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:
   if you have to tell your dog to do anything more than once
Wednesday, March 6 2019
It being a Wednesday, I took Ramona to work with me. This morning when I went to fetch her from the bed, all I had to give her was the subtlest of gestures and she immediately knew exactly what I meant. I didn't want to make a big fuss about rousting Ramona out out bed because I didn't want to excite Neville and give him a case of the FOMOs. Dogs are much better listeners than we generally think, and this is the reason that if you have to tell your dog to do anything more than once (admittedly, I do this all the time), you're doing it wrong.
Here we are, nearly a week into March, and the weather since getting back from Costa Rica has been more like late January. Today there was a wind on top of the chill, making the outdoors a decidedly unpleasant place to linger. Ramona didn't even want her third walk of the day, though this might've had more to do with a rawhide bone she didn't want to abandon (even temporarily) in the office. With the larger rawhide bones, she tends to just hang out with them as long as there are no immediate threats of someone else taking it from her. She then takes it on the car ride back to Hurley and chews it up before Neville gets home from the bookstore. Ramona isn't much of a guarder, but when she's working on a rawhide bone, she most definitely doesn't want, say, Diane the Cat to come up and rub against her like she normally would.

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