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Now that I use AI regularly to help write code and complete tasks, I find myself in a position where I’m not learning as much as I used to. That feels a bit crummy. Fairly often, Claude writes code I don’t fully understand. For example: I know enough TypeScript to be dangerous, but I’m definitely not an expert. Recently I had Claude take some typing I thought was overcomplicated and drastically simplify it. The new version was clearly better — I just couldn’t tell you why. So I asked Claude to explain it in simple terms. Sure enough, it did. I guess that’s a silver lining to using AI: it can at least explain why it did what it did. A coworker mentioned he has Claude write one-off explanations with examples whenever this happens, and I liked that idea. So I built a skill around it. The skill looks at my uncommitted code, breaks it down, and writes a short blog article for me to read. I’m a fan of Josh Comeau’s blog and the way he uses interactive examples to teach a concept, so I made that part of the skill too — Claude generates interactive examples alongside the explanation, then packages everything up in a small Vite environment. The first iteration was expensive to run. At least 3 minutes, and roughly 10K tokens. I’m fine burning tokens, but I’m also thrifty 😬. The second iteration kept the Vite environment and styles already wired up, so Claude only had to write the article and the examples. That brought it down to about a minute and 7K tokens. Better — though I’d still like to get the token usage lower. The blog format is great, but it’s a lot of work (for Claude) to generate all of this just to delete it when I’m done reading. It’d be nice to have these articles persist somewhere I could revisit later, or share with other people. That brought me to my current iteration. It’s an Astro project that lives on GitHub. The skill works roughly the same way — review uncommitted code, generate a post complete with interactive examples — but now it publishes to a TIL subdomain where I can read the articles at my leisure or pass them along. It’s all vibe coded, and that feels appropriate. I’m up front about it on the site itself: Things Claude changed that I didn’t understand — explained… by Claude. I’ll probably keep tinkering to bring the token usage down further, but it was a fun project to put together, and I’m happy to let Claude teach me what it’s doing.
This is an updated list of what I’m using in 2026. I’m only sharing what’s changed since last year’s list. Applications Chrome — Chrome was on my list last year, but I’m mentioning it again because I actually used Brave for most of 2025. I like Brave, and honestly I can’t even remember why I switched back to Chrome 🤷🏻. ChatGPT — I hate that I’m listing AI tools, but if I’m going to be transparent, it has to be here. I use it a bit for code, but mostly for rewording messages or rubber-ducking ideas. Claude Code — I wrote about my thoughts and reluctance to embrace AI for coding. My company pays for it, so I use it. Endel — I’m neurodiverse and have been trying to be more intentional about using tools that help me stay focused. Endel is super cool and has a lot of genuinely helpful features. Hyper — I was previously using iTerm2, but switched to Hyper mostly because it feels prettier. That’s probably a dumb reason since I could have customized iTerm2, but I installed Hyper on my new machine and never felt the need to switch back. Retcon — My team is pretty opinionated about Git history, and rewriting history via the command line or VS Code started to feel tedious. Several coworkers use LazyGit, but I didn’t want another terminal-based tool. Retcon does exactly what it promises and lets me handle more advanced Git workflows without having to be a Git super-nerd. Notion — I was using Bear for notes, but didn’t feel like I was getting enough value out of paying for it. That’s not a knock against Bear—it’s a great product. Notion’s free plan works just fine for me. I also tried Obsidian this year and liked it, but parts of it felt quirky. It also seemed like a bigger time investment to make it feel as polished as Notion or Bear. VS Code — I tried Zed for a bit, and there are things I really like about it. That said, I ran into a few weird and buggy behaviors that I just couldn’t get past. Equipment I got a 2025 M4 MacBook Pro when I started my new job this year. It’s more than powerful enough for anything I need to do.
One of the biggest challenges I’ve faced as a web designer is how often people expect a website for next to nothing. Somewhere along the way, the perception formed that a website is a commodity—quick, cheap, and interchangeable. So when someone asks what I charge (for a very basic marketing site), I usually reply, “That’ll cost around $5,000.” That number isn’t a gimmick—it’s a filter. It immediately reveals who understands the craft behind the screen, who values quality, and who’s serious about investing in their own business. It separates those looking for something fast and inexpensive from those seeking something purposeful and crafted. It used to frustrate me when people balked at the cost. Now? I see it as a helpful sorting mechanism. It shows me who I actually want to work with. The Cost of “Cheap” There’s no shortage of DIY website builders promising professional results at a low price. And honestly—sometimes that’s fine. If you just need something quick and functional, a template might be all you need. But a boutique website is something entirely different. When you hire me, you’re not buying convenience—you’re investing in craft. A boutique site is designed and engineered specifically for you. It’s not a template dressed up with new colors. It’s built intentionally, shaped around your goals, your audience, your brand’s personality, and the experience you want people to have. And cheap solutions often come with hidden costs: lost conversions poor usability and performance accessibility issues a generic, forgettable brand presence The value of a bespoke website isn’t just in what it does. It’s in how it’s made—and what it communicates about you. Why Bespoke Work Matters When I build a custom website, it’s not just about aesthetics. It’s about alignment—making sure every part of the experience supports your story, your content, and your clients’ needs. Every choice—typography, layout, semantics, performance—is intentional. Anyone can make a website that looks good. I handcraft websites that feel right and function beautifully. As a design engineer, I don’t hand off a static mockup and hope the final result captures the original intent. I design with the intent to build, carrying the project from concept to code so the final experience is cohesive, thoughtful, and true to the vision. That’s what boutique design is: every pixel and every line of code has purpose. The Bottom Line If you only need a website, you don’t need me. But if you want a boutique digital experience—something that reflects your values, your vision, and your commitment to quality—then I’m the right fit. You’re not paying for a website. You’re paying for craftsmanship, collaboration, and care. And while not everyone values that, the right clients do. My pricing isn’t just a number—it’s a filter that helps me focus on the people who appreciate the work, the craft, and the impact it can create.
When I first got into hand-lettering, I had a hard time finding people who shared their full process—especially the digitizing phase. So here’s a look at how I typically work. Everyone’s process is different, and a lot depends on your style and how you plan to present the piece. For me, since I don’t have the steadiest hand, I tend to embrace rough, scrappy, distressed looks. Most of my work ends up digital anyway, so mistakes can be fixed later. Here’s a short process video I made a while back. Thumbnails & Sketching Start with quick thumbnail ideas on scrap paper. Refine the chosen direction with a pencil on Bristol Paper. If possible, I use a drawing pencil (softer, lighter lead makes cleanup easier). After inking, I clean up with an art gum eraser. Inking My go-tos are Microns in different thicknesses. In the video I sharedI used a .08 for outlines and Graphic 1 for filling letters. I used a Gelly Roll 10 to add cut-outs, create depth, and fix small mistakes 😬. Digitizing I scan the inked artwork using Scanner Pro on iOS. Clean up in Pixelmator Pro. Add textures for distress and wear (I’ve collected a bunch of texture packs over the years). Where I’ve Used This This is basically the same process I followed for my State Motto series, and most of my other lettering projects. Don’t be afraid to lean into your natural tendencies (like a scrappier style if your hand isn’t steady) and use the digital phase to enhance or correct. Trial and error is a huge part of it.
Does anyone else hate the term vibe coding? I’ve been pretty resistant to incorporating AI directly into my development workflow. I use it all the time to clean up emails, Slack messages, and blog posts (including this one). It’s helped me plan vacations, write my cover letter for Planning Center, and even gain insights from journaling. But coding? That felt like crossing a line. At first, I confined AI to repetitive tasks—formatting long word lists into arrays, deciphering cryptic console errors, or exploring how to integrate Vite into a Rails codebase still using Sprockets. All helpful, but I steered clear of anything that touched “real” engineering. Still, AI isn’t going anywhere. And as much as I hate admitting how much I rely on it, it genuinely makes my life easier. So I gave vibe coding a shot. Spoiler: I’m sold—with a few caveats. Vibe Coding an Alfred Workflow I’d played with basic Alfred workflows before, using the built-in UI or tools like Alfy. But I had an idea for something more complex—and neither the time nor the motivation to learn how to build it from scratch. The Problem At Planning Center, our design system has 300+ tokens (and counting). To grab one, I’d open our Storybook instance, scroll to the search bar, type in a few characters, click to copy, then return to my editor to paste it. Repeat that a few dozen times a day, and the friction starts to add up. The Solution An Alfred workflow that lets me search tokens via fuzzy matching, press Enter to copy, and paste directly—eliminating multiple steps and speeding up my flow. Using Claude Code I’ve tried ChatGPT and GitHub Copilot. They both work well (though I find Copilot’s integration with VS Code a bit invasive). I’m not ready to pay out of pocket, so I started using Claude Code through Planning Center’s access. Setup took less than 10 minutes. Anthropic’s documentation is clear, and their tips on effective usage are actually helpful. Building the Workflow with Claude Code I kicked things off with a prompt: I want an Alfred extension where I can enter “tt” followed by characters, and tokens from URL redacted will be shown using fuzzy search. Claude generated a Python script… that didn’t work. It produced a workflow Alfred couldn’t import. So I responded with: The Alfred extension fails to import. Claude replied something like, “You’re right, let me fix that,” and, impressively, it did. After about three hours of iterative prompts and debugging, I had a fully functional Alfred workflow that: Stores design tokens as a JSON database Caches data locally Refreshes if unused for over an hour Fuzzy-finds tokens on input Displays color swatches for color-based tokens I also used Claude to: Generate 100+ color swatches (since Alfred can’t use data URIs) Write a Bash script that builds the workflow with semantic versioning I don’t know much Python, but I know enough to skim the output and feel confident in the structure. And because this was a small, siloed project, I wasn’t concerned about maintainability or codebase conventions. The Cost Aside from the monthly AI access fee, the entire three-hour build process cost around $10 in usage tokens. That’s ~$3.33/hour—far below the value of my time. And now, every use of the workflow saves me 10+ seconds. That adds up quickly. If I’d tried to build this from scratch, it easily could’ve taken 10+ hours and been half as effective. That’s not even accounting for generating the color swatch images. I did spend about an hour trying to get Claude to scrape the tokens directly from the design system site, but that turned out to be unreliable. Still, the final solution works and required zero extra effort from the rest of my team. The Pros and Cons of AI in the Workflow Pros Efficiency Boost: Great at handling menial but necessary tasks—JSON formatting, token lookups, error decoding, etc. Rapid Prototyping: I built a working Alfred workflow in a single evening. Even if it were only a prototype, it would’ve been valuable. Creative Leverage: Designers and PMs can use AI to sketch out ideas and flows, helping engineers jump into development faster. Cons Skill Stagnation: Over-reliance on AI could erode problem-solving ability or deeper understanding of frameworks and languages. Job Displacement: AI is replacing some roles. At Planning Center, leadership has been clear AI won’t replace people—only support them. But the broader industry picture is less certain. Environmental Cost: Running large AI models consumes a lot of energy. Price Tag: Even if it saves time, AI access and usage can get expensive—especially if you’re footing the bill. So Why Do I Still Feel Icky? It took me a while to name the feeling, but I got there: I’m grieving the loss of what it means to be an engineer. I’ve spent over 20 years solving problems, building UIs, and turning ideas into code. I’ve always taken pride in being able to take a design and bring it to life. But now, what it means to be an engineer is changing—and that’s uncomfortable. I don’t want to become just a prompt wrangler. But I also don’t want to be the person who gets left behind because they refused to adapt. The logic is clear: why pay one engineer for 10 hours of work when another can produce the same result in two with AI? Finding the Sweet Spot I think the answer lies somewhere in the middle. Engineers should still understand their craft—be able to reason through problems, write maintainable code, and build features from scratch when needed. But AI should be a tool we use intentionally to reduce toil and accelerate progress. We don’t call it cheating when someone uses code completion. Why should this be any different?
More in programming
Reading my recent computing retrospective, I realised there was a big section missing: the people in my life that made an impact and helped shape my career. Outside my immediate family, one person made an outsized contribution, and I’m fairly certain that without his influence my life would have taken a very different path. The fact that I’m still here in 2026, still writing code and being fortunate enough to have a career in something I love is testament to him. So I’d like to take a few moments to talk about my old secondary school teacher, George Dryden. Denied Back in 1995, I had a problem. I knew I wanted to study computing at university and build a career out of my passion, but there was a snag. For those unfamiliar with the UK schooling system, when you’re 15-16 you take a set of GCSE exams in a broad range of subjects. After that, you pick around 3 subjects to really focus on over a period of 2 years. These are called A Levels, and they are a big step up and are meant to prepare you for a degree-level course at university. Admission to university is also governed by these results - if you want to study computing, you’re going to need a computing A-Level, and most universities will only accept you (or “make an offer”) if you achieve a certain grade. And whilst I had taken computing at a GCSE level, my school did not offer a computing A-Level course. I instead had to settle on “Design & Technology”, which just didn’t inspire me. Instead of working on my portfolio and projects, I spent most of my time daydreaming and writing code on the Acorn Archimedes computers that were the staple of every 90s UK school. No disrespect to the teachers - they were all awesome - but it just wasn’t for me. I was miserable, and by the end of my first year, I was well on my way to failing outright with my entire future plans seemingly going up in smoke. Someone noticed That’s when George stepped in. He’d taught me computing right the way through my GCSEs, and with no A-Level course on offer, that was officially where his involvement was supposed to have ended. It didn’t. He had noticed my constant presence in the computing labs - before and after school, during lunch breaks, free “study” periods - working on some little pet project or digging into RISC OS internals. I remember him as warm, with a wicked, dry sense of humour, and a refreshingly spiky attitude to authority - I always got the sense he’d worked out for himself which rules were worth taking seriously and which ones weren’t. And he always had time for me. I spent years pestering him with questions that had nothing to do with anything on the syllabus, and he’d always find a way to answer them that actually made sense. He was just as supportive of my odd little obsessions. At one point I’d got deep into the BBS scene, which I thought was the coolest thing ever, and decided what the school really needed was an internal BBS running on its own network. So I wrote one. It was deeply cringeworthy, obviously - but George helped me put posters up around the school advertising it, and even gave it a mention in assembly one morning. I think about five people in total ever checked it out. It didn’t matter: a teacher had stood up in front of the entire school and treated my weird little project like it was worth something, and that was a hugely validating moment for me. Off the books He recognised the passion, and eventually he made a suggestion: What if I quit the Design and Technology course, and instead attempt the A-level course myself? Personally, I also suspect he was enjoying himself. There was some internal school politics behind why computing wasn’t offered at A-Level in the first place - I never knew the details - and I think the prospect of one of his students simply going out and getting the qualification anyway appealed to him on two separate levels. It would get me where I wanted to go, and it would wind up exactly the right people. It wouldn’t be easy, he warned. The school would be against it, plus it was a two-year course which I’d have to cram into one year. I’d have to do it all myself - studying, lesson planning, coursework - he couldn’t help me in an official capacity, but he said he’d advocate for me and help where he could. If I had assignments, he’d send them off to be graded and would give feedback in his own time. He’d enter me in for the exams and also gave me a set of keys to the computer lab so I could use it whenever I needed. It was the first time anybody outside my own family had really shown faith in my abilities and encouraged me to take a stand. It was a pivotal moment for me - I realised if I wanted something badly enough I would have to fight for it, but I could still make it happen. I didn’t have to take “NO” for an answer - a lesson I think I picked up from watching him as much as from anything he ever actually said to me. After a few weeks of dithering, I took the jump. I remember a few awkward meetings with the school administration but thanks to his behind-the-scenes work, I was soon following my dream. An intense year And yes, it was bloody hard work. I had to condense an entire two year course into under a year, be disciplined enough to produce my own study plan, and be critical enough of my own shortcomings that I could focus my study where it was needed. I pretty much lived and breathed it for months straight and was more-or-less a permanent fixture in the labs or school library poring over my course books. I’d make lists of questions and chat to George over lunch, and he’d provide guidance and encouragement. It was a lonely way to learn with no classmates to compare notes with, no lessons to turn up to, and right up until the end I had no real idea whether any of it was good enough - but bit by bit, it started to feel like something I could actually pull off. And sure enough, in the late spring of 1996, I sat down in an exam hall with my fellow students, the only one with an A-Level computing question paper in front of me. The final exam went by in a blur - I can only remember a few of the questions now (and a peculiar obsession with the Pascal language) - but I do remember the euphoria as the invigilator called “time’s up, pens down, close your papers NOW”. I had done it. A few nerve-wracking months later, my Mum drove me into school to pick up my results. I ripped open the envelope and saw it - I’d passed with an A grade! I literally ran up the stairs to George’s office next to the computing labs to thank him personally. I’d taken my camera into school to take a few last photos for memory’s sake and snapped this photo of him before I walked out the school gates for the last time: A different path Because of him, I managed to get into my university of choice, studying computing with a focus on networks. Because of that, I landed my first job working as a “webmaster”, and my career since has been one of the highlights of my life. All these years later, it’s a real privilege to be able to get up each morning and actively look forward to working in an industry I love. Without George stepping up for me and encouraging me to believe in myself, none of that would have happened. I wouldn’t have had the career I have, and I wouldn’t be where I am now. I met my wife when we both worked at a software company - she sat at the desk behind me - so even my home and family life can be traced back to that spring of 1996. And the A-Level itself was only half of what I took away from that year. The qualification opened the door to university, but the lesson that came with it was every bit as important: that a “no” isn’t always the end of it, and that sometimes the answer can be argued with. I’m so proud of what I managed to achieve all those years ago, and even more thankful to have had someone like George in my life to put me on the right track. Mr. Dryden I did see him again after I left. He drank in one of my local pubs - a pub I’d been going to for a good while before I was technically old enough to be in it - and I’d say hello if I spotted him in there, mostly in the months before I moved away to university. After that it was only a handful of times. For years I’d find myself scanning the room whenever I was back home and in for a pint, half expecting him to be at the bar. At some point I stopped seeing him altogether and eventually moved across the country. The trouble was I never really knew how to talk to him outside of school. He was always Mr. Dryden, or just “Sir”, I don’t think I ever once called him George to his face! I was (and still am if I’m honest) fairly socially awkward, and I never worked out how to phrase the thing I actually wanted to say: that he had changed the entire direction of my life, and I wasn’t sure he knew it. So instead I’d say hello, and ask how he was, talk about nothing much, and go back to my friends. Epilogue Sadly, 3 years ago now, I opened the latest issue of my old school alumni newsletter to read that he’d passed away. The photo at the start of this article was taken from his obituary article and I read that he’d had a long illness and had suffered from dementia at the end. I did write to him years ago by email - I don’t know if he ever got it, or was in any capacity to understand what he’d done for me, but I hope so. There’s an old saying by one of my favourite authors (Terry Pratchett) that “no one is finally dead until the ripples they cause in the world die away”. In one of his books, a character keeps the memory of his son alive by passing his name along a series of telegraph towers. It’s in that spirit that I’m writing this post - I debated it for many years as it’s very personal to me and I also have no contact with any of George’s family so I have no idea what they would make of it all. But even though it’s 30+ years ago now, I will never forget him or what he did for me - and at least now, if someone searches his name it’ll be recorded here for as long as I’m alive and running this site. Thank you, Sir. George Dryden 1942-2023
Let’s step inside the kernel and understand how it implements copy-on-write and what are its implications for the performance of user-space systems
Yesterday, I received this email as a response to You Can't Vibe Code Love. It's such a remarkable and powerful statement that I asked permission to share it here, in its entirety, with personal information redacted: Hey Jeff, Hope you and your family are doing well.
A frustrated Reddit post about being a condom between an AI and production made the rounds in our team. Here is why I think the opposite is true and what it means for how we review code, plan work and think.
And here we are three years after I wrote about the Google Pixel Fold being announced, followed now with the announcement of the iPhone Duo...(I have questions about the naming by the way). Four years ago I was talking about web primitives in the platform for the Surface Duo. My how time flies. There are CSS media features, a Viewport Segments API, a Device Posture API but Chromium based browsers are the only ones currently supporting these things. I haven't been able to find any signal yet on whether Safari will support these things in the web platform as the developer docs focus on application development. If you're interested in trying out the platform features, you can emulate the Surface Duo and Galaxy Z Fold in the developer tools. And if you're thinking, do I really have to have my website adapt to two screens? The answer is no. Adding a design to an application or dual screen makes sense if you have an experience that has two simulataneous contexts that are useful e.g. a list of email messages/inbox on one screen, an open message, email thread or email composer on the other. Here's one of my talks from 2022 if you're interested in learning more about what's available in the browser for dual screen/foldable devices. Happy building :)
