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:
   pack it out
Friday, July 2 2010
I had a phone meeting scheduled for 2:30pm, but that was when Penny and David arrived a half hour early for a 3pm appointment we'd arranged so she could hand off the graphics for a site redesign of the site he runs (for which I have taken on the duties of web guy). This unexpected schedule clash is the reason I rarely schedule more than one thing (meetings, visits, etc.) per day, as my multitask-averse mind begins to overload as one event seems in danger of sprawling into the next.
Penny actually needed to do some last-minute graphic cutting, so she sat in a chaise lounge out in the yard with her enormous Mac laptop open, doing precisely that. Their little son Milo was diaperless for awhile and at some point nature called in a way that made the grass into something of a biohazard. Normally people assume they can throw their kids' dirty diapers (and, should they present themselves, loose feces gathered from the lawn using abundant paper napkins) into the trash cans of their friends and it's no big deal. But we don't generate much trash in our household and what little we do tends to take the form of clean plastic packaging (a part of the trash stream that is very difficult to avoid). So it tends to linger for weeks in a can adjacent to our kitchen. The thought of human feces being in there for that amount of time makes me and Gretchen throw up a little in each others' mouths. So we do what we can to enforce a policy of "pack it in, pack it out" with regard to diapers.
This evening our friend Sarah the Korean (who, unlike Milo, is not Korean) showed up to spend the night. Gretchen had prepared another feast to be eaten out on the east deck, this one having something of a southern soul food theme. There were collard greens from the CSA, green beans, breaded tempeh steaks served with a kind of delicious tartar sauce, and a peach cobbler. Sarah was suffering from a condition that was either poison ivy or the shingles, and she'd been given a heavy prescription of Prednisone (because, when you're a doctor, there's nothing that can't be fixed given enough Prednisone).

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