I've been building for the web since around 2000, back when table layouts were a legitimate architectural choice and browser compatibility meant hoping Netscape didn't do something unexpected. Frameworks rise and fall. Best practices get overturned. What stays constant is the problem: you have information, you have a person who needs it, and your job is to close that gap as cleanly as possible.
I work primarily in the interface layer. It's where technical decisions meet human behavior, where a choice about layout or loading sequence can make something genuinely useful or quietly frustrating. Right now that means large-scale government interfaces at Peraton. Accessibility, performance, and resilience aren't optional on that work. They're the job.
I start every project by asking what it's actually trying to accomplish, then finding the simplest version that solves that problem. Not minimal in an aesthetic sense. Minimal in the sense of removing anything that doesn't earn its place. I've seen enough overengineered systems collapse under their own weight to know that complexity is always a cost, even when it feels like capability.
Outside of client work, I build and maintain open-source tools for front-end developers. Most of them started as something I needed, couldn't find, and decided to make. They're small, focused, and dependency-light.
When I'm not at a screen, I'm usually somewhere in Ocala with a camera and no particular destination. Florida has spring-fed rivers, old-growth flatwoods, and back roads that don't show up on most maps. I bring a Lumix FZ80D and try to find things I wasn't looking for.
When I'm indoors and not writing code, I'm usually inside a game world doing roughly the same thing. Currently a Hunter named Plasticspoon in Lord of the Rings Online, which should tell you something about how I approach both character naming and commitment to a bit.
I write about CSS, front-end tools, and the occasional hiking trail. Mostly things I figured out and thought were worth writing down.