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:
   perfectly-sorted Esopus sand
Tuesday, May 17 2005
Today I went to the US-209 (east) side of the Fording Place ford to gather sand, which (as I've mentioned) is perfectly sorted, free of organic matter, and available in great piles. I loaded many hundreds of pounds of it into my truck while the dogs stood around not really knowing how to entertain themselves in a perfect place for an imaginative canine to have fun. So I took them for a little walk towards to the corn field where we occasionally steal corn in the late summer. Then I encouraged them to cross the Esopus, whose level was even more pathetic than it had been a few days ago.
There was a young couple at Fording Place while we were there and they were gathering something from the creek, but I couldn't tell what. Perhaps they were looking for valuables swept out of people's homes in the early April floods.

Back at the house, I mostly used the sand to fill in low spots in the lawn and spaces between clumps of sod. One low spot was as big as a cat litter box and now that it contains three inches of sand it will probably start serving as one.

This evening Gretchen and I played a game of Scrabble, the first we've played in months. I started out with good tiles and good luck and maintained a 20 point lead until I got stuck with four "O" tiles and a "W" that proved impossible to shake, particularly with the board looking the way it did, all jammed into the the lower righthand corner. Gretchen ended up beating me by more than forty points.

The scrabble board at the end of tonight's game.

My laboratory's antenna mast.

View of Sally and the bluestone walkway from the laboratory deck. The pathway off to the right goes to the farm road and is our usual route to our mailbox.

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