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:
   September evening cardboard fire
Saturday, September 12 2020
Out on the east deck, it was a little cool for Saturday morning coffee, but it wasn't cooler than a typical Adirondack summer morning. The panagram in the New York Time Spelling Been was "locomotion" (the center letter being "i"), and this combination was slow to give up words; for example, I didn't see "omit" until this evening.
I helped Gretchen remove the bandage from her knee gash, and was alarmed to see it wasn't healing too well. The skin on either side of the cut still hadn't knitted together in the middle of the gash, and the skin still pulled away from the tissue beneath. Gretchen and I decided we should reglue it sparing using dots of glue and then not apply antibiotic salve or tape. She also decided not to move much today, restricting her activities to reading and teevee watching. This meant I took the dogs for their morning walk. There were a lot of possibly-edible boletes and I wished I brought a plastic bag.

I undertook another long-procrastinated household chore today: creating two power outlets on the laboratory's one collar tie and associated oak pillars (which are there to support the solar deck on the roof above). I needed one for the overhead fan and one for the laboratory's printer (which is on a movable arm attached to the west pillar). But then it turned out that the knock-out holes in the metal outlet boxes I wanted to use (plastic would've looked shitty in such a surface-mount application) were too big for the romex connectors I had on hand. So I drove into Uptown to get some supplies, which also included a new deep-jam strike plate for the door between the laundry room and the east deck.

There was a fair amount of shooting down at the bus turnaround, and we didn't do anything about it. Toward the end of a late-afternoon bath, a shooter down there was using either a fully-automatic weapon or a bump stock, making a hell of a racket. People who talk about "gun rights" seem to think we should just accept such environmental pollution as the price of living in a country full of selfish people.

The house was so cool this evening that I added a log (at Gretchen's request) to the usual September evening cardboard fire.

Meanwhile Powerful spent much of the day with Ray, Nancy, and Sarah the Vegan up in Hudson.

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