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").



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Like my brownhouse:
   14th Street Trader Joe's errand
Sunday, March 6 2011
It was a warmish rainy day and I it mostly to myself, but one can't take alone time for granted when Ray has bored houseguests visiting him down in Old Hurley. At some point Mark showed up randomly carrying two Yuenglings. He had one in the chamber to drop in my brownhouse, so I said sure, just don't slip and fall on the ice on the way around the north side of the house. This was his second use of the brownhouse and puts him about equal with Gretchen for people who have used it the second most number of times. I'm the only one who uses it regularly, though many have offered enthusiastic support.
Later I gave Mark a tour of the greenhouse, which he hadn't seen since I installed the wooden floor deck over the floor cistern in its eastern half.
Gretchen came back from the Manhattan this evening with a car full of groceries and wine she'd bought at the new Trader Joe's on 14th Street. Buying groceries at such an urban location isn't anywhere near as easy as doing it out in a Maryland strip mall. There'd been no parking lot and she'd actually had to make two trips to get all the groceries she wanted.
We made dinner together, a rice spaghetti with tempeh and mushroom marinara sauce. We also uncorked one of the $3 bottles of red wine Gretchen had bought and found it as good as any. (For the most part, high prices on wine have nothing to do with its drinkability.)


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