Feliz cumpleaños en enero

Happy New Year and Greetings and welcome to the "Rancho Relaxo" blog for January! This month's issue is not on time. I've got a memo in with the rancho bosso so we'll see how that turns out. Things are still rather hectic around here, though. We’re busier than General Custer on June 25^th, 1876.

Anyway, the Ol' Rooster and Ol' Hen just wanted to share what's happening here at our humble rancho nestled in the finally-sort-of-green foothills of the Sierra Nevada Mountains. This is our rainy season but someone forgot to tell Mother Nature. We've had about enough rain to keep the rivers from drying out but, that's about all (1.59” since July 1, 2024).  We still have hope that El Niño will intervene and dump some agua viva on us. Two “atmospheric rivers” hit the west coast but we didn't get enough rain to fill a small creek. At least the aloe vera plants aren’t complaining. Anyway, thanks for dropping in at the Rancho Relaxo happy huevos industrial complex.

Click on pics to enlarge

Speaking of huevos, we were pretty much floored when we saw the price of eggs at a local store. $7.98 for a dozen eggs. Four years ago, you could get a flat of 36 for that price (or less!)! This isn't even the most expensive place in town! The most expensive was at "Save-mart" where they were priced at over 9.00! If this keeps up, eggs prices will be like they were in the early gold mining towns where a single fresh egg was selling for the equivalent of a day's wage! 

Truly, we are quite pleased that we have our own egg supply out back. After taking into account that it's winter time (the hens lay fewer eggs in the winter) and the great amount of wrangling the birds and other ancillary costs, our eggs probably are only slightly less in cost. But, they are fresh, they are organic, they are without hormones et. al., and they are vastly superior in taste and quality than the store-bought ones. Farm fresh eggs are our friends!

I just had to share a picture of this little cutie pullet. She's one of several mixed breed birdies that are simply gorgeous. We have a couple of gray pullets that are also very pretty little critters. 

Dos eggies. This is an encouraging sign. Some of our pullets are starting to get the message as to why they are being fed so well at the Henhouse Hilton. 

We had a local pump outfit check our well pump and system. We needed them to see if they could help us regain access to all that nice water in the ground that we just love so much. The great news was that, after being here less than an hour, they had us up and running again! A controller box of some sort had to be replaced. The tradesman's name was Art. The guy was quite good and quite personable, and quite professional. He is our hero for the year! They'll send a bill so we can know how many sheckles to toss at them. 

The plumbing in the front is where one of our filters was placed while using the river water. It's been disassembled so that I can clean it/replace it (not sure which yet). In the upper left is the "pitcher pump". If we loose electricity (not likely since we have a back up residential generator), we can always pump water like our great-grandparents did (geee...that sounds like fun).  

Tip O' the day: 

Never trust an electrician with no eyebrows 

And now a word from our sponsor:

This issue of Rancho Relaxo is brought to you by "Pooky Pearson’s Pernolated Padmium Peskers". Now, these are the best “Pernolated Padmium Peskers” that money can buy! You cannot...I say...you cannot get better “Pernolated Padmium Pesker” anywheres! And, folks, they're made right here in the good ol’ US of A. You can get your bountiful supply of " Pooky Pearson’s Pernolated Padmium Peskers" at the Wal-Mart, KMART, Rapid Mart,  Speedy Mart, Save Mart, Quick Mart, and all those marts where those guys have them towels wrapped around their heads. Tell'em the Ol' Rancher sent you. You'll be glad you did!

Holy crab salad, Batman! It's January! And, it's already two weeks past Christmas! Doesn't that just tangle your tutu?! I really don't think Superman can keep up with how fast time flies! Movin' along...

Things are sailing along fairly smoothly here at the ol' rancho. We're taking things as the come though we didn't expect so many things to come so quickly. The good news is that we're still prospering and  in good health. That's' a plus. Nothing major to deal with that I can think of  (I don't think the failure of our well pump to be a major issue). I wonder if a whole lot of non-major issues equals one major issue? Naw. 

Christmas: We had a nice unremarkable Christmas this year. We just stayed home, rested, and counted gift cards (gift cards...are our friends). It was comfortable day of getting anything that I needed to get done while wearing my bed pants (my coveralls helped with that when I had to tend the chickens). There were a couple of days of minimal activity which included the massacre of a couple of our gift cards. Hey; you can't celebrate Christmas on an empty stomach, eh? It was "que sera sera" for a couple of days then we had to get back in the saddle and try to keep Rancho Relaxo from free falling (close call).

Happy New Years and Happy Birthday: 

The new year brought another birthday to the forefront for the Ol' Rancher. That makes for 76 circuits  around the sun. Heap many moons, too. It was a nice birthday with a bit of time off (I was hoping for at least two bits). Then, it was back to the salt mine. 

One of our dear friends who has the same birthday, invited us to participate in her birthday party on New Year's Eve. It was being held concurrently with the annul NYE bash at the Veteran's Memorial Hall on W. Olive Avenue in P'ville. I hadn't been out there in quite awhile. I had actually been part of the same band on this same exact occasion several years ago.

I was invited to sit in with the band and got to play a couple of numbers. I was deeply humbled to get to play with them. For one thing,  I was really rusty: so rusty that I was afraid that I would be getting rust dust all over everybody. That wasn't what happened but it was a close call. We all had a good time! 

Hamming it up: During that day of trying to rest, the Ol' Rancher had the opportunity to tinker with his Ham Radio toys. Not much operating was accomplished but it was fun to construct a couple of "Tiger Tails". "Tiger Tails" are  counterpoises used for making your HT (handy talkie) more efficient. HT's usually have a "rubber ducky" antenna. But, it's only a quarter wave resonator. By adding the "Tiger Tail, you make your antenna (electrically) a half-wave dipole/resonator. 

I recall being in Longview, WA and testing my HT to see if it could break the 2 Meter (VHF) repeater 42 miles away in Astoria, OR. In fact, it would not reach that far. However, after adding the "Tiger Tail", it did a good job of making contact with the repeater. So, I'm a big fan of "Tiger Tails". 

So, the ol' hamster cut and soldered a few of them for his Ham and FRS/GMRS HT's (walkie squawkies). 

Chickening Report: There are a lot of positives about wrangling inordinately stupid, dirty, messy, impolite, sometimes aggressive, indiscrete, and ravenously hungry (even after being fed). "Chicken TV" is one of those positives. You get to see chickens going all kinds of crazy things like deciding to pick a fight for no good reason. 

They can be funny as a barrel of monkeys but particularly so when they can free range. Connie the Canner and I would just sit outside and watch the bird herd at the end of the day as they made their way towards the coop.  Barney Fife wasn't as hilarious as our birdies! Sadly, we learned the hard and costly way that that dynamic couldn't be allowed due to the large number of predators. 

One of the funny things is watching the cockerels learning to crow. These birds come up with the most hilarious renditions of crowing that you can imagine. You can tell that they're trying to mimic Henry Hen Banger II who definitely has his crowing act together. It sort of like teaching your 2 year old how to say "refrigerator". It's close but no "ceegar". They're a hoot!

But, for all the upsides, there are downsides. One of them concerns how and what to feed them (especially since the price of chicken feed doubled in the previous four years). We have been favored and blessed to have a local supermarket (whose owner is a friend and with whom I went to high school) give us the trimmings from their produce department. Can you say "green leafy things"? We get as many as 17 large boxes twice a week! That makes for happy healthy layers! 

Here's a downside: do the math. Let's say that we only get 8 boxes twice per week. That's 16 boxes per week. Just how long does it take to have your back yard filled with boxes? Answer: not long. What happens if you are unable to haul all the boxes off in a timely fashion (remembering that it does get rather busy around here)? Yeah....it gets crowded and messy.

Part of that is because not all of the boxes are empty. The birds can't eat citrus items, peppers, onions, potatoes, yams, hard squash, (there are lots of them), and other produce that's impossible to peck. "Somebody" has to break down all of the boxes (dozens of them), load them up, then haul them to the local transfer station/dump. That's a lot of work that can't be always be done because the trailer is in use or because our schedule won't allow the time it takes. If that isn't enough to overbake your brownies, our dump is only open two days per week. Swell. On the bright side, things look great around here when that "someone" cleans all of that up, rakes, and spiffs up the place. 

Booting up: booting up is supposed to be simple: you sit down, pull your house shoes off, and pull your boots on. But, what happens if you're old and not paying attention (I call it "focus interuptus")? Let me 'splain that to you. 

Guess who didn't notice that he had left his galoshes standing up in their regular "galoshes place"? Yeah. You got it. And, just who was it that forgot to notice that it had rained a little bit the night before. Yeah. You got it. Well, can you guess what happened when the Ol' Rancher pulled his boot on that morning so he could slop the chickens? His foot was met with what seemed like a gallon of cold water! Great. 

When it's 6:30 AM and there's chores to do, you can't just wait for you boots and socks to dry (especially since it's 42 degrees outside). So, the boots were dumped over and freed from their load of water and "Mr. Wet Socks" (maybe I can start my own Saturday morning kiddy show since I took lessons from "Captain Kangaroo") plodded into the cold morning with less than a sparkling attitude. Note to self: pay attention, Ran. 

Freeze it again, Ran! Not long ago (but longer than the other day), I had to pull one of ice boxes apart because the lower section wasn't getting cold. That entailed pulling all the stuff out and getting to work to restore its functionality. The channel between the top and bottom had frozen over so it had to be thawed out again. 

Well, guess what? You guessed it. It froze over again! This time, the Ol' Rancher had a plan. Instead of pulling all the stuff out (rancho law: whatever stuff is pulled out must be stuffed back in), only the freezer section was cleared. Then, a great idea was sparked. Just when the ol' trusty blow dryer was about to be readied for action, the idea struck that I could use the rancho heat gun (which is usually used for heat shrink tubing but which can be used for stripping paint and such other great feats of labor saving) and get the job done quicker and easier. Being rather convenience oriented, there really wasn't a second thought. So, out came the heat gun; the ice was in deep trouble. 

The ice quickly gave way to the searing heat but much caution had to be employed. At the last second, it was noticed that the channels leading from the top to the lower box were insulated with shaped plastic foam (the same stuff which is used in making those cheapie ice chests). That stuff will melt almost as quickly as the ice if one is not mindful. After only singeing the foam, the ice was thoroughly gone.

After some quick re-stuffing of frozen goodies, the tools were stored and the ice box repairman took a break. 

 Fuzzy's close call: Three days ago, when we came home, Abbie greeted us but Fuzzy didn't. That was an instant alert that not all was well. I called for Fuzz Ball and he didn't come. I then headed to the back porch where I found him on his large couch pillow. He had a small amount of blood on his nose so I thought that maybe he had been in a fight. He was content to just rest and be left alone so I went back inside. 

We had to go back out to the car to unload some stuff and the neighbors approached us and advised that Fuzzy had been hit by a car. That wasn't good news at all. He has an electric perimeter collar that only allows him to go so far then it will shock him. So, why was he out in the street 75' past his perimeter? It seems that his fur had grown since I had given him a haircut sometime ago. The contacts on his collar weren't making contact with his skin. Since he didn't feel restricted, he started doing his natural "doggie  thing" which is to hunt around town. 

He's recovering well but is limping because his left hind leg has been injured. It doesn't appear to be broken so his recovery looks good for now. 

Quick update: he's doing much better now. He's starting to act like his usual self. His limp isn't quite as bad as it was. He'll be OK. 

Burger, fries, and a coke combo.

The other day (when lots of things happen around here), we stopped at "Burger Kings" for lunch. The local store takes expired coupons so we're sure to get a good deal when we have to feed the old folks. Get this....even with the significant coupon discount, the "two-fer" Whopper combo meal deal was right up against 20 bucks (25 without the coupon). 

We also went to another burger place in town that we hadn't been to in a few years. Again, we ordered the burger combo meal. I suppose we shouldn't have suffered "sticker shock" when the tab was within easy reach of 30 dollars!! This messes with the minds of the old folks who easily remember purchasing a burger combo meal for less than a dollar! It was a good thing that we didn't order anything fancy (with cheese or such). 

Due to the high prices and how thrifty we are, we may cease knocking over these places. It's just as well as I was turning into the Incredible Bulk. Reckon I can wait to be discovered by Hollywood (or at least a comic book writer). Maybe I have another super power that I wasn't aware of. 

Ham Report: Lots of good news this time around. One thing is that my tower is up! It still needs to be guyed down but at least it's vertical!! The plan is to use it as an anchor for other antennas so that they'll be up high enough to be effective. There is a hope to mount a dual-band (VHF/UHF) vertical on it like the one that's mounted on the house almost directly over my office. Also, it will be the anchor for my 105' off-center fed Windom dipole antenna. 

If the mounting isn't too difficult, the plan is to mount my 40' mast to our 10' tall 4" pipe mounted near the front driveway. It was mount for a basketball hoop at one time but it never got used to I took it down. It appears that the mast will slide down inside the pipe with a snug fit. That'll help in keeping it vertical. There's still the matter of guying it down properly so it doesn't wake us up in the middle of the night during a windstorm of some kind. 

Because of the current radio wave propagation dynamic being on the "high cycle", the HF (high frequency) bands are "open" and are facilitating what some folks call "skip". This is really great at any time but it's really super when you are (purposely) running a low powered transceiver. Even transceivers with just a few watts of output can reach out for great distances. 

My low-powered rig is a Yeasu FT-817 with 5 watts output. That's roughly the equivalent in performance to a CB radio. Nothing fancy here. The antenna for now is a 19' CB vertical tuned with an MFJ-949E antenna tuner. 

So, it was really neat when I made a contact with a ham operator in Kansas City, KS who had a mobile ham rig in his pickup truck.  A few days later I made a contact in the Solomon Islands 6,100 miles from here and using 5W output (about the same power output as a stock CB radio which is 4W)! That's the marvel of the 10 Meter ham band when it's open for business. 

Well....there you have it: another short episode of the long happenings at Rancho Relaxo (aka “Dos Acres”): home of Rancho Ran, the world's least-most greatest authority: home of the Yo-Yo  twins and  three ducks that we try to keep in a row (one of which is retarded): home of Connie the Canner, the world's greatest side-kook and CEE (Chief of Everything Else): where the air smells and where alliteration reigns supreme: where being modern is optional and where there are no slaves to fashion: where the eggs are always mostly fresh: where things can get...interesting: where it's all news to me and where...you just never know.

RANCHO CRAZIO BUSYO

 

Greetings and welcome to the "Rancho Relaxo" blog for Decembre. This month's issue is not on time just like the previous 180 months or so. Things are still rather hectic around here, too. We're busier than a one-legged rodeo clown. 

Anyway, the Ol' Rooster and Ol' Hen just wanted to share what's happening here at our humble rancho nestled in the hopin'-for- green foothills of the Sierra Nevada Mountains. This should be our last month of drought. In fact, it's supposed to rain tomorrow (though ony about a 50% chance). And, we're mighty grateful for the second "mad rain" we got not long ago. There's a rumor that the local Indian casino spent a lot of money on a "rain dancer" and a cloud seeder. So, there's hope, eh? Thanks for dropping in at the Rancho Relaxo happy huevos industrial complex.

Note: click on the pictures to enlarge.

A couple of months ago, this exact corner was the location of 8' tall skeletons, ogres, ghouls, monsters, and such. Why aren't Santas 8' tall? 

Golden Corral W. Ming Ave. Bakersfield

We hadn't been to a GC in several years so it was decided to just up and get outta Dodge for part of a day. So, we mounted the Coop DeVille and headed to Bakersfield to knock over our favorite smorgy. 

The main goal was to try to sample at least a small amount of most of the delicacies offered. Come to find out, there so many of them that, instead, I had to be satisfied just eating until I made money. You'll want to note that, when you over-eat, a great deal of your blood supply rushes to your stomach so that your brain won't be able to figure out why you ate until you ached.

That somnolent condition (post prandial fatigue) called for an immediate nap after we exited the building. There was a short dead-end road adjacent to the place so we just found some shade and laid back the seats. Neither of us could move for about an hour. That was great because I could just see us getting a ticket for "DWS" (driving while stuffed). 

 

Wanna see my noodles? This is our "Gonna cook a huge pot o' chili one of these days" pot. Since we weren't planning on having a huge pot (or a non-huge pot) of chili any time soon, it was put to good use. The other day (when lots of things happen around here), one of our large boxes of stored spaghetti noodles was compromised when it got wet. Since Connie the Canner disallows contaminated food stuffs in our house, we purposed to do what we always do with anything we can't eat: give it to the chickens. This is the second of probably 4 pots of noodles headed to the henhouse. 

Chickens, being ravenous omnivores that they are, absolutely attacked the ol' noodle flinger when he entered the Hen House Hilton. When noodles are added to the amazingly varied diet our biddies are pampered with, it's little wonder our eggs are quite superior in quality. 

This big beauty is a deHavilland DHC-4 Caribou converted to the DHC-5 Buffalo (upgrading the piston radial engine for a turboprop). It's used to haul skydivers locally. 

This is the dawn that greeted me when I went out to feed the chickens this morning. 

Tip O' the day: 

"Consumerism may be vulgar, but it beats hunger and poverty seven days a week" FEE  (Foundation for Economic Education)

And now a word from our sponsor:

This issue of Rancho Relaxo is brought to you by “Inez Icely’s Insulated Inuit Igloos". Now, these are the best “Insulated Inuit Igloos” that money can buy! You cannot...I say...you cannot get better “Insulated Inuit Igloo” anywheres! And, folks, they're made right here in the good ol’ US of A. You can get your bountiful supply of " Inez Iceley’s Insulated Inuit Igloos" at the Wal-Mart, KMART, Speedy Mart, Save Mart, Quick Mart, Rapid Mart, and all those marts where those guys have them towels wrapped around their heads. Tell'em the Ol' Rancher sent you. You'll be glad you did!

It's December already! And, it's only two weeks until Christmas! Doesn't that just beat the thunder out of you?! Anyway....moving along........

Rancho Relaxo Report

Well…we finally did it. We took a day off so we could get some work done around here. Boy, oh, boy, was there a lot to do! 

Chillin’ with Ran, the Reefer Man, or Cool, Dude!

Not long ago (but longer than the other day), our coolerator (thank you, Chuck Berry) was freezing on the top but the bottom part was not getting the message that it was "cool to be cool" . Great. Just what we needed, a stupid cold-free refrigerator.

The presenting issue was a common one so Ol’ Ran, the Reefer Man (the other reefer, silly), grabbed one flat and one Phillips screwdriver, nut drivers, and a big ol’ LED light, and went to work. Of course, to be able to work on the dang thang, you have to empty the contents and the glass shelves so….that was fun  (the freezer was stuffed to the gunnels).Thankfully, there were three big ice chests available. They were immediately deployed and stuffed full of frozen goodies (found a few hidden treats, too!).

After denuding the ice box, the inside back wall covers (upper and lower) were unbuttoned and removed. The upper cover was the problem because the port between the freezer part and reefer part was completely occluded. The remedy was to take the cover to the sink and run hot water over the blockage until it was free of all ice. That didn't take long. 

And, since you have the machine open and available, shouldn't you just up and scrub the thing down while you're at it? Yep, you should. Ol' Ran donned his "Scrubber Dude" hat and grabbed a bucket and some rags. By the time the scrubbing was done, it looked a lot like a new ice box. Connie the Canner was mighty pleased with the outcome. 

After that, all the parts and pieces were reassembled and the freezer contents were returned to their rightful place. Some of the reefer stuff had been warm and/or out for too long so they were tossed. 

Fun fact: during the first part of WW2, aircraft manufacturers switched to Phillips head screws. Their production rate was boosted by more than 20% because the mechanics didn’t have to stop and find and get another screw all of the time. They saved a ton of money, too. 

Chickening report

Our dirty birdies are doing well and are happy and healthy. They should be; they eat better than half the world's population! Seriously! They eat fruits, veggies, and grains for practically every meal! They also have fresh water daily and there are many humans on the earth that can't say that (I'm most sorry to say, of course). 

There is an issue during the cooler months, though, and that's the matter of the coop not drying out if too much water/rain has been introduced. "Someone" (can you spell "blame shifting"?) didn't notice that the  water hose wasn't completely shut off and the forward coop flooded. Great. During the summer, that isn't an issue since it would be dry in only a few days. Not so during the cooler season. 

This means that the Ol' Rancher has to don his trusty rubber boots/galoshes every time he deals with the bird herd. Since chickens are not at all a tidy bunch, they stomp through the mud and everything....as in everything....in the coop gets muddy. Also, mud is slick and if a person (e.g. an old rooster rouster like me) isn't acutely mindful, he becomes Sonja Henny but without the style. This leads to a mystical experience of simultaneously becoming one with with the mud and coming into unity with limitless pain (ask me how I know).  

This dynamic of caution precipitates yet another practice and that's the one I call "The Chicken Coop Shuffle". Being cautious because of the mud also means taking extra care to not step on the cluckers. Most of birds are actually pullets and cockerels (the newest of them being fairly small). These little birds can flit and dart all over the place and, because they are fairly tame, they aren't afraid to get under foot. To avoid mashing one of them, I've gotten into the practice of  only taking small steps and shuffling along the ground. There have been a few squawks but no injuries so far. 

Water is our friend

A month ago, our well pump motor decided to croak. We immediately called the local long-time pump guy for help. It was cool since I knew him and some of his relatives. Well, well, well....he's no longer in the well business. Swell. It took awhile to search around and find another company but there's a well company out of Fresno who will be glad to help us. But, it'll cost us a couple of Benjamins to have them take a look. 

Thankfully, though we can afford a couple of hun to do that, we also have options. It's possible that the bladder tank pressure switch may be faulty so it'll be checked prior to calling the professionals. In any case, the pump isn't working. 

Now, to the good part. You would think that, because the pump was dead, we would have no water. Ah, but the Ol' Rancher is "Joe Backup" and was ahead of the game. We have a dedicated irrigation water supply that directs Tule River water to our "ditch" that runs around the hill above our place. So, when we had our 2,200 gallon water tank (used for fire suppression) installed, I had it and the ditch water plumbed into the main water line from the pump house. 

No, the big tank won't be used for potable water (I have no need for green goo in our water lines) but it may be used in a "pinch" if we need non-potable water for whatever the exigency is. However, the ditch water is just clean river water that only needs to be filtered. That's why there are three filters used between it and the house. So, the old folks have plenty of water to go around. We do use bottled water for drinking as well. No worries. The pump should be up and running soon (we're not livin' on Tulsa time so only God knows when that could be). 

Side note: we are saving about 150 dollars per month on electricity to run our pump. I had no idea! 

Movin’ On or Mom’s Gotta Go

A week ago, my  96 year old mother moved into "Sierra Hills" assisted care facility. Due to a mis-communication, she wasn't ready when we arrived with "Wooley Pulley", our  5' x 8' stake-side trailer (with 48" removeable sides) . That meant the, instead of taking only a couple of hours to make the move (after church), we were busy for six hours. We started at 1:30 PM and finished at 7:30 PM. I don’t mind being the life of the party but truly hate being the wreck of the party. It took a couple of days to recover from the entire day which began at 5AM. 

She's now settling in and doing well. There are folks out there that she knows and others, get this, she knows their...parents! Lots to talk about (and you just know how much mothers love to talk, eh?). 

A couple of "kids" I went to high school with were there, too. It was great to see them. But....why are they so... old? Oh...yeah.. 

Turkey day

We had a peaceful and uneventful Thanksgiving Day. The old folks just stayed at home and "un-laxed" (thank you Amos and Andy). I don't recall even getting out of my bed pants. The rest was greatly needed even though it wasn't nearly enough to coax us back to normal. 

Connie the Cooker made a traditional meal including the dead turkey and all the trimmings. We had leftovers for days but that's a good thing. Leftovers are our friends! Our doggies were treated with some of the offal and some of our leftovers. They committed to stay as along was we treated them like royalty. 

How to fall out of bed without you don't even half try

I've experienced some strange things in my life but few are as strange as what happened recently. I was dreaming that I was on recon patrol in WW2 (I'm a WW2 history buff) and was watching a smallish (40' ?) Japanese  troop transport boat land nearby. As the leader of the platoon started toward me, I began to fall back trying to not be discovered. As they drew nearer, I felt myself actually falling backward. It was at that point I exited the dream. Simultaneously, there was a sense of falling, a sharp pain on the left side of my head, and then an immediate noise of a human body making contact with the floor. 

Being somewhat dazed, and having been violently ripped from a deep sleep and a really interesting dream (and not knowing if I would be captured. Dang!), it dawned on my that I had fallen out of bed! That was a first! It took a few seconds to regain a grip on reality. 

There was another dream that I remembered from when I was about 4 years old. I was next to a creek and needing to urinate. So, I just unloaded into the creek (what a handy gadget to have on a picnic, eh?). But, it wasn't the creek; it was my bed! Lesson learn; don't trust dreams!

But, this? This was a real shocker! My attention was immediately drawn to the pain in the temporal region of my noggin. After palpating the area, it was determined that there was no significant denting (my grandmother called me "lumber head". How did she know?!). And, since there was only pain and no blood, there was no problem. What had happened was, when I fell from fantasy land back into the real world, my head smacked the night stand which was a 6" below the level of our bed (which is up high on stands since I park my guitars under it). 

After letting the dust settle and after counting parts and pieces, it was determined that it would be OK to attempt to hoist the sleepy pile of injured flesh from ground level to see if there would be any dizziness. Nope; no dizziness. That's good news. 

In the future, I think it would be great if I stopped stalking Japanese soldiers and just stick with shooting down Messerschmitts and such. 

Anyway, may all y'all have a very merry Christmas and happy New Year! Grace and peace be multiplied unto you. The blessing of the Lord come upon you and overtake you. The Lord compass you about with favor as with a shield.  

Well....there you have it: another short episode of the long happenings at Rancho Relaxo (aka “Dos Acres”): home of Rancho Ran, the world's least-most greatest authority: home of the Yo-Yo  twins and  three ducks that we try to keep in a row (one of which is retarded): home of Connie the Canner, the world's greatest side-kook and CEE (Chief of Everything Else): where the air smells and where alliteration reigns supreme: where being modern is optional and where there are no slaves to fashion: where the eggs are always mostly fresh: where things can get...interesting: where it's all news to me and where...you just never know.

RANCHO DUSTO STORMO

 

Greetings and welcome to the "Rancho Relaxo" blog for Novembre. This month's issue is not on time just like the previous 180 months or so. Things are still rather hectic around here. We're busier than a five pound bass in a bath tub full of minnows.  

Anyway, the Ol' Rooster and Ol' Hen just wanted to share what's happening here at our humble rancho nestled in the hopin'-and-prayin'-for- rain foothills of the Sierra Nevada Mountains. This should be our last month of drought. We've had a slight seasonal break in the weather and are mighty grateful for the "mad rain" we finally got (though just enough rain to get your windshield muddy). But, there's hope! We have a .05% chance of .0001 inches of rain just around the corner! Thanks for dropping in at the Rancho Relaxo happy huevos industrial complex.

Note: click on the pics to enlarge. 

I haven't seen this phenomenon since 1963. This is a genuine dust storm. They are rare because there is a lot more tilled and tended farmland in our area than prior to the '70's. Prior to that, dust storms were expected every few years (I've experienced two). What made this storm different was that it that it happened so late in the year and that there was a rainstorm that precipitated it. We had dust and rain at the same time! Wild! Thankfully, it was a rather brief event and we weren't choked by the dust. Rain is our friend!                                                                                    

When I first received this picture, I think I had about a dozen captions for it within about 30 seconds. But, there was a change of mind so it was decided to report it for what it is. Eldest son, Jeff, and his wife, Sandra, just experienced a new four-legged addition to their family. There's something cute about baby animals that we all appreciate and this little guy is sure a camera pleaser accordingly. The name that immediately came to mind was "Pepe". However, it was surmised that he would have been the three millionth donkey to be named that. There may be a need for a tad more creativity around here. Maybe "Ziggy" or "Honkey" will work, eh? 

The other day (when lots of things happen around here), we had to make a trip to a "real town"; that would be Visalia which is about 40 miles from our front door. It was decided that, before the trip home, we would stop for lunch so that we could crack a gift card for IHOP (I Hate Old People?) on Mooney Blvd. It was past lunch time so we certainly had a case of the "hongries". One item that has intrigued this old waffle eater is the "chicken and waffles" craze that seems to be growing around here. It's probably been here for years and in its dying phase but you just know which Luddite hasn't been paying attention. There was no better time to do it so the order was made while Connie the Side Kook ordered pancakes with a pile of blueberries on top. I’m now a paid-up member of the Chicken ‘N Waffles club.

To the left is a shot taken about15 seconds after the plate stopped moving. Naw....just kidding. It was more like 30 seconds or so. This was only the third time in 22-23 years that I've eaten at an IHOP. I was turned OFF the previous time about 3 or so years ago after they served me a "steak" that was little more than a                                                                        "Dr. Scholl's" shoe insert that had been microwaved to death. 

For the ex-pats: here's two shots of the two new bridges at River Island Golf Course. They have a new owner and, whoever it is, have overhauled everything and rebuilt things that the flood destroyed. Lookin' good!

Here's Fuzzy frolicking about with Abbie who is giving great diligence to keep up with his boundless energy. This is no small saying. She doesn't have his boundless (and bounding) energy but, because she can track a coon all night, take a ten minute nap, and hunt all the next day, she can keep up with him on the whole. They keep each other busy, to say the least. Fuzzy is also our "trash inspector" who pulls over and dumps out our 8 trash barrels to make sure they are solid and sound enough to be pulled over for inspection (bless his little doggy heart). Can't think of any other reason he'd do that since he also hauls his large stainless steel feed bowl thirty feet from the back porch every morning. My pal. 

Wanna see my soup stock?! The other day, Connie the Canner roasted up a big ol' turkey. She had run out of room to freeze or store it so she decided to can the thing. I don't mind at all what she does with it as long as the carcass ends up in the big ol' stainless steel cook pot! To the right is a picture taken just after stuffing the carcass and some spices (chicken stock, garlic, salt, and a tad of "Liquid Smoke") into the pot. The first application of the soup base was to make a turkey gravy over toast. Oh, my! What a delight! 

Next we'll likely try the soup base with Ramen noodles in it. I can go for that, too! We'll see. 

'

About a week or so after the soup base was made, there was a big cache of Portabella mushrooms that came our way. It didn't take long to know what to with them. Out came the stainless steel sauté pan, olive oil, and butter. Add some heat from out vintage O'Keef and Merritt range, shake the pan a bit, and voilà! "Ze 'shrooms are fineeshed, monsieur!".

 

Tip of the Day:

“Never go full retard” (Robert Downey Jr. “Tropic Thunder”)

And now a word from our sponsor:

This issue of Rancho Relaxo is brought to you by “Happy Hannah’s Heepy Hoogie Hadder Hudders". Now, these are the best “Heepy Hoogie Hadder Hudders” that money can buy! You cannot...I say...you cannot get better “Heepy Hoogie Hadder Hudders” anywheres! And, folks, they're made right here in the good ol’ US of A. You can get your bountiful supply of "Happy Hannah’s Heepy Hoogie Hadder Hudders" at the Wal-Mart, KMART, Speedy Mart, Save Mart, Quick Mart, Rapid Mart, and all those marts where those guys have them towels wrapped around their heads. Tell'em the Ol' Rancher sent you. You'll be glad you did!

Well....it's November and I'm still waiting for spring so I can get my cleaning done. Doesn't that just sink you new canoe?! If that doesn't, it's only 42 days until Christmas!! It'll be here before you finish using the leftovers from your Thanksgiving turkey! Moving along..........*SIGH*

Chickening Report: 

How are the Gluttonous Gallos doing? or Yes, we have lots of huevos; we have lots of huevos today.

Well, we up to our hips in itsy bitsy, teeny weeny, yellow fluffy chirpy thingies. Our gallo gang has now grown to 55 birds! All seriousness aside, we really hadn't wanted to re-start our career as professional chicken sitters. The previous time, we went more than two years without a day off! I mean, just who are you going to call to baby sit almost a hundred hens?! So, it is with some trepidation that we are committing to such a feat again. 

This latest endeavor wasn't a planned operation but it may well turn out for the best. This is to say that we can always treat the birds as "currency" and barter or sell them at will and be unencumbered forthwith (and take a day off). And, it is a rather positive thing to never having to give thought about running out of eggs. In any event, all of these new chicks came upon us fairly quickly (about a month) so something had to be done. And, there's really not a way for the chicks to receive sufficient nutrition in the coop until they are big enough to eat crumbles and scratch without a momma to help them (we separated the chicks as day-olds). 

So, we started with Connie, the Chicken Granny, who conducts our chicken “pre-school”. Since we snatch the little guys away from their mommas, there’s no one to protect them. We maintain a chicken pre-school/pre-coop for them and that’s where a chicken granny comes in. We can’t just toss our little birdies into the main coop; the big birds will peck them to death unless a big ol’ mother hen says, “Touch my chick and the only thing that'll be left of you is three feathers and a bloody beak!”. 

The little birdies really do need to be "chicken sat" so we have a large plastic tub that we maintain as a coop of sorts. We place a watering bottle at one end and a feed pan at the other. There is also an incandescent hooded bulb parked over it at one end to provide some extra heat. When they get big enough to get out of the tub without assistance, they graduate to the small 4' x 3' x 3' "hootch" inside the coop. When they're there a couple of weeks and can get out without assistance, they are added to the general population. They are guarded for a few minutes or so to make sure they integrate without issues. 

I’ve not yet figured out why chickens are programmed to try to commit chick-o-cide (you probably won't find that in your Funk and Wagnalls). You would think it would end the species rather quickly. But, it must work since there are ten times as many chickens on earth as there are humans (who seem to be set on genocide…and we think we’re smarter than birds).

The big birds are doing well but are still rather inconsistent with their egg production. It's likely the change in weather. They were used to nightly lows of around 50 degrees or higher. Lately, the temps are in the 40's. Layers are prodigious egg factories but only when they decide to be. That means that we have tons of eggs for awhile and very few at other times. We're not concerned since we have plenty of eggs in storage (e.g. water glassing). C'est la vie. 

Before long (but not next month), it'll be a good idea to replace the plastic curtains on the west side to attenuate the breeze that comes in from that direction. They're hardy enough to handle the cold but adding wind isn't a good thing. All I need is a....day off....so I can get to it. 

Well, it's eatin' time again. I guess I'll see yuh or What's for Lunch?!

It may have been a good idea to label this edition of RR, "Rancho Fiesta" or "Rancho Comida" since there's so much food happening this time. Not long ago (but longer than the other day), we had to go to the nearest "big town" which is Visalia. As it happened, we were finished with business and ready to head back home a little after 11AM or so. And, since we hadn't had breakfast, and since we just happened to  have a gift card to "Red Robin", we figured it was time for a "free lunch" (free lunches are our friends!). 

The problem was that, the previous time we were in there (a year or so ago), the music was deafening and far too unpeaceful for us to enjoy their tasty burgers. Taking a chance, we peeked in and found that their music was playing but at a comfortable level. "Table for two, please!". 

We had gone to the "Red Robin" on Ming Avenue in Bakersfield and once there in Visalia so the two old people had great expectations of having a super burger this time around. It was difficult to be disappointed what with the "bottomless fries" component of the meal (I didn't wear out the server, this time) and having an excellent server helped a lot, too. That said, they use a standard (i.e. small) bun for their burgers which was a minor but real "thumbs down" matter for this old burger gnasher. Tall burgers are more difficult to eat because their guts fall out when you try to eat them. It wouldn't be an issue if I just did what Fuzz Doggy Dog does and just gulp the whole thing down in one gulp without caring if any part of it hit any teeth or not on the way down. 

No, I didn't pout and whine. It's just that it made the lunch a four star event instead of a five star one. If folks keep throwing gift cards at us, we'll gladly gain weight at "Red Robin". Just keep them fries a'comin'! 

Wouldn't you know that October was "eatin' out" month for the old people. And, you know me. I'm all for eatin’ good in the neighborhood!

We had yet another  trip to Visalia (making three that month) at about noon time or so. This time, we had a sister from church with us and it didn't take long for a consensus to be made. We all agreed that, prior to returning to Hooterville, we would head down to Tulare (Tulare is ten miles south of Visalia and right on the way home) to knock over a "Popeye's" for a chicken sandwich. It had been at least a month since we had had a "Popeye's" fix so it was nigh unto time for another one. 

Now, both of the old folks find that chicken, in just about in configuration, is our friend. We've been to "Chick-Fil-A", "Popeye's", "Big Boss Grill" and "Super Burger" in Porterville, and a few other places thither and yon for their chicken sandwich. But, the winner seems to be "Popeye's". We've never left their hungry or displeased for any reason. 

This time, yours truly added the "red beans and rice" side dish since it hadn't been tried yet. There's two parts to this event. First, it truly was delicious; no doubt about it. However (I hate howevers, don't you?), it seemed to me to be a bit presumptuous that they charged 3.99 for a total of about 5-6 tablespoons of beans and rice. It was especially sad that there were only about 3 or 4 beans and a smattering of rice in their skimpy serving. All the rest was just gravy of some kind. Didn't make since to me given that there isn't much on any menu that's cheaper than beans and rice (wholesale, that is). I was expecting at least a half cup and they wouldn't lose money if they had served a full cup (especially at that price and being so watered down!). So, though not disappointed or dismayed, you know who will never again be taken advantage of in their restaurants again. 

Well....there you have it: another short episode of the long happenings at Rancho Relaxo (aka “Dos Acres”): home of Rancho Ran, the world's least-most greatest authority: home of the Yo-Yo  twins and  three ducks that we try to keep in a row (one of which is retarded): home of Connie the Canner, the world's greatest side-kook and CEE (Chief of Everything Else): where the air smells and where alliteration reigns supreme: where being modern is optional and where there are no slaves to fashion: where the eggs are always mostly fresh: where things can get...interesting: where it's all news to me and where...you just never know.

 

RANCHO PEEPO

 

Greetings and welcome to the "Rancho Relaxo" blog for Octobre. This month's issue is on time. But, just like the previous 180 months or so, things are still rather hectic around here. We're busier than a mosquito at a nudist colony. 

Anyway, the Ol' Rooster and Ol' Hen just wanted to share what's happening here at our humble rancho nestled in the dryer-than-a-ten-day-old-biscuit foothills of the Sierra Nevada Mountains. Like last month, we've had a break in the weather and are mighty grateful that the tar on our roads isn't flowing. But. we're sort of back to being normal again with high 90's and a few low triple digit highs for the day. Thanks for dropping in at the Rancho Relaxo happy huevos industrial complex. 

NOTE: click on pics to enlarge

Once in awhile, you simply have to conjure up a few things from the past: like this "SOS" dish that people either love or hate. It has been served up to our military since at least WW1 and shouldn't be a stranger to most households.

Hamburger gravy on toast wasn't a stranger in our house when I was young but it hasn't been a staple at all since then. So, it was time to do things up right and get back to basics. 

The proper name for "SOS" is "creamed chipped beef on toast". You use dried beef that's been chopped up and then add it to a simple milk and flour gravy. It just so happened that I had accrued a few of the small jars of the stuff so it was time to make this tasty recipe. Most likely, I'll use hamburger for the next go around. 

The (easy) directions were followed and the scrumptious meal ensued. The  toast was a tad overcooked but I actually like that so that's why you see a not-so-picture-perfect plating. Enough gravy was made to have a second meal the next day for lunch. My, but that's good stuff! 

You just never know what's going to happen next at a chicken ranch. This is an egg without a shell. It's absolutely perfect and complete except for the shell. The anomaly can be caused by malnutrition but that's been ruled out this time. Our birds are well fed with a diverse diet which includes egg shells that have been broken up and fed back to them. Since we have a lot of eggs, this one was mixed into the doggie's food bowl. 

This is the longest section of a 40'+ mast that will ultimately be used as the anchor point for one of my HF wire dipoles which will then be secured at the top  of my 60' crank-up tower. It will then be referred to as a "sloper" dipole because one end will be higher than the other. It will help to get my signal out of the "bowl" that I'm in at this location/QTH. NVIS ("near vertical incidence skywave") is a requirement here due to the mountains. 

Side note: I was using our (Longview, WA) W7DG ham club's stock 100 watt Kenwood TS830S transceiver in WA one evening and using the 80 meter "sloper" dipole antenna. I worked Pitcairn Island in the far south Pacific Ocean with no problems (4990 miles). My contact, David Christian, was one of only a few Ham operators on the island. 

Jim King, KJ6KK, gave me the mast and a ton of other hardware to go with it. He's downsizing and can't use it where he'll be moving to. Thanks, Jim! 

For the expats: this is the new county building at Main and Olive streets. It's where the old Porterville Hotel used to be prior to it's demise in a huge fire. Most people don't recall that the business that abutted the hotel was an auto parts store owned and operated by Ronnie Witzel. I haven't run into him lately but I suspect that he collected a decent insurance settlement and retired. He earned it. 

This is what happens when you aren't paying attention in a chicken coop. Our birds have hatched out a ton of chicks lately so the Ol' chick thief was focused on trying to distract the momma hen so that her day-old chick could be grabbed and hauled off. Just as the little ex-huevo was being picked up, a brooder in one of the upper laying boxes left off her brooding and donned her karate Gi and went to war. She came out of nowhere and smacked me upside the head with a furious flurry of feathers! At first, I couldn't figure out how an M1A1 Abrams tank had gotten into the coop without me noticing it. Then, since I was still alive, it couldn't have been a tank. So, then I couldn't figure out whose pet mountain lion I had infuriated. 

All ended well though. After suffering a puncture wound to the forehead and a bloody scratch down the cheek, I chose to concede while I was still breathing and exit the fray with the newly-hatched chick (fighting against two mad hens is not a fair fight!). As my old grandpappy used to say, "Pay attention, son, or some day a chicken may kick your butt". Add one more "character mark". 

This is Abbie who is looking at me askance for interrupting her nap in her carefully crafted dog wallow. Rather than go full crazy chicken on me, she decided to give me a pass since I've been spoiling her a lot lately. Bless her lil' doggy heart. 

Fuzz ball is doing well, too. He's a bit too happy tearing apart and scattering the cardboard boxes that I have to load up and haul off. But, I suffer long with him 'cause he's my buddy and a pal. 

This is another of our little peepers. I guess the old folks will never tire of all of the cute baby chicks. It really is a job to take care of so many of them but it won't be long until they're in the general population or at least in the "halfway hootch" in the coop. We have a nice 4' x 3' x 3' cage on legs that keeps the little ones who are too big to be inside until they can be released into the mayhem of chicken society. If we release them when they are too small/young, the larger birds will actually attack and even kill them.

Tip O' The Day: 

"If you swim with a friend, your chances of getting eaten by a shark will drop by 50%" (Anonymous)

And now a word from our sponsor:

 This issue of Rancho Relaxo is brought to you by “Pretty Patty’s Pebby Pabbers". Now, these are the best Pebby Pabbers that money can buy! You cannot...I say...you cannot get better Pebby Pabbers anywheres! And, folks, they're made right here in the good ol’ US of A. You can get your bountiful supply of "Pretty Patty’s Pebby Pabbers" at the Wal-Mart, KMART, Speedy Mart, Save Mart, Quick Mart, Rapid Mart, and all those marts where those guys have them towels wrapped around their heads. Tell'em the Ol' Rancher sent you. You'll be glad you did!

Can you believe it?! 82 days until Christmas! Unreal! And, it's only a few weeks until Halloween. There a lot of10 foot tall skeletons and ghouls sprouting up in people's yards around the area. Halloween is just around the corner. Before you know it, we'll be eatin' turkey, too! I swan (if you haven't swanned, you haven't yet lived long enough) that something is ripping a hole in the space-time continuum. Moving along....

Henry Henbanger II: Our big bad rooster, Henry, is the boss of the coop and he knows it. It’s been that way since he got big enough to kick the previous boss’ feathery fanny. It’s the “pecking order, don’tcha know, and now, he’s the head pecker. I let him strut tall and keep his beliefs so we've had a pretty good working relationship. There have been exceptions like his occasional bad mood or when he gets a tad too proud. Not sure what that’s all about but it could be that he hasn’t done enough crowing or such (though we are hatching chicks like never before).

The other day (when lots of things happen around here), while I was tending to the chicks parked in the small hootch in the coop, Ol’ Bang sneaked up behind me with the intention of reinforcing his dominance. He made a quick lunge at my leg so as to run me off. Thankfully, I was wearing floppy sweat pants and wasn’t injured (oh, yeah. A big rooster can easily draw blood). He’s done this a few times now and I do understand that he’s the “cock o’ the walk”. However, he needs to undo his ‘tude, humble himself, and sign the peace treaty or he’s likely to end up as the main ingredient of a combo meal some day...soon. He can be at peace and be a winner of he can be a 7 piece chicken dinner. 

Big Bertha or 'Tis the season to be freezin' - The other day (when lots of things happen around here), it was time to fire up Big Bertha, the freeze dryer. We had only used it for a couple of test runs after it was returned from the Utah factory (where its compressor was replaced) because the temperature in the garage was just too hot for it to operate efficiently. So, you can imagine the disappoint that Connie the Freeze Dryer suffered when the machine failed to progress past its initialization stag. This was very...interesting...since that was the same presentation when the compressor failed the previous time. 

It was even more disappointing given that she spent an hour or more slicing and preparing several pounds of bananas for drying. The "nanners" ended up being ruined since we couldn't do anything with them at the time. We're rapidly coming into cooler temps so the freeze dryer needs to be operational soon. 

The factory was contacted and a repair request ticket was  opened. They need pictures of the manufacturer's ID plate of both the machine and its compressor. This is the second major issue we've faced so far and we are not "cappy hampers", to say the least. Stay tuned for the remainder of this saga.  

Little boxes little boxes and they all look just the same: We get the produce trimmings from a local supermarket which helps us feed our bird herd a really balanced and healthy diet. However, you wouldn't even believe how fast boxes can multiply! We get from four to 16 boxes twice per week. Each of those boxes has to be emptied then cut down, stacked, and then, eventually, loaded into Wooley Pulley for a ride to the Springville Transfer Station 1.5 miles east of us. It takes a while but, eventually the trailer is loaded and we're off to the dump. 

However, this is Rancho Relaxo and you just never know what will happen around here. Not long ago (but longer than the other day), we need to make a dump run to haul off the boxes. But, the trailer was fully loaded by our grounds keeper with yard and tree trimmings. He had failed to empty it and left it loaded so that left you know who to do the back breaking chore of hauling it off and unloading it. That wasn't part of my agenda. In fact, that's why we hired the guy in the first place. The Ol' Rancher has broken his back (and other parts of his anatomy) many times in his life and he has declared an end to the matter: but not this time. 

After tarping the trailer down (or face a fine for not covering it), we hauled the thing down to the dump. On most occasions, the trailer is unloaded within about fifteen minutes or so. Not this time. Because of the huge load and the fact that it was comprised of different types of refuse, it took almost an hour of terribly strenuous pulling, tugging, lifting, untangling, and even handling small pieces at a time to unload (in the hot sun). It's been a while since the Ol' Rancher has been physically wrecked like that. But, there weren't any options. We needed to use the trailer and the grounds keeper wasn't available. It took a few days to recover but things are back to normal. Since that time, the boxes have multiplied into a huge mountain out back. Great. At least the trailer is available so they will be cut down, loaded, and hauled off soon. I'd rather be flying. 

Well....there you have it: another short episode of the long happenings at Rancho Relaxo (aka “Dos Acres”): home of Rancho Ran, the world's least-most greatest authority: home of the Yo-Yo  twins and  three ducks that we try to keep in a row (one of which is retarded): home of Connie the Canner, the world's greatest side-kook and CEE (Chief of Everything Else): where the air smells and where alliteration reigns supreme: where being modern is optional and where there are no slaves to fashion: where the eggs are always mostly fresh: where things can get...interesting: where it's all news to me and where...you just never know.