That's my book ranked one ABOVE Clive Davis's biography in the "Music Business" sales category on Amazon. I can't stop laughing.

I guess I can post again. A picture!

Today I spoke with a client at work. She's been with us for five years. In some businesses that's no big deal. In our industry, it's a sign of an unusually healthy relationship.

We built a website for her organization in 2009 and we've performed occasional updates ever since, slowly adapting it to be the site they really needed. Which is not quite the same thing as the site they initially wanted. Or the site we initially thought they needed. Or the site they needed last year.

This morning she called to invite us to propose a new design process and a rebuild of the site.

Given how complex their business logic is, it's entirely possible we'll wind up pursuing a "refresh" rather than a rebuild, to leverage the solid work we've already done. But it's gratifying to see customers coming back steadily, as they do in industries where reputation is everything. Because sooner or later, it always is.

In other news: One Post Wonder welcomed its first alpha testers last night. Thank you so much for the feedback. I'm looking forward to reading your posts. As opposed to your every-millisecond lunch status updates.

I tackled several One Post Wonder bugs tonight:

• Make visible whether a post is public or not so commenters know
• 24 hour rule simplified: you can post again at midnight (i.e. tomorrow)
• Lovely connecting lines to show comment threads. Seriously, these puppies are laser-guided
• Cleaned up the "add photo" feature in posts
• Ability to delete posts! Yeah that is kind of a biggie.

Looking forward to more feedback, and most of all, reading more wondrous, personal posts that have nothing to do with the plumbing of One Post Wonder. I'm striving to put that first in my own posts as well.

I shall leave you with an abundance of ducks.

Last month I bought a car for the first time- a car that I chose for myself. Having grown up in a "frugal" (crushingly cheap) household, and having been a broke graduate student well into my 30s, I have driven hand-me-down Toyotas since the day I qualified for my Learner's Permit.  I have a relatively anti-consumerist streak in me. If the car has wheels and a seat, it's good enough, right? Well...

Back when I was courting my husband he would often talk about his Porche 911. During the "sussing out" phase that kind of talk qualified as a red flag.  I thought he was trying to impress me with things- until I actually saw the car.  The 1980s 911 too was really just an engine with wheels and seats. That 911 is purely about the joy of driving for him. The state of the interior signals his lack of concern with prestige- the funky ripped up leather seats, the removed a/c unit that unloaded "extra" weight. You get the idea.

Two years ago yesterday I married the Porsche man. He didn't grow up in a "frugal" household.  His parents worked their asses off to move out of Bed-Stuy and into their own suburban raised ranch on Long Island.  They worked opposite shifts for years- his father as a court administrator and his mother as a nurse during nights so someone would always be home to care for my husband. Now retired, they enjoy what they have. The difference being that in my own "frugal" upbringing, the idea was you needed work for what you have (an adequate home, an adequate car, adequate clothing, and probably too much savings for a "rainy day") so you won't have to worry. But you still do worry- and, even in your rejection of materialism, a concern with squirreling away money for its own sake comes to dominate all aspects of life. 

By now I have been working as a college professor for quite a few years and have paid off some of the things that needed to be (still working on the student loans, unfortunately). Out of pure pride I announced to my husband a few months ago that I would drive my 1997 forest green Rav 4, which my father had passed on to me with 120,000 miles on it, until it rusted to bolts on the roadside- smell of long deceased dogs romping through saltwater be damned! He grinned and shook his head.

My husband was an only child.  His parents taught him to earn what he wanted in life, but they were also generous with him when it came to having things. Anyone remember the LaserDisk? He continues to be an expensive toy collector even as an adult (Hello vintage sail boat, BMW motorcycle, Airstream trailer, old friend 911, second hand M3 convertible, and beat up Land Rover). If it goes, has an engine, a sail, or wheels of any kind, he is likely on Craig's List looking for it. We are opposites.  He enjoys first and worries later.  I worry first and enjoy when it seems appropriate for whatever my present circumstances might be and only after significant and careful budget consideration.  He's an optimistic extrovert and I'm a realist/pessimist introvert- between the two of us we would be one relatively well-balanced human being. We have a good time together.

Last month, staring at some standard but hefty older car repairs, I was finally worn down. I picked out my own car for the first time at age 42 and I didn't choose it out of pure practicality. It took some psychological gymnastics to get over the guilt of that- Should I really have something that's more than just adequate?  Boy did I go way beyond adequate this time.  I bought a 2008 BMW 335XI coupe.  Is it a family car?  No. Can I haul compost in it? Not really.  My three dogs and husband can all fit inside though, so good enough.

I'm happy when I drive it! I have never had a car (and have rarely even driven a car) with such good design and spectacular engineering. When I drive it I'm comfortable and I feel in control!  When I commute I know I can pass safely (and with a PURR) on the manic Brooklyn Queens Expressway.  I have a cup holder that offers me a beverage at an appropriate height rather than the one that required rummaging through a front seat storage bin in order to rest my coffee cup. I have a navigation system that keeps me from fumbling with my phone to access a map.

I have come around to the idea that some things are expensive because they're well made. Driving is less full of mental clutter.  I am safer because I'm less distracted. I'm happy listening to music through excellent speakers and listening to the engine growl. I'm happy when my car sticks to a curve.  I love driving my new car- it's way beyond adequate.

My baloney has a first name.  It is Juan.

Because it's late and it's time to practice Snorin' Ryu...

I'm watching "Monster Hammerheads" on Shark Week. The narrator hasn't clarified whether hammerheads occasionally dine on humans, but these divers are seeking sharks in excess of 12 feet. At the moment, they're seeking one nicknamed Old Hitler - a gigantic shark who, according to legend, has terrorized the fish in Florida's waters since WWII.

How, you ask, do these divers attract sharks? Silly me - I thought the way to invite sharks to one's location involves dumping chum into the water. Nope. Passé and very 2013. These divers make chumsickles. I suppose they're like McDonalds' chicken mcnuggets - comprised of ground up bits that have no other food use. Yum. 

While these amazing, graceful creatures attract and fascinate me (hence my losing hours of my life one week each summer to the Discovery Channel), I remain quite grateful that my 4 1/2 yo's not a strong enough swimmer, yet, to request venturing out beyond the ocean's breakers!

This morning a friend announced her box spring wasn't gonna make it up the stairs. She was given two options: cut it in half or buy a split box spring.

I smiled because I've been there. Cutting a box spring in half sounds like a pain in the ass and a dodgy move; you can buy a split box spring from 1-800-MATTRESS and they work fine. Or get an IKEA bed with wooden slats; they don't require a box spring. That's just rowhouse life.

That reminded me of my longstanding wish for a regularly updated catalog of Stuff Rowhouse Owners Need. My dream catalog would include:

Flat-pack couches you can assemble in your "almost full height" finished basement

Split box springs

Split mattress "bridges"

Smaller ovens, stoves, sinks and fridges that are of high quality

Collapsible shopping carts

Walking shoes (because you're going to)

There is, or was, a Rowhouse Magazine, which eventually became a Wordpress. It was a worthy effort, but I'd like to see resources for ordinary rowhouse owners, rather than the occasional person who lives on Elfreth's Alley and needs to know about Restoration Hardware and $30,000 high-pressure air conditioning that won't violate their historic home status.

And... it's 2014. I could do this. Who's stopping me from doing this?

Me, dammit! At least until One Post Wonder is launched!