Elan Morgan is a writer and web designer who works from Elan.Works, a designer and editor at GenderAvenger, and a speaker who has spoken across North America. They believe in and work to grow both personal and professional quality, genuine community, and meaningful content online.

#446: EVERYBODY BETTER BE REAL NICE TO ME OVER THIS COMING WEEK, BECAUSE THIS MORNING, I FOUND OUT THAT I'M A DARN GOOD MENACER

Before I tell you about my lovely weekend, one which was rife with parental units, I must explain what has been happening with the design of this site. I have been learning XHTML and CSS, I have been figuring out how to make templates that work across Firefox, IE, Netscape, and Opera, and I have been using this site to do it. It would have been better to do all my practicing elsewhere, but frankly, I am not always that logical.

Today's design is courtesy of my having destroyed my copy of yesterday's template when I was sleepily attempting to post an entry, clicked my way over to the wrong place, and accidentally deleted a bunch of essential code. By 7:30 am, I was busily trying to rebuild. It turned into a redesign with a major simplification of the material in the sidebar and the beginning of adding categories through the use of Del.icio.us.

Also, I have decided to grace you with my drawings occasionally. I apologize in advance.

Will this constant shifting end soon? We can only hope.



oskar sitting in a window


Having just come to the end of two extremely stressful weeks, I was looking forward to relaxing this weekend, but it was not to be.

Originally, my parents were going to come down to Cityville for a conference and then visit with the Fiery One and I on Thursday evening before retiring to their hotel and returning to Cosmopolis on Friday morning. Plans changed, though.

They decided that they wanted to drive on from Cityville to Manitoba on Saturday to visit with my brother and his girlfriend. Because their free hotel ride was over after Thursday night, they decided to stay at our apartment.

Okaaaay. No much-needed Friday-night imbibing to kill off a few nagging demons. No relaxing with my feet up and my hand tucked into the front of my pants. No gratuitous farting and belching around the apartment just for the gross, stress-burning fun of it. Instead, I raced home to clean the cat litter, dust, sweep, put books away, and do some dishes.

And I cried a little on the cat's sweet fuzzy head, because I was tired and selfish and wanted nothing more than to shut all of humanity out for a few hours.

We all (meaning my parents, the Fiery One, his brother, Mr. Saucy, who is visiting from Vancounver, and I) went for a late supper on Friday, and just as we were pulling out of the restaurant's parking LOT, a bomb went off in the van. It was a big, powerful Change of Plans bomb that reduced my voice to a strained eep. We're going to be staying until Sunday now. That's okay, right? my mother said. Absolutely, I eeped.

Really, our visit was going swimmingly. We had cooked together, visited, mellowed out with some Costa Rican rum, and laughed at Oskar's ability to fly across, around, and under the furniture. We were enjoying each other's company.

But... my mind has been in a rapid downward spiral lately, and being personable was a lot of work. My parents left this morning for Manitoba, and I have just now started to feel where the knots in my shoulders are from last week. I want to be funny and light, but that's just not what is coming through my fingers today.

I even yelled at the cat this morning and menaced him in the kitchen for being a big twit who wouldn't SHUT THE HELL UP, and then he looked up at me with those big eyes of his and started trying to give me affectionate head-butts to appease me. I felt like the most horrible cat owner ever. Luckily, Oskar is all good with being cried all over, and he let me hold him like a baby and snot on his ears. I think he likes the salt.

I am starting to think that I need a three-month-long, medicated vacation in something akin to solitary confinement.