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:
   Bananagrams stay-dation
Saturday, September 28 2019
This morning conditions were perfect for coffee out on the east deck. Somehow we lucked out and there wasn't even any gunfire down at the bus turnaround.

A few days ago there'd been a stop work order filed on our repairs to the Downs Street brick mansion's porch, even though the work was simply replacing rotten wood. Gretchen inquired about this and learned that any work of any sort needs a permit, which seems patently absurd. Fortunately, most work happens in the back of a building, high on its roof, or inside. A front porch is the sort of thing that must be repaired publicly. Today Gretchen met our contractor in the Hurley Mountain Inn parking lot so Gretchen could give her a blank check for whatever fees need to be paid. Meanwhile I'd returned to my stone wall in the forest, where I continued adding buttressing structures on the north side of weak spots along its length. I also extended it a couple feet eastward. It ended the day about sixty five feet in length. So far there has been no stop work order filed. I worked shirtless so as to avoid soaking a teeshirt in sweat.
I finally managed to drain and extract the old roof-fed brownhouse cistern. When I looked it over, it didn't turn out to have leaks anywhere on its body. Evidently the leak that had caused me all this trouble was just related to the hole in the side where water enters, something I could've easily fixed with additional goop. The next cistern will be installed in such a way that I will easily be able to monitor the state of any holes drilled through its walls.

Normally Gretchen and I go out on Saturday nights, but since we'd gone out last night and Gretchen was in the middle of an ongoing The Handmaid's Tale marathon, and there lots of vegetables going bad in the house, we decided to stay in. At some point we played a rousing game of Bananagrams (from a set Gretchen had managed to buy in Woodstock), and I would've won had I not played the word "prisen" ("prise" is a word, and the "n" could've been part of the word "no" a short distance away).

Ramona the Dog with Gretchen and Celeste the Cat this morning on the east deck. Click to enlarge.

A view of the east deck situation after Gretchen had solved her crossword puzzles and moved on to her book. Clockwise from Gretchen: Neville the Dog, Charles the Cat, Celeste the Cat, and Ramona. Click to enlarge.

Monarch butterflies on hydrangea flowers in front of the house.

Monarch butterflies on hydrangea flowers in front of the house.

The stone wall, looking eastward along its southern face. Click to enlarge.

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