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:
   21st anniverary
Thursday, May 9 2024
Today was the 21st anniversary of my marriage to Gretchen, so this evening we celebrated it by getting dinner at Cucina, the somewhat fancy Italian restaurant on the east end of Woodstock. A couple months ago when we got drinks at Cucina before seeing a classical music performance at the Woodstock Playhouse, Gretchen had looked at the menu and saw some promising possibilities, so that was where we went. A 16 ounce beer costs $12 there, so the better deal is a $14 cocktail, so we each got fancy cocktails. Mine was a negroni that was pretty good and Gretchen got something she really thought was amazing that contained vodka and aperol. As for food, Gretchen ordered four things that we shared: a garden salad, the legendary rosemary french fries, the roasted cauliflower with oyster mushroom, and a pasta puttanesca where the penne had been replaced with mafaldine. None of this was especially exciting to me except for the french fries and the oyster mushroom, all of the latter of which I had to myself. (I've decided in recent years that I don't actually like roasted cauliflower that much.) Gretchen had told our waiter it was our 21st anniversary, so he later brought out a complimentary dessert which wasn't vegan (even though Gretchen had told him several times about our dietary issues). So then someone brought us out some coconut mango sorbet.
After dinner, we strolled over to the Garden Café via a path (including an adorable little bridge!) connecting Cucina with the Woodstock Playhouse. It was too late to get anything at the Garden, so we just chatted with Leigh instead, telling her about our meal at Cucina. On the walk back to our car, we ducked briefly into the Early Terrible (it was a little too cold to be outside in its charming Tulumesque outdoor area), but Gretchen found the vibe inside vaguely menacing with its disco ball lightshow, gloomy, wildly-ornamented interior, and a young couple nearly making out on the comfy couch. So we turned around and left.

Back at the house, the dogs were nowhere to be seen, so I went out with a flashlight to see if I could find them. I thought I heard the jangling of a collar along the Farm Road, but that must've been an auditory mirage, because soon thereafter I noticed the motion sensor lights behind Roseanne's house (she's our neighborhood grump) had switched on, and then I saw Neville back there walking around. Surely Charlotte must've been nearby. I called to him, but he ignored me, and not long after that I heard him barking from far away in the woods. I ended up waiting outside like the nervous parent of a teenager until they came home, listening to a pair of nearby barred owls making all kinds of crazy noises. (I hoped the dogs would come running to investigate their hooting, which Charlotte still thinks is worthy of shriek-bark response.) Eventually the dogs came walking down Dug Hill Road and I reprimanded them for having crossed it.

For linking purposes this article's URL is:

previous | next