-ever?

Phone goes off, I can hear her answer it, but nothing happens. In the background, there’s a particular, almost like a signature, laugh.

Undaunted, I called back.

Dinner and drinks.

Under the evening’s sky, low in the east, there was Mars, in Pisces, moon close at hand.

“There, my sweet Pisces, that’s why life feels like a 4 x 4 truck on you these days.”

But don’t try this in your own home, and don’t try it without adult supervision.

About the author: Born and raised in a small town in East Texas, Kramer Wetzel spent years honing his craft in a trailer park in South Austin. He hates writing about himself in third person. More at KramerWetzel.com.

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