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:
   pickle in the red sauce
Sunday, September 9 2012
Since being penned up in the first floor office for the recovery of her surgically-repaired knee, Ramona has become essentially a non-housebroken dog. We take her outside regularly so she'll piss and poop out there, but she almost never uses the opportunities. Instead she pisses on and poops on the floor near the futon where she sleeps. A large part of the problem is that her poops are very hard and dry and extremely painful for her to pass. So as she defecates, she screams and moans and twirls around at incredible speed, throwing the shit in various directions. Then for some reason she ends up reingesting a lot of it. Last night Ramona not only shat the futon, she emptied her bladder onto it as well. She doesn't piss often, but when she does it's an enormous amount. Back on Wednesday I'd spread out a plastic sheet on the carpet to keep it from becoming further urine-soaked, and today I inserted a plastic sheet inside the futon's cover. Between the constant cleaning and endless wrapping of things in plastic, this Ramona recuperation is proving to be a much bigger job than even the big job we expected it to be.
Gretchen called the vet and asked if perhaps the medications (Rimadyl and/or Acepromazine) were causing the constipation and bad bathroom habits, and they suggested that we take Ramona off all of the drugs for twelve hours. Interestingly, she didn't seem much more energetic even without her Acepromazine tranquilizers. And her shit, when it came, remained just as hard, painful, and centrifugally flung.
Deborah came over this afternoon to pay her respects to Sally and hang out with Ramona and Gretchen. She'd brought a large print out of a photo she'd taken of Sally that looked to date to about 2009. Meanwhile, I was nearby working on a glass cutting project. I was trying to cut two identically-sized panes so I could take a stab at making my own panel of insulated glass (for use in completing the greenhouse's cantilevered catform). I managed to cut one pane to the correct size, but the other broke chaotically while I was deepening the score with a diamond wheel. I have the worst luck with DIY glass projects; I should just accept my lot in life and buy all the glass I need pre-cut and pre-set. Things always turn out fine when I do it that way.
Later this evening Gretchen commanded me to make us dinner, so I made spaghetti with red sauce. The sauce contained a number of "secret" ingredients, including a hot pepper fresh from the garden, a trace amount of broccoli, and (most interesting of all), a finely-diced pickle.

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