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:
   biggie-sized asparagus
Thursday, April 27 2023
Following a different tutorial, this morning I was finally able to get a self-signed SSL certificate to convince Google Chrome that the site it was looking at was legitimate. This amounted to a huge breakthrough, meaning this week wouldn't be devoid of accomplishments. Another accomplishment late in the day was adding "stack" capability to a watchdog system designed to police numerous Javascript data-loading actions. These actions can sometimes have the same name, so I needed to be able to stack up such events to better ascertain whether or not they had completed. In the midst of all this, I had a little crisis that came from foolishly binding port 6443 (used by ArcGIS's internal web server) to https in IIS. This failed to consider the fact that IIS does not control the web server at that port, so that immediately broke ArcGIS.
After work I drove out to the brick mansion on Downs Street to investigate a leak that had developed in the ceiling of the kitchen in 1L. The tenant wasn't home, so I let myself in and looked to see the badly stained drop ceiling in the spot where the leak had been. When I raised up the tiles and looked at what might be happening, I saw that this was beneath the 2nd floor's toilet. That would normally be a bad thing. But since there was no evidence of an ongoing leak, it suggested to me that perhaps the residents of the second floor had experienced an overflowing toilet that they might not want to admit to. I put the lid from a five gallon bucket up on top of the ceiling tile to catch any more water that might fall (just in case there really was a plumbing leak) and called it a day. I can check that lid later to see if any water is pooled in it.

This evening Gretchen and I drove with the dogs down to into Old Hurley to attend a dinner at Ray & Nancy's (and Jack's) house. When we arrived, we saw that our mutual painter friend Eric (who was not there) had been scraping the loose paint on the outside of the house in preparation to paint it some new color. nancy showed me some rot that had been discovered at the base of a pillar supporting the west-facing porch, but it looked like the carpenter ants that had hollowed it out were long gone and whatever water had been getting into the structure had also been fixed. I said that in my opinion it would be a simple matter to dig out the rotten wood, replace it with new pieces, cover it with appropriate trim, and it would be good as new.
Nancy had made us a meal of "biggie-sized" asparagus with gnocci along with a salad which she'd thoughtfully kept the pieces of orange out of (since Gretchen don't like fruit in our savory salads). It was a good meal, and I was also drinking wine a little too rapidly.
We talked at some length about companies that install solar panels that they then lease, allowing homeowners to realize immediate savings on electricity without having to make any up-front expenditures. With their nicely-oriented roof with southern exposure is no longer blocked by trees, I said their electric bills would probably drop to something like $25/month.
Later the others were taling about a television show called Somebody Somewhere, and, since I'd never seen it, we all decided to watch the first episode of the first season. It was pretty good, a kind of poignant comedy about misfits doing the best they can to find community in fly-over country. It's acted by a cast of decidedly non-photogenic actors, which is in itself kind of revolutionary.


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