I pause today to briefly reflect on the recent design upgrade I embarked on in December 2006. I had just purchased a license and installation of Movable Type, a blog publishing software that I had been quite impressed with. My goal: to integrate my blog into the existing site design in a comprehensive fashion.

I did not underestimate the amount of work or the number of times I "broke" my test site. I left plenty of room for testing and gave myself the grace for post-design evaluation and tweaking. Websites are, after all, less like paintings--completed, sealed, framed, and nailed to the wall with finality--and more like gardens--which must be pruned, tended, fertilized, and managed with continued attentiveness.

What I did fail to anticipate, however, was the way the problem of integrating my blog would engulf most of my headspace. I realized that I had made something of a mistake by trying to accomplish this redesign while on vacation for a family reunion. Switching gears between designing and socializing proved to require immense mental acrobatics for which I was not prepared.

Here is why: something about the way websites function makes them very difficult to put down when you're in the middle of them. Like a good mystery novel, the most satisfaction comes from the "whodunit"--figuring out all the minutae of making a site work smoothly. A website half-done is both nonfunctional and uninteresting. And with the intensely detail-oriented and organized work that is required, they require long stretches of rapt attention.

And even when brought to completion, websites always offer more work--maintenance and upgrades, compatibility improvements, style tweaks, and, of course, adding new content. Committing to maintain a website is similar to caring for a cat, dog, or even a child--they require attention and resources for as long as they are "live"... but at least you don't have to pay college tuition.

So here I am: committed to my website. It is by no means perfect, and therefore my work is never finished. I am, however, relieved to be out of the obsessive and time-sucking development/testing phase, and into the slow-paced and much more maintenance/improvement phase.

And next time I'll know to be prepared to devote extended intensive hours to development, preferably not while juggling 18 members of an extended family.

Lesson learned.