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:
   socks and Crocs and Poison Ivy too
Tuesday, July 5 2011

Late this afternoon I drove out to Bearsville to collect another carload of wood from the downed trees at our friend Susan (the memoirist) house. Temperatures were in the mid-80s Fahrenheit, and, to fend off exposure to Poison Ivy, I was outfitted in overalls, socks, and Crocs. It didn't take long before I was drenched in sweat and weak from dehydration and exhaustion of blood sugar reserves.
At Gretchen's pleading ("They've had such a boring day!"), I'd brought the dogs, but that's always a mistake. It wasn't long before Sally had disappeared from sight, and when I finally found her, she was trying to find a way into Susan's house. She didn't want to walk through the five-foot tall weeds through which I'd driven the Subaru, so I had to carry her. Once in the car, though, she pretty much fell asleep and I could work in peace. As for Eleanor, instead of wandering off, she petitioned to also be allowed to sit in the car. (Sometimes when I'm doing something she finds dull, I'll look around and find that somehow she got into the car on her own, usually through the open hatchback.)

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