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:
   home fires burning
Friday, December 13 2013
Temperatures were still in the 20s in the mid-morning when I set out down the Stick Trail with one of the woodcarts to retrieve the firewood I'd cut up yesterday. The dogs were excited to go on another walk but were quickly disappointed by the dullness of standing in the snow watching me chuck huge blocks of wood down the slope (and of course they were standing exactly where the wood needed to be). My cart is good for moving enormous loads, but I'd neglected to bring a bungee cord, so pieces of wood tended to fall off it whenever I hit bumps. And some of those bumps were too big to advance past without first lightening the load. In the end, I was able to bring home what I would characterized as one and half loads, and I was able to carry up and split about half of that, or three-quarters of a load. By load, I mean a traditional large load from the way my cart was configured last year, when it was smaller and less robust.

This evening Sarah the Korean (who is not Korean) drove up from the City to spend the night. She's recovering from multiple rounds of chemotherapy and radiation to treat nascent breast cancer found in an armpit, and at this point her hair is short and helmet-like. It's growing in as a wavy salt-and-pepper which she thinks makes her look like a grandmother.
The plan was for Gretchen and Sarah to go to Woodstock to watch their local "school of rock" kids perform a night of Beatles covers, but Sarah was so late that they were only able to catch a part of that show before going to Joshua's for blood marys and then Catskill Mountain Pizza for a vegan pizza experience. Meanwhile I kept the home fires burning (an important job) while drinking my Friday night beverages and watching my Friday night television. This plot twist where Todd Hoffman's group gave up on gold and started mining Guyanan gravel for diamonds makes it impossible to continue my suspension of disbelief. And his invocations of the Lord have become so desperate and infuriating that all I can do now is mutter an atheist prayer for his complete failure. It's looking like my prayers are quickly being answered.

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