Your leaking thatched hut during the restoration of a pre-Enlightenment state.


Hello, my name is Judas Gutenberg and this is my blaag (pronounced as you would the vomit noise "hyroop-bleuach").


decay & ruin
Biosphere II
dead malls
Irving housing

got that wrong

appropriate tech
Arduino μcontrollers
Backwoods Home
Fractal antenna

fun social media stuff

(nobody does!)

Like my brownhouse:
   forces from these jumps
Wednesday, January 5 2005
Snow fell throughout most of the day though the temperature never really dropped below freezing. So far this winter has yet to be anything worse than a prolonged March, with occasional days that wouldn't be out of place in May mixed with even fewer more typical of February. Seasons are a series of data points that cluster around some average, and what I'm saying is that this average has been warmer than, well, average.
I had a distinctly beer-flavored hangover today, the result of two Sam Adams followed by two Negra Modelos. It manifested as a headache in the morning, but I'd completely recovered by afternoon. I'm more familiar with the sort of hangovers that start out insignificant and gradually intensify throughout the day, usually manifesting primarily as psychological difficulties, so this came as something of a relief.
Nonetheless, what with the weather and my slowly-evaporating headache, I didn't accomplish all that much today. My main project was about as trivial as a project can be. I tightened all the joints on a little table upon which we feed the cats (so the dogs don't eat their food). Then I added little PVC braces between the table's legs and the wall so the table won't kick back when the cats jump from their feeding table to the dinner table. Over time the Newtonian forces from these jumps wreak havoc on the feeder table's joints, loosening them up and allowing the table to wiggle even more. The table's joint had been so loose and it had been wiggling so much in response to even modest cat movements that its water dish was never more than half full, the rest always having sloshed out onto the floor.

In other news, Pitunia is still staying with us, and she's proven herself a remarkably sweet and intelligent puppy. As an example of her intelligence, we managed to housebreak her without a single reprimand in less than twelve hours. Gretchen is determined to find her a home so she'll never have to go back to the shelter (and have to wonder what she could have possibly done to be sent back). We had a pretty hot candidate for a prospective Pitunia parent, but then that person freaked out (though not conclusively) upon learning that Pitunia might actually be a purebred Pit Bull. Oh, the Pit Bull lore that must be overcome! Their jaws lock and can't be released. They can seem nice for years and then one day you come home and your child is a hollowed-out husk. That sort of thing. If you want to see Pitunia in action, check out this goofy little site I made to help with the recruitment of potential parents.

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