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:
   Eleanor's spider web
Monday, November 28 2011
I spent most of the day getting my fieldguide iPad App up to a quality that I could show it to people. It's still a long way from finished, but it's almost usable now.

Nancy came over in the evening and Gretchen, her, and I all carpooled to Woodstock to take advantage of the Monday buffet at the Garden Café, which this week was following a Mexican theme. We quickly decided that, at least for today, it was "Mexican Monday." (Back when a team of Hispanics lawn care professionals would swarm our across-the-steet neighbor's lawn every Monday, we referred to that day as "Mexican Monday," and then when they stated coming on Tuesdays we referred to that day as "Taco Tuesday," etc.) The food itself was nothing special: rice, refried beans, collard greens, and a root-vegetable soup that really should have contained beans. There weren't even any tortillas.

On the drive home a short way down Dug Hill Road, Nancy saw a deer on the side of the road and shouted a warning to Gretchen, who was driving. Gretchen slammed on the brakes and managed to avoid hitting the deer. But Eleanor, who likes to ride with her two hind paws on the back seat and her two front paws on the elbow rest between the front seats, was suddenly flung into the windshield, where a spider web crack appeared. For a few seconds Eleanor's entire body lay crammed into the prismlike space between the dashboard and the windshield, which, on a 2006 Honda Civic Hybrid, is raked back at a steep angle. I dragged her down onto my lap and inspected her head, which appeared to be uninjured. Though startled, Eleanor seemed to be okay, which was a huge relief after serving so dramatically as a canine missile. She rode the rest of the way home in my lap, which is something she only does when she is skeeved out by something (such as cans full of recycling rattling around in the back). We figured that deer are more skittish and reckless with regard to vehicles at this time of year, what with their having to constantly avoid gunfire in the forests.
For the rest of the evening, I referred to Eleanor exclusively as "Clunky Head," a name she earned years ago after nearly knocking one of my teeth loose.

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