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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Saturday, March 15 2014
Somehow drinking a french press of decaf has become a ritual on our Saturday mornings. I don't know how, but it's about as enjoyable as regular coffee, although I have to remember to drink a cup of black tea or I'll start getting a headache.
After Gretchen headed off to a shift at the bookstore in Woodstock, I needed to make a couple presents for March birthday girls Nancy and Deborah. For Deborah, the idea was to make a little container similar to a prescription bottle but made from copper. On discovering that an American quarter has precisely the same diameter as a 3/4 copper coupling, I used one as a cap, soldering it to the end of the coupling. For the other side, I made a stopper using a quarter inch long piece of 3/4 inch copper pipe solder into the center of another quarter. Once I had it buffed into a shiny little cork-sized object, it was a spectacular thing of beauty. Not bad for about ten minutes' worth of work. Interestingly, the quarters I'd used in place of standard copper fittings were actually less expensive than the caps they replaced (which usually cost at about 50 cents).
Since Nancy also needed a present and I was also giving her 1.5 litre bottle of Pinot Grigio, I made a second little copper container, though instead of including a stopper, I shoved a cork into it thick-end first, thereby making it into a fancy copper wine cork, "the most useless thing I've ever made out of copper."
Meanwhile the day had turned glorious and springlike, with temperatures into the 50s and widespread melting, though not all that much sun. The treacherous ice waterfall at the top of the steps down to the greenhouse didn't melt much today, so I stomped on it until I was able to break pieces off. Astoundingly, the ice was as much as an inch and a half thick on those steps.
Sarah the Vegan picked me up a little before seven, and then we picked up Nancy in Old Hurley. Our destination for tonight's dual birthday meal was, not surprsingly, the India Garden on Albany Avenue, and that was where we met up with Gretchen and Deborah. We didn't order any particular level of spiciness, and so when it came out the Indian food was a little bland while the two Thai dishes were fairly spicy (indicating, perhaps, two different cooks back in the kitchen). As had been the case the last time we'd eaten here, there was only one overworked waiter/Maître d' in the dining room, and his philosophy was to never do anything unless waved over. Gretchen was aware of this one flaw in the India Garden protocol and kept trying to wave over our waiter, something that seemed to embarrass Deborah. She, like Mark had been two weeks ago, seemed happy with a long leisurely meal.
Back at the house, Gretchen and I watched one and a half episodes of True Detective. I would have only watched one episode, but after that first one, Gretchen and I were tangled in the blankets on the couch beneath Ramona the dog.


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