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:
   all kind of the same song
Friday, August 12 2022

location: rural Hurley Township, Ulster County, NY

Late this afternoon after a not-too-bad day in the remote workplace, Gretchen and I loaded up the dogs, a couple cannabis plants, and various foods we'd been preparing, and drove up to our cabin in the Adirondacks, most listening to an interview of Holland-Dozier-Holland the creative team who had written many of the famous Motown hits. I'm not a particular fan of the music of Motown, but I know all the famous songs. It occurred to me as I listened that they're all kind of the same song, with the possible exception of "Reach Out, I'll Be There," which is in a minor key.
Along the way, we realized we hadn't brought the Impossible burgers we'd been intending to bring, just in case we had a barbecue this weekend. So we stopped at the Johnstown Price Chopper to get those. While there, we got lots of other things, including three different packages of mushrooms (we might want to barbecue portobellos), spices, flatbread, lemons, lemonade, and hamburger buns, among other things.
When we got to the cabin, there were things to do to prepare it for our first overnight guests (arriving tomorrow), so there was no time for an evening visit to the lake. While Gretchen swept up, I piled up cardboard in the place in the yard where we burn it. We had a dinner most of tan-colored foods that had been occupying needed space in the freezer. This included Impossible-brand chicken nuggets, triangle-shaped samosas, and vegan egg rolls. Individually, they might've been good, but their flavors added up to such savory dissonance that I had to stop eating a bit sooner than expected. After dinner, we had a quick bonfire with all the cardboard I'd piled up. As the evening was rather cool, the heat thrown off by the fire felt good on our faces and bare legs.
In our rush to leave the house in Hurley, Gretchen had left some muffins she'd baked back in a freezer. Since we'd be needing something like muffins for our weekend guests, Gretchen quickly improvised a coffee cake, doubling the recipe because the only baking pans she had were so large. She also used spoiled oat milk, and wondered initially if that was going to ruin the cake. But no, when she tasted it, she found it delicious.


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