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:
   bus turnaround option
Sunday, January 24 2010
I've been retrieving a surprisingly large amount of wood from the jumble of downed trees next to the Stick Trail where it crosses the "mighty" Chamomile. Yesterday all the wood I'd cut up was from there and from some downed trees on the slope above. It hadn't taken me long to buck up two carts' worth, which was all convenient to the trail and thus easily carted home. For years I'd written off this wood as too old and too-long-exposed to the ground, but it turned out that all of it contained hearts of solid cured wood. Much of it was actually oak. If one is willing to burn long-ago-fallen trees, there is wood everywhere.
I managed to get all of this wood into the woodshed before a light precipitation began to fall. By nightfall a quasi-snow had turned to rain, but it was landing on objects that were still well below freezing and so began forming sheets of treacherous ice. I went out to check the road to see if Gretchen was going to have trouble driving back from the place where she'd parked her car before car-pooling to the city, and it seemed okay, but I nearly fell on my ass on the stone walkway and on the large sheet of ice that had formed over the past week in the driveway (evidently the driveway drainage system had become plugged, probably by ice; this had never happened before).
Later, though, Gretchen called me from the bottom of Dug Hill Road saying the Honda Civic couldn't find the purchase to climb the hill. She eventually parked it in the bus turn-around (a half mile away and just below the steepest grades) and walked up.
Still later, after several Town of Hurley trucks had gone through spreading sand, I hiked down and retrieved the car. I'd been suffering from low blood sugar, so as I walked, I ate from a bag of Stewart's brand corn chips (their version of a greasy Frito-style traditional American corn chip).

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