The Art of French Baking: Strawberry Frangipane

he Art of French Baking, published by Phaidon, is a beautiful book. The covers are padded and sparkling white, the pages thick and smooth, the photographs well shot and printed, and any cookbook with bookmark ribbons gets a lot of points from me. However, the recipes seem to leave a little something to be desired.

I am an experienced baker. Not an expert, not experimental, and not a chemist, but my pie crusts are tender and flaky, my bread rises and my batters are light and fluffy. Therefore I was somewhat surprised when several recipes from this book did not come together or bake in the way I expected. The instructions are quite brief, which is fine if one already has some technique, but I repeatedly found myself with a dough that didn't hold together despite extra liquid, or choux puffs that simply wouldn't rise (I tried twice in one day), or worse, cookies that burned but didn't bake through.

So now I've determined that I'll just need to reinterpret and double check the recipe for logic before I start anything. Make sure the oven temperature doesn't seem oddly high, that the wet and dry proportions make sense and that I can adjust here and there. Or at least I can make the recipes with frosting and cover up all the little problems!

Today I needed to use up the last of a flat of strawberries from market, and the Strawberry Frangipane looked pretty easy. It's just egg yolks, sugar, ground almonds and strawberries. Nothing can go wrong! Well, nothing except my being short an egg. Sigh. So I just eased back on the other ingredients. The batter was thicker than I was expected and didn't exactly pour between the strawberries, but it did melt around them once in the oven. Then it was just a matter of keeping an eye on it until the top was the perfect shade of done... except when I cut into it, the inside was not at all done. Not even a little. Back into the oven it goes.

I'm fairly fed up at this point, having never had so much trouble with recipes before. Perhaps it's partially my fault, but with every recipe coming from the same book it seems unlikely that this is entirely on me. I really want to love The Art of French Baking, but it's not living up to my expectations. You all know what the lesson is here, right?

Here's a quick list of the things I've made from this book:

• Sweet orange croquettes- excellent
• Babas au rhum- pretty good, not as fluffy as I'd like.
• Pate a choux puffs with pastry creme- total fail, no puff to be had, more like cookies. I have done these successfully in the past with a Martha Stewart recipe!
• Petit fours with chocolate ganache and sprinkles- worked well in mini muffin tins
• Duchesse petits fours- Dough didn't even slightly hold together and overcooked too quickly
• Orange gateau, I think- I have a vague memory of using a pineapple, too. dunno.
• Sweet slices- basically sugar cookies, oven temp was also too high
• Strawberry Frangipane- Ha. Maybe once it's baked for three times the suggested time!

Book review: Gaining Ground by Forrest Pritchard

efore I begin my review of Gaining Ground, allow to me to make a quick disclaimer: I am not an objective reader. In fact, I have worked for Forrest at farm markets every weekend for over a year now, in rain, snow, wind, thunder and tourist season. Before Smith Meadows came into my life I was largely vegetarian in order to avoid sponsoring the horror stories I read about the papers and books like Omnivore's Dilemma and Deep Economy. Then, through a boyfriend's friend's sister's best friend I found Smith Meadows, the perfect local farm with all the practices and principles an idealist could hope for.

Forrest Pritchard is Smith Meadows' farmer, its steward and practically a part of the soil he has worked so hard to nourish from the sad state it was in after years of overuse. As it turns out, lush pasture is easily achieved through a combination of patience and well planned herd rotation, switching between cattle, pigs, chickens and sheep, letting each fertilize and refresh the soil in turn. "Easily," of course, is a relative term when one is reading about it all from a comfy chair with a nice cup of tea.

In truth, it took not only years of hard work but decades of failure for the Pritchard family farm to turn around and produce a profit (as well as valuable land, animals and a sterling example of good farming practices). Gaining Ground recounts the journey Forrest took his entire family on when he realized that farming might be more of a calling for him than teaching (though writing is clearly still in his repertoire). As a bit of a book connoisseur, I did note that the book itself has a good looking, glossy cover, the text is printed clearly on nice feeling paper and the photos are incredibly helpful in placing the reader right there on the farm.

Gaining Ground has a good flow that kept me impatient to turn the page for the next adventure or roadblock, even though I knew exactly how it turned out. Forrest's anecdotes are sometimes touching, often hilarious, and range from rampant hogs to very confused market customers to a couple of completely baffling exchanges with a butcher. Pedro the goat, for instance, accompanied by Travis the humming farmhand, has a highly amusing adventure with some marigolds, in true goat-style.

As somewhat of an insider, I also know that there is a lot left out of this 317 page book. There were more adventures with goats, some ducks, more about Nancy's pasta business, a food truck and many more humorous stories from market and the farm. One hopes there will be a second book in the works... I, for one, would have enjoyed the inclusion of Forrest's other writing, perhaps the poetry he mentions sending off to literary magazines early on. The book stands at the right length and breadth to be a reasonable and fun read (One of Publishers Weekly's top 10 summer reads in nonfiction), though the prose could have dug a little deeper into the emotional underpinnings here and there.

The other members of the family receive occasional mentions, but the elder Mr. Pritchard has a fair share of the spotlight as he does his best to support his harebrained son through the snafus and disappointments of starting his free-range, grass-fed meat business. Mr. Pritchard's declining health provides a backdrop that Forrest puts to use in framing the problems with the commercial food industry and how we think about food in terms of cost, taste and enjoyment. On the whole, Gaining Ground is a good story, not an essay on farming practices, and it is this difference that will help readers to understand on a personal level what it means to buy local and why they too should work to save the family farm.

I did have one customer at market ask if Gaining Ground was a collection of recipes from Smith Meadows Kitchen, and when I passed this along to Forrest he said, "Sure, it's a recipe book. There's a real important recipe in there, they'll just have to read all the way to the end."

Gaining Ground is available on Amazon.com, in hardcopy and Kindle editions, and on IndieBound, as well as at your friendly local DC farm markets listed here. If you bring your copy to Smith Meadows farm day on June 1, Forrest will be happy to sign it for you. He may even sign copies brought to the Arlington and Takoma Park markets where he usually can be found on weekends. I will be putting my signed review copy in the Little Free Library for which I am co-steward. Pass it on!

Web Design Process: Yet More Lists

ll right, first things first. Before I go trying to put my website together willy nilly, I need a plan, a master list of desired components and functionality, and a general idea of how to get from here to there. Disclaimer: I have not actually done this before! I've worked on sites designed by someone else, I've done some super basic HTML/CSS work (like my pesky resume and my placeholder website), and I've certainly spent plenty of time thinking about it and reading and researching. So here goes:

Things I'd like from my site:

• A Gallery of photos: no commenting, prints for sale, easily populated (Lightroom export?), cataloged by keyword, location, highly searchable, and someday I'd like it to include interactive collaging
• About/info page: bio 
• Contact: email, links to me elsewhere like twitter etc, RSS for photos and blog?
• Blog: old posts from blogger + new posts, shiny layout, browseable, comments, share buttons
• Portfolio: other design work, samples, articles, projects, certificates, whatever else
• Someday: a sandbox area near the portfolio for projects in progress, something to do with Github? 
• Aesthetic: simple, lots of white space (or black space), nice OFL (Open Font License) fonts and thin lines, simple image display, good navigation, one animation/movement/interactive element on top page. 

The basic steps outlined below are a combination of my notes from several sources. I learned most of the prototyping and user-testing steps from a class called Human Computer Interaction taught online by Scott Klemmer from Stanford. Not my favorite class on Coursera due to some frustration with the peer-grading setup, but nonetheless informative.

I also discovered that a local web design etc firm called Clikzy Creative posted their entire design process to their site so that clients will know what they're getting into. My process will be a bit different, of course, but it's good to know how a more formal environment would handle the same task.

• Essentially: "Discovery, Site Map, Content, Wireframe, Mockup, Revise, Develop, SEO, Launch."

The Moxie Design Studio also has their process up on their website. They do a bunch of websites for local Alexandria businesses, so I had seen their work quite a few places already. They also list a general set of project prices on their site, which is somewhat unusual, but very helpful since I had no idea what I should be charging for my work.

• So again, an essential process looks like: "Discussion, Goals, Mockups, Revisions, Development and Programming, Soft Launch and Client Training, Full Launch and two weeks included Support." 

It's really hard being independent and not letting clients take advantage of you by asking "just a quick question" that actually takes half an hour and is billable. And that's just one reason I'd rather not work for myself!

Back to my own website. A few basic steps to get there:

1. Define required elements - site map (above)
2. Find appropriate platform
3. Wireframing, prototypes, mockups - grids?
4. Testing it on unsuspecting potential users - feedback and revision
5. Build, develop, whatever you want to call it
6. Design details/ illustrations? Finishing touches
7. Later additions: animation, better databases? E-commerce... 

Each step along the way will probably be a bit more involved, but that should give me a good starting framework to go on. Don't mind me if both my website and blog suddenly disappear while I'm shuffling things around...

Sketchy resume design

he most important thing to me right now is keeping my perspective. If my goals aren't in clear sight, I get massive scope creep and wind up trying to learn Unix instead of just working on my HTML project (see hereabouts). However, at this stage it's also important for me to be exploring, dabbling, learning everything I can, and even when projects don't work out or seem unreasonable in some way, I do still learn something from the experience.

Take the newfangled resume I created, for instance. It didn't come out quite as responsive as I hoped, largely because of some finicky elements and my avoidance of media breakpoints. What was interesting, however, was talking to a friend who is familiar with hiring processes at a very prominent tech company. He indicated that a good looking resume is nice and all, but what's most important is a) contact info and b) recent experience. The rest is just noise.

In all fairness, programmers are not necessarily interested in shmancy presentation and part of my goal was showing web design skills. However that was pretty irrelevant when I realized I didn't really want to host my resume publicly on my website.

The process was kind of interesting. I had a basic idea what I wanted to do, drew up some rough sketches (above) with actual pencil and paper (I can't handle initial sketching on a screen, sort of like how I just can't stand e-books. I'm a holdover, I know.) Then I entered my content in an HTML document, put it into sections and got the basic structure marked up. From there it was all about CSS, I barely touched the HTML document again except to add some id attributes. Below are some screencaps of the layout along the way, shown with boxes and dotted borders so I could keep track of what element was where. I admit I went a little crazy with the colors...

And yes, I blurred them, because the text isn't the point here. Some of my original ideas were even more abstract, but it became clear that I did need to say something about what skills came from which job. I considered doing this with some sort of clever mouseover thing, where a line from skill to experience would pop up, but decided that was definitely too fussy.

Anywho, one important question that came up in the process was how relative placement communicated relationship and meaning of each element. Elements next to each other would speak to each other in some way and have some relationship. I think I may just go back to my old, boring resume (though with less hideous layout, at least).

... After all that, I'm very done with this stage. Anyone have experience with designed v. functional resumes? Does a different layout affect your opinion of identical content?

Optional HTML, good idea?

ack along the trail I was following in my post on carousels and web design firms I stumbled across Google's HTML and CSS Style Guide. This is, of course, just one resource in a sea of options, and as the name suggests, "more like guidelines, anyway." I found it useful to glance over to get an idea of what to do with my code once I had grasped some of the basic stuff.

The Style Guide has some helpful reminders about indentation (don't mix spaces and tabs, indent child elements), plus general etiquette (stick with the previous author's style, be consistent). The whole thing can be summed up as: optimize as much as possible, made code easy for collaborators to scan through. Somewhere halfway down the page, though, I found a section on optional HTML tags.

In all fairness, both Google and the WhatWG HTML5 spec frame this concept with "you may" and "consider" and other non-mandatory type phrasing. But I thought, hey, here's another way to be kind of minimalist, keep things tidy, not have more clutter than is really needed. And indeed, I could simply be rid of the <html>, <head>, <body> and a whole pile of closing tags. But! the traditionalist and skeptic in me took a pause and said, "Should I really mess with this right now? I haven't noticed this implemented anywhere, and my classes/research have all indicated that closing tags are the basis of a well-formed markup language. Maybe this is best left for another day."

Well ok, inner-skeptic, but I still want to learn a little more. So, some questions:

• What exactly constitutes a valid, well-formed markup language?

A markup language (ML just for now, though not to be confused with ML, the functional programming language I just couldn't deal with) is used to annotate and describe a document. I'm not going to go into the history and fascinating variety of MLs here, so suffice to say that in this case, for HTML or XML, the markup is intended to indicate what each tagged element contains. In HTML this could be a <header> or a <section>, which provide the browser with standard elements to display and style accordingly. XML uses tags to describe content, too, but is best suited to databases (DB). Since it is used in DBs, it is particularly necessary to have both starting and ending tags and to completely conform with the DB definition or else any references to each element would just fail. Not going into that here.

So a well-formed and valid bunch of whicheverML follows all the rules in the relevant specification and passes tests like the W3C validator. Well-formed generally refers to syntax, so elements that are arranged according the rules are syntactically correct. The traditional definition of well-formed includes closing anything that has an opening tag and properly nesting elements. A valid ML also follows its Document Type Definition (DTD), a sort of grammar dictionary for how to apply the language (here's the HTML4 DTD, for example). See the W3C validator's info here.

• How much of a difference in speed does tag omission really confer? 

There's not a ton of this out there on the surface, but again, Google has been implementing, or rather, omitting, the optional tags to decrease file size. When every bit counts, taking out even just a few characters here and there can add up to a big difference. According to the Google Developers article and video on reducing HTML document file size, this can actually result in "5-20% savings" in load time.

There's a conversation on StackOverflow from 2010 about how much of a difference this could actually make. It's hypothesized that especially at Google's size, "</body></html> is 14 characters and at 3 billion searches per day, it amounts to approximately39.12 GB of data per day ignoring compressions, or around 26 GB if we take gzipping into account." And another discussion from about the same time that goes more in depth on the whole issue. 

• Are there any arguments against tag omission on the whole?

Some people argue for tag omission for readability, others argue against tag omission for readability. So either way, people will eventually stumble through your code. The best reason not to omit is probably compatibility. Some browsers might not recognize an unclosed element properly, some scripts may get confused, it really depends what the content is expected to do. It winds up being a personal choice: you can include the superfluous, or you can be hyper meticulous and make sure you are only omitting tags that can be omitted and not getting confused in the process.

• Is this just one of those crazy, Google-is-way-ahead-of-everyone-else-again things?

Hard to say. Tag omission is out there, but most people don't need the speed that badly. The implementation status on the HTML5 spec only suggests that tag omission hasn't been tested on the latest browser builds.

Moving on, letting go

he hardest part of a project for me is deciding that it's finished. Usually it takes getting distracted by something new for me to really move on (this probably goes for some other stuff, too...) because otherwise I just can't let myself stop futzing, adjusting and perfecting. Translation: beating my head against something that just isn't making any more progress. So I have to learn to let it go, move forward.

In case you haven't been following along, in this case I'm referring to my "One Week Website" series of posts (clearly the timing didn't quite work out, but I never really expected it to). I started designing a new resume, and made great leaps of progress... until I ran into a wall attempting to make it perfectly responsive. This actually would have worked fine except that in keeping it super simple I was avoiding @media queries and pretty much everything except some basic CSS (see below).

And it was all going pretty well until I went to make a PDF. I have no idea how print formatting works, from web page to print dialog to PDF, but the margins didn't behave properly, it didn't fit on one page, and the white space looked weird instead of stylish (at least I hope the HTML version looks decent). So I reformatted a bit with those 800px min-widths on the #page-wrap and #content sections. Of course, now the #web and #general skills lists don't float and switch from side-by-side layout to being a single column, which means the 50% layout looks darn silly on mobile.

I tried using sections and header and h1-h6 instead of a flock of divs, and since this is a one use document, I just went with ids rather than classes. Feels wrong, though. At the very least, I have a resume that looks a little better than an old Word document, even if it isn't actually responsive. And! I did finally stop poking at it and just hit print.

body {font: normal 1em Times, serif;}
#page-wrap {width: 75%; margin: 5% auto; min-width: 800px;}
#me {display: inline-block; width: 100%; position: relative;}
#logoname {float: left; width: 25%; min-width: 165px;}
#logoname span span:first-of-type {color: #6C8771;}
#logoname span {color: #4D4D4D}
#contact {text-align: right; position: absolute; right: 0; bottom: 0;}
#content {width: 75%; float: right; min-width: 800px;}
#skills li {text-indent: -0.5em; padding-left: .5em;}
#web {float: left; width: 50%; clear: both;}
#general {float: left; width: 50%;}
#experience {clear: both;}
#learning li {display: inline; padding: 0 0.5em; border-left: 1px solid black;}
#learning li:last-child {border-right: 1px solid black;}

section {border-top: 1px solid black; padding-bottom: 20px;}
h1, h2, h3, h4, h5 {font-family: Baskerville, Palantino, serif; border-top: 1px solid black; margin: 0; padding: 0; display: inline-block; margin-bottom: 2%;}
h1 {font-size: 2em;}
h4 {float: left; font-size: 1.17em;}
h5 {padding-top: 3px;}
a {text-decoration: none; color: black;}
a:hover {color: gray;}
ul {list-style: none; padding:0; margin: 0;}
li {margin-bottom: 1%;}
dl {padding: 0; margin: 0;}
dt {padding-bottom: 1px;}
dd {padding-bottom: 1%;}

Now I just need to figure out if I really want to make my entire resume public on the internet. My feeling is no, not one bit, but then part of the point of doing it in HTML is lost. Still, it was fun to put together, and that's more important anyway.

Memory catalog

ometimes, months or years later, things come back to me that I once read in some book, some article, somewhere in the wide world. If I'm very lucky, I can track the fragmented memory to the source. Maybe I remember hearing the ocean wind whistling in my ears alongside the words that have pushed to the surface of my thoughts, or perhaps the context of surrounding material has remained, a preceding essay in a collection or the experience of an online newspaper. If I'm so lucky, I can usually find the original piece and catalog it more thoroughly for the next time (thereby guaranteeing that there will be no next time).

In this case, I had a thought bubble up about explaining the size of one's library to guests when they ask "So, you've read all of these?" What a silly question. It's usually posed by someone who has no library of their own, no understanding of the value of such a collection as insurance against dullness and the possibility of suddenly finding oneself with nothing to read. Sure, I have read a large number of the books on my shelves, and I keep them around as reminders of good times, comforting me with the knowledge that I absorbed something from each of them, and can easily open them up again as I please.

It's this last point that is relevant here. The book in question turned out to be A Passion for Books, appropriately enough. I brought this somewhat large paperback along on a solo bike trip last summer under the assumption that I would have time and energy left for reading after biking 60 miles a day. I did not. Nonetheless, I got through a couple of the essays and whatnot while in various B&Bs and the memory link stuck. The book, my friend, had traveled with me and formed that particular synaptical [sic!] connection while in the middle of strange lands (Western Maryland, you know) and unfamiliar furnishings.

Here now are the three passages by assorted authors from the Passion for Books collection which each mention (independently!) the arduous task of explaining one's library to unsuspecting visitors:

In the gradual growth of every student's library, he may – or may not – continue to admit literary friends and advisers; but he will be sure, sooner or later, to send for a man with a tool-chest. Sooner or later, every nook and corner will be filled with books, every window will be more or less darkened, and added shelves must be devised. He may find it hard to achieve just the arrangement he wants, but he will find it hardest of all to meet squarely that inevitable inquiry of the puzzled carpenter as he looks about him. "Have you really read all these books?" The expected answer is, "To be sure, how can you doubt it?" Yet if you asked him in turn, "Have you actually used every tool in your tool-chest?" you would very likely be told, "Not one half as yet, at least this season; I have the others by me, to use as I need them." Now if this reply can be fairly made in a simple, well-defined, distinctly limited occupation like that of a joiner, how much more inevitable it is in a pursuit which covers the whole range of thought and all the facts in the universe. The library is the author's tool-chest. He must at least learn, as he grows older, to take what he wants and to leave the rest. 

Books Unread by Thomas Wentworth Higginson (what a name)

In the two years I had been coming there, maybe two or three hundred days spent in that apartment from morning till night, I never saw anyone else there – no visitor, no delivery person, no handyman – no one. I asked Chaim about this on one of our walks (I later understood that great Yiddish writers simply do not have or permit visitors; then again, maybe it was the threat of coffee that kept everyone away), and he said something about not wanting people to think him strange for having too many books. I thought he was talking about the annoying line all book collectors endure: Have you read all of these books? I told him about Dr. Johnson's stock response: Yes, and some of them twice! Chaim stopped walking and looked at me disdainfully. "If anyone asks you if you've read all those books," he said, "it means you don't have enough books."

They Don't Call It a Mania for Nothing by Harold Rabinowitz (also the editor of Passion)

About the time of the discovery of America a book came out called The Ship of Fools, by one Sebastian Brant. In it was an attack on the book fool: a satire on the passion of collecting, in which the author said that the possession of books was but a poor substitute for learning. That phrase which the layman reader asks the book collector so often with a smirk of condescension, "So you really read them?" undoubtedly originated then. The real book collector, with suppressed murder in his heart, smiles acquiescence, assuming an apologetic air for his peculiar little hobby. His invisible armor is his knowledge, and he has been called a fool so often he glories in it. He can afford to have his little joke. So much for this threadbare gibe.

Talking of Old Books by A.S.W. Rosenbach (perhaps the most successful modern book collector of them all)

Encouraging growth (aka, pruning)

istinctly not my most exciting post ever: Last week, mid-March, I went about the process of pruning some of the more unruly shrubs around the yard. Today, it's snowing and there's an inch of frozen precipitation covering the buds and new shoots. Oh well? I've put together a second sheet in my spreadsheet of garden info using my favorite pruning book, the American Horticultural Society's Pruning and Training.

For the most part, pruning is about removing dead or diseased parts of the plant and encouraging growth. It's important to understand how a plant reacts to pruning in order to stimulate the growth you want. When a cut is made, the plant will react by putting energy into growing side buds on that same branch, or if you've cut back hard, by sprouting a bunch of new shoots from around the base of that cut. So, you'll want to cut back to just above a bud, so that the branch can then create a couple new branches and nice bushy growth. The book really explains this better.

The result of my tidying was a large trash bin of very prickly rose branches, yet to picked up by our wonderful local rubbish collection service. My rose bushes are tidier without dead branches cluttering up their undersides and centers (preventing light from reaching the lower branches and providing a home for mildew, bugs and other troubles), and a few of the other shrubs around the yard are less leggy and ready to fluff out with spring growth. Anyway, here's the new pruning sheet:



Next up on my list is fixing the boxwood disaster in front. I've debated between just trimming it back up into formal hedge shape and trying out some cloud pruning, but I think the former will win out. It's just so dull looking in front of the house with nothing but green hedge. If I trim up the underside enough I may be able to get some wandering jew under there, or at least a couple pots of trailing vines.

Book review: Feynman's Rainbow

hen I started reading Feynman's Rainbow, all I knew about it was that it was on my to-read stack as a result of being a recent gift, and of course the title. I mean, heck, it includes "Feynman," what could go wrong? I had forgotten the other reference point that came with it: Leonard Mlodinow was also a writer for Star Trek. This finally occurred to me somewhere later in the book when he mentions his writing hobby and desire to become a screenwriter.

Most of the memoir/biography is about Mlodinow's time at Caltech in the 1980s, when he was unsure as to his worth as a physicist (and human being, since these things tend to devolve quickly into total failure of confidence). Supposedly, Rainbow is more about Feynman than Mlodinow, hence "biography," but I found it to be more focused on the author's soul-searching and interactions with many other characters at Caltech. Sure, there are big block quotes from his conversations with Feynman, but they're more anecdotal than anything else. That makes me think that the book rides on the famous physicist's name, but survives on the actual content.

Double rainbow over Marlboro College, 2006

And it was rather compelling content, too. Perhaps that's just because I feel like I'm in a similar, confusing, in-between place where I'm not terribly confident in my abilities. Still, Mlodinow's writing was engaging and he explained the related physics in straight-forward terms, just to fill the reader in on context.

While the book's title comes from a particular section on finding what is beautiful and amazing to you and then following that sense to your life's work, I particularly appreciated this quotation from Feynman:

I have to think I have a little bit better chance than the other guys, for some reason. I know in my heart that it is likely false, and likely the particular attitude I'm taking with it was thought of by others. I don't care; I fool myself into thinking I have an extra chance. That I have something to contribute. Otherwise I may as well wait for him to do it, whoever it is. 

Resumes and RWD: Content, content, content

ho knew I was doing it all wrong? Throughout my working life, my resume has been horrendously unattractive, difficult to scan, uninteresting, bland, and generally makes me wonder how I've gotten as many interviews as I have. Well, no more! I recently stumbled across a couple of graphic designers' resumes and realized that a resume doesn't have to be a dry, formulaic monstrosity (mine was also much too long, a sure indicator of my lack of experience). In my own defense, I had put that resume together while working and looking at jobs in the federal government, which is really not known for being terribly stylish. But that's just an excuse.

In reading back over some previous versions of my resume (pre-Git infestation in my life, so piles of old files), I noticed that not only had I dropped some minor positions from the tail-end, but I had also lost interesting tidbits like the list of gallery shows my artwork had been displayed in. I'm not currently looking for work as a photographer, but those shows were something I was proud of and had worked hard on. Could they be considered work experience, or just an example of well-roundedness? Is character an asset better addressed in a cover-letter and/or interview?

Somewhere not too long ago I made a mental note that it was possible to write a resume in HTML, rather than the old word processor approach. Then my brain did its thing and a dim little bulb lit up; an HTML resume is a great way to show off the fact that I can create a bit of content and do some basic styling. Plus, it would get me away from the headache of nudging paragraphs and headings around in Google Drive. Complete control! mwaha– ...I've been saying that too much in these posts lately. oops.

Here's where I went slightly astray: doing a bit of background research on HTML resumes. I only meant to find a couple examples (see my collection here), but somewhere along the way ran into A List Apart (ALA)'s article on responsive resumes. Which is when I realized I had seen a retweet of this article on responsive web design (RWD) earlier in the day. Which took me back to another article from ALA on fluid layouts, flexible images, and media queries (RWD in a nutshell), further explained with handy percentage-based grid templates and some guidance on element sizing for those of us who just don't grok maths.

Somewhere in there, the best explanation for the whole business of RWD was from Mark Boulton. Instead of designing for a computer screen, an iphone, or even a printed page, designers should think in the opposite direction: from the content outwards. Start with the content, lay it out in relative terms (ems and %s), think of the whole as a fluid form originating from a single element. Design outwards from the logo, from a critical ad for your store, from a dynamically generated element like a blog post. Like all logical things, this makes perfect sense once you've heard it.

"Start designing from the content out" also makes sense in the context of "content first, then style." You can't style something that doesn't exist, and it's much more difficult to stuff your content into arbitrarily created elements. So step one is to create or define your content, step two is to style it in relative terms. A resume is also a prime place to avoid contentless content and to make sure that you are getting the right information to the user (your future employer). So to review, the most important things in design are content, content, content.

Whew, well that was sort of step one in the process. Coming up next should be editing the old resume into a more manageable sound bite, then designing a new layout before looking too closely at inspiration. That way I can get raw me onto the page before introducing outside forces.