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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   Boxing Day snowpocalypse
Wednesday, December 26 2012
Yesterday Gretchen had outperformed me in gift giving, so today I thought I'd make it up by painting a tiny painting in acrylic. It was an detail of a photo taken of Ramona and me at the edge of Chase Lake in the Adirondacks, showing Ramona with her nose up in the air and her ears and tongue hanging down, looking at the photographer (Gretchen) behind her. It captures most of what one needs to know about Ramona. I put the tiny painting in a jar, wrapped it up in paper, and put it at Gretchen's computer workstation with a note saying it was a present in celebration of her father's birthday (who was born on Boxing Day, that is, the day after Christmas). Later I would tell Gretchen that I had forgotten to give it to her yesterday, which she thought was odd until she realized I was lying.


Ramona as painted today.


A similar painting of Eleanor I made eleven months ago.

Meanwhile Gretchen was across the river working as an organizer for an elderly art collector. She ended up staying there well after dark as snow began aggressively accumulating. (People were already calling it a "Snowpocalypse," but it wasn't anything unusual for this time of year.) Gretchen had heard the snow wouldn't begin until late, but it seems whoever had told her that was wrong, and she ended up crawling home at low speeds. She made it up Dug Hill Road, but only because a big truck had just gone through ahead of her and left a good set of tracks.


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