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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Like my brownhouse:
   chili lupper and chili-fries
Sunday, April 26 2020
I went on a couple walks with a different oximeter today, climbing steep escarpments both east and west of the Farm Road and seeing how low my blood oxygen went. This time, the levels never dropped below 95% (though my heart rate did go as high as 149 beats per minute). I suspect that time about a week ago when I got a reading of 79% blood oxygen, it was because I'd allowed my hands to get cold.
This afternoon while Gretchen was giving the dogs an unusually late walk, I decided to make a big pot of chili, mostly to use up some mushrooms that were becoming increasingly slimy in the refrigerator. That made for a tasty lupper meal of chili, shredded cabbage, stand & stuff taco shells. Later this evening, Gretchen baked the leftover P&G french fries in the over and we covered them in chili and some coleslaw she had made, a delicious combination that took full advantage of the reheated fries' dryness (fresh french fries tend to get a bit soggy when used to make chilifries). Of course, as we were setting up this meal, I couldn't help but sing bits of John Cougar Mellencamp's "Jack & Diane," which famously has a reference to sucking on chili dogs out behind a Tastee-Freeze. I have a number of vocal exaggerations and musical (as well as lyrical) flourishes I do when singing this and other earworm songs from my youth.


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