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:
   color of Jerusalem limestone
Thursday, November 9 2006
With temperatures reaching up to nearly 70 degrees, this was the kind of November day I enjoy but never expect. Such days are regarded positively throughout the human species, no matter how its individuals prefer to spend their free time. Consequently, I've taken to wearing orange when taking the dogs on their morning walks in the forest. I've seen vehicles parked along the lower stretch of Dug Hill Road and can surmise that hunters are afoot, though they rarely have it in them to scale the formidable escarpment to reach the plateau where the Stick Trail and its brethren run.
Ever since the neighbor's dog Kate was trapped in a "bear trap," I've been nervous about our dogs stumbling into another that might still be out there. I've been more protective and attentive about whether or not the dogs are near me and become nervous when I haven't seen them in awhile. But it's perfectly normal for them to hang back and investigate interesting situations such as chipmunks hidden beneath stones or logs. Typically after such an absence Eleanor or (more likely) Sally will suddenly appear, breathing furiously from having galloped a half mile of trail. Her face will invariably be covered with dirt in such situations. Yesterday it was Eleanor's turn to pull this stunt, and the dirt plastered on her face was the creamy color of Jerusalem limestone. It stopped abruptly at her glistening ebony eyeballs.

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