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

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Arduino μcontrollers
Backwoods Home
Fractal antenna

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(nobody does!)

Like my brownhouse:
   fastidiousness when it comes to avoiding the coronavirus
Saturday, July 18 2020
We were having Saturday morning coffee out on the east deck when Nancy and Jack the Dog arrived. I quickly explained the rules for the New York Times Spelling Bee to Nancy (at least for the offline version we play), and it wasn't long before she'd figured out the panagram: "dolphin."
We've been living in this house long enough for me to demolish projects I'd helped build here in the past. So, in the early afternoon, I began the work of removing tile from above the upstairs tub on its drain end. I worked slowly and carefully so as to preserve as much of this tile as possible. In so doing, it took about three hours to remove three and a half piece of tile, as well as the underlying wonderboard (since I would also be reconfiguring the plumbing). I could tell the work was going a little slow for Gretchen, who has no idea how long any sort of work should take. And when I pointed out the disappointment I sensed, she pivoted right back to her initial idea of having professionals come and do it all, to which I said that it would be unlikely professionals would work to save existing tile as part of the initial demololition.
This afternoon our friends Chris and Kirsty (from Zena Road) came over for some socially-distanced socializing on our east deck. Kirsty is well to one end of the spectrum in terms of fastidiousness when it comes to avoiding the coronavirus, so she and Chris had come with their own glasses to drink out of. Based on things I've heard Kirsty say, I think she's actually most concerned about her s (she and Chris have something like eight of them) getting the disease.

This evening Gretchen and I drove the dogs up to Lorenz Road, which is one way to get to Georges' abandoned bluestone quarry. But when it was apparent that Ramona was significantly favoring one of her front paws, we decided to abort the walk.

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