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:
   a dog named Pooper
Thursday, February 6 2020
There was an icestorm happening this morning, and it was the excuse I used to come to work late, though conditions were never especially treacherous. I hung out with Gretchen in the living room in front of a roaring fire in the woodstove, working on my work-issued laptop until nearly 11:00am, when I finally headed off to work.

My favorite bathroom for going numero dos is off the breezeway between the two main buildings of the complex where I work. Since the complex is called "the Chocolate Factory," I'm tempted to make a sign as an art project which reads "Around the Corner, Chocolate's Made." As I was returning from that bathroom this afternoon, a soccer mom was dropping off her kid not at the pool but at the rock 'n' roll music school on the second floor. As she did so, her large poodle-style dog managed to roll down the window on the passenger side of the vehicle, jump out the window, and run up to me. He was a big dog, and I didn't know if he was about to rip my face off, so I just stood still. But he was just being friendly. His name was "Pooper," and the soccer mom was mortified.
Due to a last-minute database design discussion, I got home a little later than usual, though there was still enough light for me to run a firewood salvage foray to that white ash I'd been cutting just above the Chamomile crossing on the Stick Trail. I cut three big fat firewood-length section of trunk, but when I tried to get this load up on my back, the bottom of my backpack failed. There's a lower "jaw" that swings out to form a platform that I support with bungee cords, and it had been crimped in one place from the sort of violence that can come when carrying 150 pound loads The failure happened at the crimp in that jaw. Without the jaw providing support, the backpack was nowhere near as effective as it had been, and I was only able to carry one of the three pieces back to the house. It was so big that I split it into at least six woodstove-ready pieces.
This evening made a delicious vegetable soup containing spiral noodles. I would've gladly eaten three bowls of it, but I didn't want to be glutton and only had two, each jazzed-up with a drop of Dave's Insanity Sauce. I asked Gretchen why nobody had yet figured out a way to put soup this delicious into a can.
Later I tinkered with electronics, trying out a camera with a fish-eye lens on Raspberry Pi Zero W. I attached a BME280 temperature and weather sensor to this board in hopes of more sensor-graphing gratification, but for some reason the sensor kept giving me wildly wrong readings for those sensors, such as temperatures of 454.74 degrees celsius and pressures of -43.62 hectopascal.

On US 209 at about 11:00am this morning, just northeast of the summit between Route 28 and Sawkill Road. Click to enlarge.

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