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:
   Rosendale crawl
Thursday, December 29 2005
A couple of women from Northampton Massachussetts (you know what that means) showed up today to buy our Toyota Prius. We took a loss on it, but after the tax credit that loss won't be so bad. They were delighted with it. I'd been the last one to drive the Prius and I'd also been the one with the job of vaccuuming up the dog hair and sponging up the dog prints. We'd treated the car as "nothing special" from the start, so it had been pretty well used and yet still not so far gone as to be impossible to restore. So now we're a two Honda Civic family. Our days of Toyota (Prius or otherwise) driving are (for the time being) over.

Today I extended the supply manifold of the boiler, allowing for the attachment of two more zones (I'd already extended the receiving manifold). I have a plan to eventually run a zone to Gretchen's library so she can go down there and hang out in the winter time without resorting to heating the entire basement slab, the single ponderous thermal mass that heats the entire basement. (As you know, I've been maintaining the temperature of this slab with solar heat, but it has been about ten degrees too cold for months.)

Tonight Gretchen and I went to Rosendale, where one of the little shoppes was having a going out of business party, complete with wine and a WASPy trace of food. One of our old New Paltz friends was there, and Gretchen eventually got in a huge argument with her about the ethics of merino wool. This friend thought animal rights activists were "fascists" for being so strict with their definition of cruelty. Gretchen, though, was on their side, saying that by any measure the flaying of skin (not just wool) from a live lamb is extremely painful.
We'd actually come to this party to meet up with another of our friends, and we ended up going on something of a Rosendale "crawl" with him, first to the Rosendale Cement Company and then to the Rosendale Café, where we were served by a waiter who had a diagonal blue slash tattooed across his face. That's hardcore, and if you don't think so, imagine him as a 76 year old man. I wondered what if any other places would hire a guy with such a flagrantly unconcealable body alteration.

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