RANCHO TRAVELLO

Dear Everyone,

We had a great time but are exhausted. Merry Christmas and Happy New Year.

The end.

Of course, I'm exaggerating but not by much. It has been a productive but exhausting month long period. We were busier than a pick pocket at Mardi Gras to start with and not much has changed after returning. We had to hit the deck a'runnin' (well....a'shufflin' anyway. We plumb ran out of "run" because we had none).

The ranch hands had to ready for the yard sale, conduct the sale, and clean up the yard sale. All of this was done while totally physically trashed and under the gun of an inclement weather forecast.

Then, after beating the rain, we immediately had to prepare for our vacation trip. We went from racking, packing, loading, and stacking to…..racking, packing, loading, and stacking trying to beat the clock this time instead of the weather. We could see ourselves getting into the van and just sleeping the entire first day in the driveway prior to even moving a tire.

With all four tires moving, we had hoped to make it to Redding the first day. That didn't happen. So, we settled in for the night at Williams which is a small town that's about an hour north of Sacramento and the end of about 6  hours of driving for us (hauling a trailer). I knew from experience that an hour or so past Redding (about 1 1/2 hours north of Williams) was the half-way point to Longview, WA but didn’t mind that we would be getting there a little later in the evening than planned.

The next day, after an uneventful nice drive, we got to see son, Michael, who is doing well despite the recent loss of his wife, Roxanne. She was only 38 years old when she collapsed from a cardio-pulmonary embolism. Mike is holding up well and staying in church and connected with his church family. We didn't get to spend as much time as we had desired but at least got to visit on both days we were there.

On Tuesday at 6PM was Roxanne's memorial service. It was a very nice service, indeed, and many of Mike and Roxanne's friends and some of his family was there (her dad was unable to make the long trip from NV or would have been there). There was a pot-luck afterwards and folks had the opportunity to sit and visit. Mike got to see his mother, Vicki, and brother, Jason, whom he hadn't seen in several years. 

It was good to see old friends at the service like Linda Shepherd who I had known while living there. She and her husband, Jim, were on staff at the Community House on Broadway when I worked there and she has remained a dear friend. 

Also in Longview is Jeff Edgecomb who is a long time friend and fellow ham radio operator. He showed us the awesome com-van he is building for local search and rescue use. The local Ham Radio club is heavily involved in emergency communications with the Sheriff's Dept. Jeff is very prominent in that project and service.  

We all got to go out for lunch at my favorite chicken place, "Speedy Chicken" there in Longview. I'm not sure what they do to make their chicken so marvelous, but I'm thankful to have found it and head straight there if possible. I did not leave the place hungry.

Unfortunately, after two days, we couldn't spend any more time there and had to be in Marysville, WA that evening. It seemed more like a drive-by hugging than a visit. Jeff recommended that we depart a bit early so as to avoid the fast approaching storm. We did and we beat the storm (by being north of it) while Longview got clobbered.

In Marysville, we met up with Connie's daughter, Brandi, and Brian, Brandi's long-time special gentleman, and Brandi's son, Cade (“Cade-ster” or “Turbo” depending upon the source). Cade’s grandma, “Honey”, had promised to help him host his first ever yard sale (he’s 8 so he may as well start sooner than later, eh?). That, actually, was half the reason we took “Dumbo”, our 5’ x 8’ covered trailer, so we could haul yard sale stuff to sell (the other reason being to haul stuff to Connie’s brother’s place in Kingsbury, TX).

Connie got everything ready and put the tables on the front porch and staged stuff for the dawn set-up. The next morning, “Californy Connie” got a rather non-California shock (unless, of course, you live in Truckee or such); it was 17 degrees out there! There was ice on her tables too! Despite the rather chilly environment, they made nearly 50 bucks so that got his attention.

The next couple of days and nights were spent more or less concurrently with Connie's son, Tracey, his wife, Erika, and their sons, Jeffrey, Evan, and  Ethan, and with Brandi, Brian, and Cade as her work schedule allowed. We had only seen Tracey's 2 year old son, Evan, but once since he was born so grandma Connie got to hold the little guy a bit.

Brandi hooked all of us up with an unreal eatery called, "The Flaming Onion" where they make hamburgers to die for served with....hang on to your buffalo blanket, chief....unlimited fries! We knocked over that place the two nights that we were there and managed to wreck a couple of great pizzas at local pizza palace while we were in the mood to chew.

After having grand fellowship with the folks in WA, we saddled up and headed diagonally across the nation 2,000 miles to Abilene, TX. Taking that route saved us at least one full day of driving. I had been some of that route in ’91 when I moved from OR to Tulsa. That particular route diverted at Salt Lake City. Instead of heading east from SLC and into WYO like I did in '91, we headed southeast directly for I-40 at Santa Rosa, NM from Provo (a right fer piece at about 670 miles).

That entire route is “high desert”. I didn’t know that but quickly discovered that fact and just as quickly understood that the “high desert” in November is also “colder’n a well digger’s destination”.  In Farmington, NM, we awakened to a rather crisp -2 degrees day. My hot coffee surely did me much good that day.

Anyway, we saw a lot of Utah's and New Mexico's rocks, tumbleweeds, mesquite, and such for a long long time. Still, I had never been to that exact part of those states and wanted to see that part of our country. I had been across part of the top of UT in '91 and had been from Salt Lake City to St. George (SW from SLC) when returning to CA from Rawlins, WY in ’59. We spent the night in Santa Rosa after almost eleven hours of driving and were absolutely bushed. 

The next morning was also a rather brisk one but the hot breakfast of biscuits and gravy, sausages, eggs, and toast helped to assuage the chill, don'tcha know. We loaded up our gear and headed south towards Clovis and then Lubbock. 

With that much driving time and with so little to look at, we spent a lot of time listening to tapes of the Old Testament. We always learn a lot from listening to the Bible on cassette but this time we got a lesson in "smiting". Man! There was a whole lot of smiting going on back then! Og, king of the Tushbites, would smite Haydad the Hodad, king of the Troglodytes and haul off all kinds of booty including the women (am I being redundant?). Then, later, the Cellulites would be tired of being slaves to the Acolytes and they would start a rebellion that included a lot more smiting, looting, and trying to get the other guy's booty (seems not much has changed in three thousand years, eh?).

If that's not enough to make you hug a Hittite, King Jehoshaphat (you may remember him as the "jumping king") had a run in with the old prophet Kawlijah (you know; the one that Hank Williams' wooden Indian was named after) who called fire down from heaven and roasted a hundred arrogant and armed soldiers where they stood.  Of course, the queen, Jezzy Belle, was infuriated because the event had fused her two platoons into ponds of molten grease with sandals floating in them. She was fried that her soldiers got fried and ordered poor Ol' Kawlijah killed. He escaped but later had to contend with the Electrolytes (hmmmm..... maybe it was the Parasites). They were the ones who worshipped the idol, Sudoku, about whom we know very little and even that is puzzling.

Anyway, the Children of Israel ended up in being led into captivity by King Neebookaneezer to Babylon. That's where they grew hanging gardens because land prices had skyrocketed. They just had to improvise by growing everything in pots on the walls suspended by camel hide ropes. Very creative, those Babylonians. 

 Now, by about that time, everyone was clean out of booty because Neebookaneezer had it all and he wasn't about to share any of it or give any of it back. Never had there ever been such a lack of booty in all the land. In fact, the shortage was so severe that they were actually sacrificing animals to the booty gods to rectify the matter. My guess is that they had to send their own army led by Captains, Urshack, Myshack, and Tobedwego,  to some far away land and get some booty for the folks back home hoping that their gods would help smite their adversaries. 

Moving along (thankfully).....Santa Rosa, NM to Abilene was the last leg at the end of that new day. I had miscalculated our arrival by a tad or two (I'm usually off by somewhere between tad one and tad two) so had to re-text Jeff about our ETA. Well, come to find out, I had miscalculated by a third tad (I hate it when I do that) and had to re-text that we would be there even earlier than anticipated. We rolled into Jeff and Sandra's later in the afternoon and limped to the door with a bunch of tired and achy muscles.

We instantly set off Jeff's 160 lb home alarm system. "Izzy", the great Dane, heard and smelled us from her watch post in the garage and alerted the neighborhood (and the city, and the county....biiiiig dog) that we had arrived. She had checked us out but the one time a few years ago so didn't remember us.

It was great to see everyone! Our grandson, Randall Lee Minnick (has kind of a ring to it, eh?), had grown to the 6’ mark. Despite my warnings of the hazards of allowing teens access to a fork, seems someone has been feeding him. He's not merely tall; he's also quite the sharp Ginzu knife and very very talented. Among other things, he's a "Yugio" champ and is quite respected in the local gaming circle. 

Speaking of "food", one place that I always head to when in Abilene is "Grandy's". Son, Jeff, Connie, and I made sure that we made it to the all you can eat breakfast buffet. Their buffet is hard to beat despite their scrambled eggs qualifying for either land fill or EPA Super Fund Clean Up services. Scrambled eggs are not supposed to rattle when you swallow them and bounce when they hit bottom. But........I'll be back.

Since daughter-in-law, Sandra, was booked at another event/dinner (Sandra is one busy lady!), Connie, Jeff, Randall, and I made it to "Fuzzy's Taco Shop" for dinner where I ate my first crawdad taco. It was quite tasty though a bit short of substance. The meat was hidden in a mass of filling but was otherwise good. The Lord willing and the Creek don't rise, on our next trip, we'll take on one of the local roadhouses and stick a knife into a steak.

I had hoped to catch up to a couple of other marvy places while on this trip. Sadly, Harlain's and Howard's eateries are no longer part of the Abilene scene and I sorely miss them. They were both part of my early "Abilene experience" and they had made a great impression upon my palate and tongue.

Wouldn't you know that someone would park an estate sale right in front of us as we traveled one of the main drags there. As you may suspect, we cleaned up! Connie was trying to buy stuff and the nice lady would keep lowering the price until the lady thought it was fair enough. I saw a stack of 6 rods and reels and 6 rods for sale for 5 dollars each. I asked the gent in charge, "If I promise to buy a lot of other stuff, would you sell me all of those rods and reels for 20 bucks?". He advised, "Yep. Sure would". So, I hauled them off and stuck them in the back of Dumbo. Always take a trailer to an estate sale, I always say. We got fishing gear, fabric, vintage pyrex kitchenware, bric-a-brack, tools, hardware supplies, Corningware, and what all! It was great!

After two days of fellowship, foodship, and getting caught up on family things, it was huggies all around  time. We loaded up and were BOI and headed out for Kingsbury, TX. Kingsbury is 5 hours of driving further south (keeping in mind we're still pulling Dumbo which makes the air much more difficult to push aside).

We rolled into Roger's place that evening around 9PM. Roger and his very special lady, Charlotte, met us. It was really cool to get to finally know her. We had talked to Charlotte on the phone many times but had not had the opportunity to meet her. So, when we did, we just adopted her and she adopted us! It didn't take long at all! We're all family now!

As a quick aside: Roger's place is also the site of the "Pioneer Flight Museum" which is an excellent and extraordinary parcel of Texas soil!! Antique and vintage aircraft are displayed and operated alongside period autos. You haven't had fun until you've driven a Model T Ford! This place is a sight to behold when they have their semi-annual air shows (more on this subject later)! Check'em out!: http://pioneerflightmuseum.org .

We could only visit a short time that night since Rog and Charlotte are early risers. That worked for us since it had been a long trip and we were ready to head to the bunkhouse too. We advised ahead of time that we would not be early risers but to leave the coffee pot on anyway and we'll catch up whenever our bodies decided to cooperate with our agenda.

The bunkhouse was brother Chris's FEMA castle. He and other brother, Steve, purchased two nice large trailers from the government and moved them to the airport. We stay in one or the other when we're back there. They sit out quite a distance from anyone so it's really nice and quiet. It so quiet most of the time that you can hear a frog hiccup at a hundred yards. 

In the morning, after cracking our eyelids and redirecting our duck back to his assigned row, we finally got to visit and get caught up. It took the next two days and we weren't even close to being finished. It was a great time! It's just such precious time with our family that makes our efforts worth it all.

Some of our visiting, of course, included reacquainting ourselves with the great Chinese buffet in Seguin about ten minutes away. They have those excellent spicy steamed crawdads that I’d been wanting to re-engage for quite awhile. I don't recall that we've been here but once that we didn't go there and I think it's because they hadn't built the place yet! There's another Chinese buffet down the street which does a great job but this newer and rather larger place seems to be a magnet for hungry folks.

Though we missed all inclement weather while driving, there was a beautiful T-Storm on the Saturday that we were in Kingsbury. I love T-Storms (please don’t tell my psychiatrist). Anyway, when Sunday rolled around, the skies were clear and bright and the temp was warm and comfy. I would have been somewhat disappointed not to have experienced a nice thunder-buster even if it was only a small one.

We visited a United Methodist Church with Charlotte and had an excellent time. They are a bunch of super nice folks that I would love to be neighbors with. They are just as super nice as the folks at the other Methodist church in Prairie Lea ( about ten minutes or "just short of an axle greasin'" from Kingsbury). We visited that church three years ago when there.

After church, we had lunch (have I mentioned that food is my friend?) then visited as much as possible. Charlotte whipped up a batch of lasagna for the crowd which we quickly disposed of (have I mentioned that lasagna is my friend?). It seemed like the clock was spinning like a fan because, in short order, our time there had ended. 

Monday morning after breakfast, Connie and I packed up the mules and departed. It was “hugs all around” and we were BOI (back on the Interstate). We were just 1,500 miles from home. 

We took the same route out as we took in because it is the shortest distance. In between Abilene and Kingsbury is a smallish town called "Fredericksburg". Though out in the middle of nowhere and a bit beyond, it is a "hub of happening" all of the time. Make a quick note that Fredericksburg is far far away from any sizable amount of water. For now, I'll spare everyone the details but this is the hometown of Fleet Adm. Chester W. Nimitz, the commander of the Navy's Pacific fleet during WW2. Guess where they parked the museum that is named after him? Yep....right there in Fredericksburg pretty far from any significant body of water. So, guess what Ol' Ran and his trusty side-cook, Connie, did? Yep, again.....we visited this excellent WW2 museum and even took a few pictures.

It took the usual 3 days to get home. It was our “day off” and we were not in a hurry. Nevertheless, we stayed in the saddle for ten hours or so per day so we could ensure arriving home somewhat early (so we could get ready for church and such). The first night on the road was spent in Grants, NM and the second in Kingman, AZ. 

 The entire drive was uneventful until we hit Bakersfield where we created an “event”. We laid waste to the  “Golden Corral” buffet for our Thanksgiving dinner. That was nice. They put on a feast not to be equaled even by “Home Town Buffet”. We celebrated T-Day at a HTB in Riverside, CA a few years ago on an even longer return trip from back east. But, "Golden Corral" is my favorite regardless of holidays. I’m going out of my way to go back down there…..soon.

I’ve driven “straight through” to Abilene from Porterville once…just once….and that being the last time. In 2000, my shiny new A/C compressor locked up on Highway 58 directly across from Edwards AFB. It was the middle of June and more than 100 degrees out there in the middle of Nowheresville. There was no way I was going to drive through the deserts of the southwest any more than I had to during the daytime in the summer! I simply had to drive at night and bear up under the brutal daytime conditions by keeping my soda cup filled and the windows open. I made it to Abilene just in time for a long nap.

The van rolled into the driveway at home at about 6:40 PM or so. It may sound goofy but we were in bed at 7:30 PM. That has never happened before and I hope that it never happens again. We were simply exhausted. I slept for two days and nights; I didn’t even do that when in the hospital!

We’re still unpacking and such. I’ve got a ton of stuff to do and a ton of computers to work on (not a complaint) in addition to overhauling my computer which crashed. Connie’s computer needs to be tinkered with and I have two other personal boxes that need attention. We have clients calling and that's a good thing. Things should be back to normal but who knows how soon.

Springville has seen a bit of rain so our region is starting to green up. That is a most welcomed relief for us who have simply tired of living in an area that looks like a pizza that has been left in the oven for a couple of days. The forecast shows at least some small amount is due here soon. I can set out my new fruit trees and a few new vines because the ground will be soft. As it is, it's harder than concrete. Given enough rain and a bit of preparation by the old folks, Rancho Relaxo should be braced and ready for the next summer which will be here in only a few months.

That also means that we are "winterizing" the ranch and that also means that we're "Christmas-izing" the ranch. Connie has taken to the task with a vengeance and has started stringing lights and pulling the decorations from their nesting place in the barn. This is concurrent with stowing stuff..still...from the yard sale (*SIGH*). It's a never ending battle to preserve the "Rancho Relaxo Way" (which, you'll be pleased to know, is close kin to the "Cowboy Way").

There you have it; the latest adventures of "Ramblin' Ran and Cruising Connie". Stay tuned as you just never know where our Pirelli Tires will take us. Things could get ....interesting.

RANCHO EXHAUSTO!

Man!! It’s been a long long month! In fact, I think this wasn’t an ordinary month; I think it was actually 60 days long! It certainly seemed that long to my exhausted airframe and aching muscles! UGH.

 Things started out smoothly enough, I suppose, but we had little hint of the “interesting” things to come. Who could suspect that we would soon be charter members of “Richard Simmons’ Rack, Pack, and Stack Weight Loss and Body Abuse Program”?

That “program” has just concluded. We quit! NO MAS! That was brutal! There is every reason to believe that this will be the last of the “pay me to abuse myself” yard sales for Ol’ Ran and his side-cook, Connie the Canner. I think we’ll just supervise next time! I’ll even spring for the pulled pork. But, I’m sure that I will leave the expending of mega-joules of perfectly good energy to others who haven’t wised up to the benefits of conserving such a precious commodity.

We started by hauling stuff around from storage in the barn and out back. “Out back” is the colloquial term we here at "Sanford and Son's" use for any place at, around, or near the back yard that can accommodate our yard sale treasures until they can be exhibited for sale. Most others call it a “junk yard” but, hey, what do they know?

After hauling, there’s the arranging. This year we personally had almost 20 tables on which to stack stuff and lacked space for 50 more boxes of stuff!! We never did get it all displayed for lack of room!!

Nevertheless, the visitors were completely unconcerned about our space shortage and threw money at us anyway (we didn't duck!). There were so many people that showed up that many were saying that the main event in Springville wasn’t the “Apple Festival” but our yard sale! Amazing!

Part of that dynamic was the fact that our next door neighbor is a professional seller who buys and sells everything from yard sales to storage rooms. And, he owns an auction house in town. He also had a huge sale at his place (he has since moved so it isn’t likely that next year’s event will be quite so large). If that isn’t enough to make waves in your gravy, the neighbors across the street set up a yard sale and vendor lot in their front yard! We think that some of the vendors who would have ordinarily set up booths at the festival set up shop there. There’s more room, just as much foot traffic (probably even more!), and much more room! Makes sense to me.

For three very long days we sold stuff and more stuff by the ton! It think this entire part of the Valley is completely stuffed out by now and won’t need any more stuff at least until next October!

There was a sad note, of course. Folks noticed that Maggie the Wonder Dog wasn't there to greet everyone. We had to advise that her career had ended. All agreed that she would be sorely missed and were saddened at her demise.

Then, Monday showed up. That was the day we checked for missing parts on our sore bodies. Even though they were all accounted for, we were fairly certain that the count was off at least a tad (though it felt like two tads to me).  We were really sloooooow to get things tidied up afterwards for two reasons. One was that we simply had run out of spizzerinctum. In case you don’t know what that is, it’s when Texans have a mouth full of barbequed brisket and don’t want to waste any of it by spitting it on a nearby soul by trying to say that word. They merely say, “ he’s tuckered” instead of using "He's plumb run out of spizzerinctum" in a longer sentence. Those Texans are pretty sharp folks if you asked me.

Another reason we were slow to pull up stakes is that people still stopped by for the entire next week to buy stuff!! Guess they hadn’t heard the word that the Valley had already been filled up with …stuff. That worked for us because, during the next week, we actually sold an additional 500 dollars worth of ….stuff (I’m not making this ..stuff…up).

All told we made enough to cover the expenses for the vacation to WA and Texas! After the pain in our bodies and souls is assuaged, I suspect that the need for a quick cash infusion to pull off a vacation may lure us back into the personal physical abuse profession yet again. We’ll see.

My guess is that the dynamic is much like having a baby. After going through the labor pains and delivery, no one in their right mind actually wants to do that again! In fact, I think that the government is lacing our drinking water and sodas with a “feggettabouttit” drug of some kind so that women won’t remember that sane people don’t do such things on purpose. Anyway, after the pain and mess is behind us, we probably will hatch another yard sale scheme and fall into our own trap. That's gotta be a cry for help. *SIGH*.

That takes us to week two; that’s clean up week. Keep in mind that we had not really recovered from “work week” yet. No, we weren’t baby sitting the place as during the sale. But, we had to stay close to home if we could. And, we still had to attend to the computer business and church. “Long days and short nights” sort of sums up the deal. We were already bushed coming into the clean up part. I felt like I had gone six rounds with Tyson and lost both ears in the match!   

Ah; and there was a catch. There’s always a catch. This time it was a weather forecast that predicted rain. How about that? No rain for 8 months and …..it rains during clean up week! So, old slow-boat-to-China had to get a move on and get stuff stowed; there were only two days to work with!

Now, Ol’ Ran doesn’t like doing two week’s work in just a few days. His body votes against him every time he even thinks about such silliness. But, since I just happened to have a "Federal" brand .357 caliber bullet handy, I had to bite that bullet and git’r’done”. Well, my gitter was rather rusty and in need of repair so I knew that this could be a real “event” of some sort. It wasn't a pretty sight at all.  My bet is that there were folks swearing that they had seen Grandpa McCoy limping around the place.

Stuff that didn’t sell (I’m truly getting tired of that word, aren’t you?) had to be either hauled off to a friend’s perennial yard sale or tossed into “Heffalump” for storage (that’s our big white 6’ x 12’ covered trailer, in case you didn’t know). Other stuff (sorry) had to be tossed into “Dumbo” for the trip. “Dumbo” is our beautiful newer 5’ x 8’ covered trailer. We’ll be pulling it to WA and TX. Connie advised some friends that it looked like “Heffalump’s” baby so we named it “Dumbo”.  

Next, we had to haul other things (“Thank you, Brother Randy!”) back into the barn and others went onto our large back covered patio. But, not until a large stash of boxes was parked under the carport to protect them from the looming threat of precipitation. These will alll be dealt with at a later time when at least most of our body is operating nominally (which could take awhile....I was thinking perhaps less than a year).

Then, the trash and the huge supply of empty boxes had to be manhandled. Boy, that was fun. That’s right up there with pulling blackberry bushes up with your bare hands. Thankfully, we were able to conscript a couple of fellas who were willing to trade some sweat for a few ducats which really helped us more than a metric ton.

By the night of the rain (10PM now and still waiting for the first drop that was supposed to be here no later than 6PM), Ol’ Ran and his faithful sidecook, could barely move our sternocleidomasoid muscles. We could breathe but it hurt to do that too.

Speaking of rain, the forecast is for 100% rain tonight. We are supposed to get at least ½” and perhaps more. It’s about time! The city fathers were getting ready to change the name of my home town to “Pruneville”. That’s not good. 

Not long ago it seems that I overheard a guy saying that we had been without rain for so long that he was ready to sacrifice his virgin daughter to the goddess, Pele, but that he couldn’t afford the round trip airfare to Hawaii. Maybe he hit the lotto, someone bought his tickets, or maybe there’s another dynamic at play here (as in many many folks praying). In any case, it will be great to get our area wet again. It’s been so bad that our green frogs are turning brown to match our lawns. We suck up so much dirty air around here that, when we sneeze, everyone ducks to avoid supersonic dirt clods. It’s not a pretty sight.

 In a couple of months, in all likelihood, we’ll have our greenness back and the river will be a real river again with water in it. And, we will have disengaged our short term memory insuring failure. We will have forgotten the hardships of spring, summer, and most of fall. All of God's "chillin'" will rejoice at the moisture and relish the coolness of the winter and early spring. Life will be good again.

So, there you have it, neighbors; the latest from Rancho Dusto and its ranch hands, Ol’ Ran and his sidecook, Sweeter’n Honey Connie. Things are likely to get….interesting… and soon at that because we’ll be headin’ out for yonder on November 9^th. There’ll be lots to share.

Rancho Updato Para Octobre

Well, ….September has been…interesting. It has been a very busy month, for one thing. That certainly isn’t any kind of a complaint at all. I don’t like just vegging except with the intent of purposeful Sabbath rest (like taking a good nap when necessary - which such naps seem to be…. now that I’m old enough recognize a “good thing” when I see it). There is no moss on my hoss ‘cause I don’t think it’s necessary. The computer biz is steady and I rejoice in that. The church is prospering and I am utterly blessed to proclaim that fact.

Also, we just lost our daughter-on-law, Roxanne, on Friday the 26^th. She experienced a cardio-pulmonary embolism. That’s the sudden affliction that paramedics wryly call “vapor lock”. She was but 38 years old and had been in good health on the whole. Certainly, no one expected such a phenomenon that would end her life at such an age.

Roxanne (thou shalt not call her “Roxy” or thou shalt risk dismemberment) was a “cat person”. She had recently lost her long-time feline friend to old age and had found replacement that she and Mike were breaking in. She loved staying in contact with her Facebook friends too. I recall her popping in on the instant messenger service from time to time to say “Hi” and stay in touch. We're going to miss our gal. I wish that we could have said "goodbye". 

Because of her demise, I have a sneaky suspicion that there could be some changes at Rancho Relaxo occurring within a few months. We’ll see. I’ll keep us all posted, to be sure (I need to know these things too).

The certainty of the end of this fleshly existence has always been on fairly prominent display in my life. For instance, you don’t have to be in the ambulance business long before you get the picture that humans are a frail and fragile lot. Some folks just don’t grasp that concept early on and then lose their already fleeting life when they push their luck with youthful antics and foolishness. Many were the times when my partner and I would have to see people deal with the unexpected interruption of life of a loved one.  You don’t ever forget such things.

Sometimes the end would be tragic while, at other times, it would be the expected-but-still-difficult loss of a life blessed enough to have experienced fulfillment (e.g. grandparent, great-grand parent, et. al.). It's always rough no matter what. 

Even after I retired from the paramedical profession I couldn’t seem to get away from confrontations with tragedy and loss. It seems like I was always getting bad news from all over the place. Nothing has changed and nothing will change; we’re all….humans (though from time to time I give my wife reason to suspect that I have at least 50% gorilla DNA).

The earliest that I recall having close contact with the “Grim Reaper” was in 1960 when my great-grand mother, Margaret “Ma” Sanders died. She was on her way to church when she slipped into eternity from the rear seat of the car in which she was riding. The elderly couple who had picked her up knew only to bring her home and call an ambulance.  I still see her slumped over with her head against the corner as we waited for “Imperial Ambulance” to arrive. That picture has never faded. She was 70 years old. Of course, that was ancient to an 11 year old boy but not so much now that I’m a 65 year old….great-grandfather. 

As an aside, only 8 years later, I would make my first ambulance calls as an attendant with the same “Imperial Ambulance” in Porterville (thank you, Emmy). That experience led me to quite-rewarding paramedical opportunities within only a few years of that inauspicious start of a young man in possession of an “Advanced First Aid” card (thank you, Mr. Lofton). My life was never and will never be the same after that. 

Like most folks, funerals were a part of my life in general whether it be for a near a relative or a close friend. My dad died in April of 1979 when he was 52 years old. In December of that same year, my brother, David, died. Within a few years after that, other near kin passed away. And, guess what? They continued to do that and, in fact, are still doing that.  Amazing, eh? OK; moving along.  

Our big annual “Apple Festival” yard sale is looming on the calendar. It is the largest yard sale event in this entire country! Last year we had 22 vendors and it looks like we will have no fewer sellers this time!  Connie asked one lady how she like the “Apple Festival”. She looked her right straight in the eyes and said, “I don’t come up here for that. I come up here for this yard sale”! What a hoot.

We’ll kick this thing off on the 17^th of October but we will need to set up our stuff on Wednesday and Thursday prior to the weekend. It takes at least that long to get ready. Connie has actually been preparing since the last yard sale! She prices every single item!! I’m preparing two crockpots full of pulled pork for lunch and probably a barrel of chili con carne for the second day. Not sure about the third day. We’ll all be so tired we may just eat cold wieners served with a can of pork and beans. Everyone will have to open their own bag of chips and probably the beans.

Despite the fact that we’ll feel like sleeping for two days straight (I kid thee negative), we need to take at least a week to clean up the mess afterwards. That will please Connie to no end because, for now, she says we look like “Sanford and Son” out back (I kid thee negative a second time). If it weren’t for the fact that most of the stuff will sell and be converted to gasoline for the trip, it would have already been converted into smoke and ashes.

She said with much dismay that it looked like a bunch of rednecks lived here what with having all that stuff out there. However, I was only ready to call us “pink necks” until today. “What happened today?”, you say? I’m glad you asked. We bought out another yard sale. Now it looks like a bunch of rednecks live around here.

We just couldn’t help it! These nice people were throwing stuff at us and we didn’t dare duck! I noted that we would probably only have to sell four things in the haul to easily return our investment. That leaves a trailer load and most of the van load of stuff that will fetch a tidy profit.

Anyway, even after we close down, people will still be stopping by for days and buying things! These are the folks who hadn’t heard about it, didn’t have time to come, or are passing through. We….ahem….clean up!

So, we’ll be hustling to get things tidied up for the trip but also because we need to fetch cousin, Monty Mitchell, from Eureka, CA. He’s moving back to Porterville to be closer to a larger family contingency (shiny new and late model grandkids will do that to you, eh). The round trip from here to Eureka and back, by the way, is the same distance as driving to Portland and most of the way to Eugene, OR. That means that, in addition to being a place stuffed full of fruits, nuts, flakes, and other loony tune characters (especially the one’s running it), California is a rather big state. For the inquiring mind, it’s 770 miles from boot sole to bandana. That’s just short of the distance from New York City to Charleston, SC.

Within a couple of weeks of that “driving practice” event, we’ll need to head to Longview, Washington to be there for Roxanne’s memorial service. While up there, of course, we’ll see the rest of the kids and grandkids in Marysville and Mount Vernon. And, wait folks; there’s more!  If the Gypsies don’t catch up to us, we’ll strike out from Washington and wend our way to Texas.

 I just love to wend, don’t you? In fact, I think I’ll just write a song and call it “Wend Across Texas”. I can hear it now, “Wend across Texas with you in my arms. Wend across Texas with you”. Now, I’m no Ernest Tubb, but that has a nice ring to it, don’tcha think?

Due to time restraints, we may not be able to make it to see the folks in Kansas, Illinois, and Oklahoma but we’ll see. I will lament that to no end but I’m just not sure we can over come the calendar (does this mean that we're....un-wending....them?). For that matter, we may not be able to even see everyone in Texas that we mean to see. In any case, I shouldn’t wonder that my cheeks are starting to quiver in dread. That there is going to be a long trip, pilgrims.

Speaking of the drought (which I wasn’t exactly doing), things are now dryer here at the Rancho than a pet peacock buried with Ramses II. We’ve managed to dodge most of the bullet but we still got “winged”, though. Our front lawn looks like we stuck it in a Breville Toaster Oven on “broil” and then forgot about for a few days.

There is just enough trickle coming from our irrigation source to keep most of our plants from becoming weeds but not enough to green things up. I just purchased a ball check valve so I can charge the irrigation line with well water and avoid the siphon effect. I don’t mind mixing river water with well water if I have too. The river water would pass through three course filters and a full-residential charcoal filter before wetting our lips. So, there’s not much of a chance of getting a crawdad stuck in our teeth.

 I need to get a man right on that because my orange trees are starting to stress and they loose a lot of sleep when they’re upset at me. They’re not much fun to be around when they’re like that.

The grape vines seem to abide with the trickle of water they get. They still refuse to grow but ever so little but at least they don’t just pull a bullfrog on me and…..drum roll please….croak. I guess we don’t need no stinking grass because there just isn’t any. Dead grass doesn’t get to vote so things will be OK for awhile, I suppose.

We just did something at the ranch that I could have sweared (similar to sworn but with emphasis) we would never have done. We are starting to convert to …..plug your ears; the gasp is deafening….LED lighting! I truly thought that Connie would convert to Islam before that would happen. I don’t mean to be an old Luddite; I really really don’t. However, I do hate change. There’s simply no need for nasty unscrupulous modifiers to “fix” things that aren’t broken simply for the sake of change. I'm perfectly happy with my Tinker Toys, Erector Sets, and smoke signals and drums so they can leave me alone. 

There must be at least 50 (cartons of four) of incandescent bulbs growing hair out in the barn. Most likely, they will be used as some kind of historical display in a museum somewhere. It will, no doubt, be a diorama about old fuddy duddies like me who wasted energy by warming up their room with watt-gobbling devices that heated their room in the summer time while they were wiring tin cans together for their intercom system.

But, as Dillon said, “The Times, They Are A’changin’” and Ol’ Ran is changing too (albeit, slower than the metabolism of a sarlaac in the Great Pit of Carkoon on the planet Tatooine). When our electrician installed a big LED over the Baptistry at church, I was so impressed that I was almost stunned! It wasn’t the goofy and ghostly bluish light that I thought it would be! I hate that! Instead, it was the nice bright and warm glow that is easily confused with an incandescent bulb! I went straightaway to Lowe’s and bought four nice LED lights for my office! Now, I’m saving money and not heating my office!! Ain’t I a….bright boy?

The heat's on so stay tuned for the (insert adjective) adventures of Rusto Ran and his side-cook,  Ol’ Cinders Minnick. Things could get….interesting.   

So Long Maggie

This is what Connie and I call "Maggie's Lips". She had a toy that was a large set of lips and teeth. It was a riot to see her with this thing!

• Below is Mag with her stuffed toy. She would get one then dutifully dismember it's eyes and nose then keep it until we sneaked a different one in on her. We got them at yard sales for next to nothing so she always had something to play with. When she brought one to us, it was time for tug-o-war and fetch.

Here's the Wonder Dog baby sitting some leaves while she's on guard to defend us from the next golf cart that comes along. We live about a mile from River Island Golf Course so a cart will come by from time to time. She hated those things for some reason.

Magga-saurus after an obviously difficult night
guarding Rancho Relaxo. 


Magga-saurus after another obviously difficult night
guarding Rancho Relaxo. This happens a lot.

                                                                            















Maggie the Wonder Dog guarding the front yard. Not much ever got by her. We've never been invaded by the Japanese and no Gypsies ever got down the driveway that we can tell. You can see why; just look at this ferocious specimen who is diligently on guard! And, despite the fact that we never gave her any garlic, not a single vampire has been seen on or near our property!!

 They say that “all good things must come to an end”. That is, indeed, the case at the Ol’ Ranch. There wasn’t anything gooder than Maggie the Wonder Dog but we had to say “good-bye” to her. She  died Thursday night. As you may imagine, it’s been a long and sad day.

It’s hard to part with such a friend as Maggie. She was always there as part and parcel of the ranch and certainly a part of our hearts. Day or night, rain or shine, rare was the time that she wasn’t joyously waggin’ her shaggy flag and greeting us when we came home. When we returned from a weeks-long trip away from home, she was overjoyed to see us again. She would even haul one of her prized doggie bone treats out for us just about each time we came home. We would gleefully receive them then she would gleefully take them back.

Then, there were the regular tussles to see just who would get the prized stuffed toy. Mag would bring her stuffed toy over and the war was on. I would grab it and toss it into the next county and she would fetch it and then would hand it back but wouldn’t let go. Ah, the tug-o-war was on! After we were both worn out, she would let loose and she would let me win and I would toss my hard-won prize “out yonder” and she would race after it to rescue it.

Maggie was the official greeter at our annual yard sales. She absolutely loved her position. When one of our regular participants found out that she was gong to be missing at the next sale he noted that it just wasn't going to be the same without her and kiddingly said we should cancel the program. She was that loved by all.  

Maggie's "Aunt Joyce", our neighbor, was saddened as well. It was she who tended to Mag when we were out of town. Joyce has recently lost a dog of her own and two prior to that so was quite empathetic with our loss.

She had not been feeling well for more than a week. She began coughing and her respiratory rate was rapid and shallow. That was concurrent with a loss of appetite and lethargy. She did appear to be hydrated (and we saw her drinking water) so we figured that there was little about which to be concerned and that whatever it was that was ailing her would soon pass.

Much of her day times were spent lying in the shade. There was no pep in her step on the whole but a couple of days ago, it appeared that she was getting better.  Last night, she was lying in the front yard in one of her usual parking places. Though appearing to be about same as usual, I guess I knew that she wasn’t going to be with us much longer. I loved on her a lot and told her how much we loved her and how much we appreciated her and her love and her dedication to us. She soaked it all up and loved me back with a lick or two. You could see in her eyes that she was so sorry that she had to leave. She knew. I did too….but didn’t want to.

This morning (Friday), when I went outside to check on her, I found her lying still on the front porch directly under our bedroom window. Though leaving, she wanted us to know that she loved us and wanted to be near us and that she was doing her best to be a good guard dog.

We certainly had our faith on the line for our love dog. Our dog is blessed and we couldn’t think of any reasons for our beloved pet to suffer illness. But, we had to do the math and we were rather shocked at what the numbers added up to: Maggie was around 18 years old! We staggered at that revelation because, other than a little graying around the muzzle, she had not shown much aging hardly at all! She had always been so spry and alert that it hadn’t occurred to us that the dog could simply be wearing out! Of course, I had been searching the Net about the symptoms and the picture quickly became quite clear: Maggie had been presenting all of the symptoms of congestive heart failure. It became obvious that we didn’t have a failure of faith; we merely had a failure to do our math. She had been utterly healthy her entire life; her heart simply gave out.  

Rancho Tostado is now Rancho Crispo. When we walk across the lawn, it’s like walking on Kellog’s Rice Krispies. Our “ditch water” (river water channeled to us via the “Pleasant Valley Ditch Company”) used for irrigation is “on 3 days and off 6” but….I hate buts….hardly any water is entering our water gate! That leaves us with “drip irrigation” at best! There’s not enough water pressure to even push a sprinkler! I will attempt to install a lift pipe of some sort so that we can get water into the gate so our weir will fill and we can get enough water pressure to run at least a couple of sprinklers and a couple of drippers.

Our casualty list is fairly short: we lost a few of our small fruit trees. That really hadn’t been thriving anyway but it still fries me. It isn’t the end of the world but we’re going to have to stay alert with a water can handy if needs be and keep the rest of our trees from getting too thirsty and croaking on us.

Today was “Yard Sale Saturday”. I had hoped for “Boxer Saturday” but that didn’t happen. Connie and I have been looking forward to this for a few days since we hatched the idea to go to Costco in Visalia. We are usually able to knock over a yard sale or two if we stumble into them but haven’t had a dedicated yard sale day in quite awhile. We were not disappointed!

The first yard sales were in Springville. As usual, we harvested incredible blessings! One stop was the first of two “moving sales” and it was “home run” time. We got all kinds of great stuff there. Connie got four cases of canning jars for less than the price of one case at Wal-Mart! They had been used as part of a theme setting for a wedding and had candles in the mouth of some and dried corn in others while the rest were empty.

Another score was a bunch of new burlap bolt cloth for next to nothing. I ended up with two Galaxy mobile CB units for peanuts because the guy at the moving sale didn’t want to mess with them. I’m setting aside a box of CB radios and am testing them and mating them with antennas. The time may soon come when we will need them. Included in the pile was a new-in-the-box Dell printer. The box hadn’t even been opened and I got it for chump change. The list goes on and on. A lot of the stuff we will keep, of course, but some will be eBay and Craig’s List bound.

After cleaning up in Springville, we wended our way toward Visalia hitting any yard sale in our path. At one sale near Visalia, they ended up throwing stuff at us and we didn’t duck. One freebee was a tripod BBQ grill. The tripod grill is a slick device with three poles linked at the top. Then, you suspend a 24” square heavy iron grill from the top with chains, dig a fire pit, and you’re good to go. The guy was in “moving mode” and didn’t want to babysit his wares and it was getting hot so he just tossed stuff at us that was either free or nearly so (an expensive vintage Noritake porcelain china bowl for 2 bucks is dang near free). The back of the van was nearly full by the time we got to Costco. We had to wonder just exactly where we were going to put our goodies now that we were preloaded.

Well, as you can suspect, we had worked up an appetite by this time. So, the only reasonable thing to do was to head straightaway to the “Home Town Buffet”! The place has improved over time so we made sure that we double checked to see if they were maintaining their excellence. In fact, I triple checked, though I shouldn’t have. It wasn’t like other times, though. I didn’t eat until I made money this time. But, I did get my money’s worth, don’tcha know. After a quick siesta in the parking lot (who can move after a buffet?!), we headed to Costco a few miles south on Mooney Blvd.

Shopping was just as suspected so there was a ton of stuff to load. As it turned out, there were a couple of experienced old folks on hand who just happened to be excellent packers so they managed to stack and rack things so that we had a bit of room to spare (albeit a very small bit). Our chariot drove like it had square wheels but we made it home without incident.

So, now we know what happens when you turn two old people loose with a few bucks and a full tank of gas, eh? Stay tuned; things could get...interesting.

RANCHO TOSTADO

Here's a shot of the front of Rancho Tostado looking north from the front yard. Directly behind me is Highway 190 just across a small ditch full of tules. I miss my green lawn!

And the correct temperature is.....102 degrees, a mere 5 degrees short of the forecast. Reckon someone threatened to shoot the weatherman, eh?

Looking south from the front porch. We are continually thankful for the big fruitless Mulberry tree that cuts some of the heat.

From the front porch again and looking SE at the driveway. Most of our flowers look like they've been hosed with a flame thrower.

Here's a shot of our vineyard. They're doing as well as can be expected. I drip irrigate these little guys to keep them alive. We just picked up  some more vines so will be planting them soon. They were on closeout at a local supermarket so we just hauled a bunch of them home along with some nectarines that were less than half off. .

This is looking north again but from the back yard and toward the well house. This area used to be rather lush and verdant. Looks like Achmed and his herd of a thousand goats has passed through here!

Looking north again from the back yard towards the mountain that separates us from the town of Springville. We're actually south of the town but have to travel east first then make the turn north to get there.

 This shot is just to the west of the one above. It shows our "back 40" including a few of our 23 or so orange and tangerine trees. It also shows the fire suppression water storage tank. In the middle of the shot are a pomegranate tree and a plum tree (difficult to see them).  Just above the oranges in the background is our neighbor's home. He's a doctor. Doctor's are our friends.






Well, Virginia; it looks like another month has blitzed by here at Rancho Tostado without being noticed ("rancho tostado" being the Mexican colloquialism for "burnt alley"). Connie and I were so busy that we forgot to check the calendar and let a perfectly good month slide by without getting to use much of it as a day off. I think we were able to squeeze in a couple of short naps, though.

 I suppose that isn’t a huge complaint. After all, all work and no play does make for some great yard sale deals, eh? In fact, just the other day while out and about on the job we stopped at a “moving sale” (our favorite type) and purchased a few things (you just knew I was leading you here now, didn’t you?). It was later in the day and the weather was quite warm (102 deg. is pretty warm) so we didn’t want to stand and melt into the nice man’s yard and leaving him with a big mess to clean up, don’tcha know. So, we didn’t dally. However, he advised us to check back later in the day on Sunday (the next day) and he would make us a deal. OK…we can do that. He may just as well have said, “Y’all come back and I’ll throw money at you and…by the way….please don’t duck”.

 The next day was a long one. We had to pick up folks for church, have church, drop off folks from church, and attend to two computer clients prior to actually going home. When we finally did get close to home at 4 PM, we remembered to stop back by the moving sale that was still being conducted in the mucho heat and mucho humidity. As we got out of the car, Connie and I saw a lot of stuff that we had wanted from the day before still waiting for us to haul it off. In fact, it appeared to us that no one had even been to his yard sale at all since we left! There was a ton of really good stuff still remaining! We discussed what we thought we would offer him and arrived at the 100 dollar mark. This “lowball” figure was because we really didn’t want to be moving tons of stuff in the heat and it was going to be hotter yet during the remainder of the week. UGH.

 When we got there, the gentleman was taking a nap (like we had wanted to do in a really big way) and was awakened by his Australian shepherd who faithfully went in to fetch him. He came out and was glad to see us. Without solicitation he said, “Why don’t you just buy everything?”. He said, “I’ll sell it all to you for 100 dollars”. I immediately said, “Sold! Your yard sale is now officially ended”. My! That was easy!

The next day he advised that he had a shed that needed to be emptied so we bought the entire contents for 20 dollars. Looks like there are way over 100 DVD Movies, an antique clock from 1896, and other goodies! The story gets better; he said that he need to empty the house out and sold us just about everything in his house for another two hundred bucks!

 We haven’t catalogued things yet but it looks like we should at least feel a bit guilty for being so blessed. Naw. We got over that temptation rather quickly.

 Some of the things include a Black and Decker vacuum food sealer (which makes a nice addition to our other sealers), a nice low-mileage Rival toaster oven (I’ve wanted one for awhile), a new campfire camping grill, hand tools (shovels, hoes, etc), miscellaneous hardware, table and chairs, two aluminum ladders, bric-a-brac, misc stuff, junk, and what all. It looks like some of it will go to eBay, some to Craig’s List, and some for our October yard sale. We certainly will keep a lot of the other goodies for the ranch hands.

There was even a late model HP workstation computer in the storage shed that I upgraded and just now sold (a few days later) for 200 bucks. Just the one item paid for 1/2 of our investment. Well! Bless my bippy! Where I come from they call that "Such a deal!".

Speaking of yard sales, recently, we found ourselves at a yard sale in Hooterville (the colorful term of endearment for my backward hometown of Porterville. Even the entire city counsel walks around backward at City Hall). I saw a 32” LG flat screen TV on a table. I asked the nice lady what the story was concerning it. She advised that it would only stay on for less than a minute then it would shut off. The price was a piddling ten bucks so I snatched it up and hauled it to Minnick’s Computer Services where it soon had the back cover off. Ol’ Ran, never a TV repair man, Googled the matter and came up with a definitive clue: the power supply had an issue. Come to find out, it had a single “blown” 1000pf 16v electrolytic capacitor. No worries. I ordered a bag of those off eBay for 8.00 and waited for the ship to come in. When it did, I de-soldered the old cap and soldered in the new one. I glued the set back together and set it on my table where I had the 26” monitor parked. It works like new! The total cost for the big beauty was ten bucks plus a 16 cent (YEP!) capacitor! I am now officially spoiled and will never again be satisfied with my dinky 20” monitor!

 Part of being busy this month is the fact that I’ve conducted 7 funerals in as many weeks. Two of them were for close relatives. Most know by now that my brother, Steve, died on July 3^rd. His funeral was on the 12^th. Then, my aunt, Bobbie Helen, died a few days later and her funeral was on the 25^th. One of the funerals was for the husband of a lady who had been a member of our church many years ago. We had his funeral on a Wednesday. Three days later, her only son died at her home. His funeral was about a week later.

 If that isn’t interesting enough, the mother of one of the men in our church just died and it appears that I’ll be conducting an 8^th service. I’ve conducted more funerals in less than two months than in the previous several years combined. And, we have reason to believe that there may yet be others in the not-too-distant future. Let us pray not.

 An old song asks, “Whatcha gonna do when the creek runs dry, honey?” Our creek, the Tule River, for the second year in a row, has dried up and is at “zero flow”. That’s unheard of. We don’t have time to “sit on the bank and watch the crawdads die” (same old song) but we can pray for rain. Our area is dryer than double-toasted roofing tile. This is not a good thing.

 People’s wells are drying up too. Some of the farmers/ranchers are having their existing wells drilled down to the 300’ and 400’ levels. Having to pump water instead of getting it from the rivers/canals is costing a fortune (the utility companies are dancing naked in the streets with glee). As an interesting side note: the Valley floor has sunk more than 3’ since the time I was in high school. This isn’t not a good thing either.

 The old folks at Rancho Relaxo still have water at around the 40’ mark that we can tell. It has something to do with the water table at our specific location. Not sure of the specifics but we’re quite pleased with that fact. Our irrigation/ditch water (that comes from the Tule River) is being rationed at the rate of “four on; four off”. We can trickle a bit of water so as to keep most of our trees and garden damp but can’t keep the lawn greened up because we don’t have the pressure to run a sprinkler. I’m going to overhaul the system and see if I can maximized water flow to our dirt. I’ll probably do this ….on my next ….day off. Uh-huh (I just checked and the water pressure is up a bit so there is hope).

 As an emergency option (options are our friends), we had our ditchwater routed to our main water system at the pump house and fire suppression tank. If a water crisis happens, and there is water in the ditch, we can throw a couple of valves open and have river water on tap. It will be filtered through three course filters and then a full residential filter. There won’t be any chunks in our water. As a last resort, we also have access to our 3,200 gallon fire suppression water tank. We would likely have to boil that stuff but at least it wouldn’t have crawdads in it.

 The summer heat has been brutal on Connie’s green beans. She was looking forward to something other than brown beans but she lost the bet. She finally threw a sun screen over them and the newly planted ones seem to be doing well. The tomatoes seem to be thriving but not like last year. We’re going to overhaul the entire system after this growing season (on my day off, no doubt).

 The okra is a tough ugly mess. It has turned into OSB probably because of the heat. It's so tough that we're thinking about using it as 12ga shotgun ammunition. It would really hurt the Taliban if dropped from 16,000' too. So, I may be looking at a contract with the Air Force soon.

We really can’t much use it in or for anything. However, I boiled the heck out of it (not much heck left in it so far) and used the product as a thickener and flavoring agent. Tastes great too.

 One thing we’re doing with the veggies we grow and that other’s give us from their gardens is to make soups to can. Connie has given me the honor of whomping up a few recipes for stews and soups that can be stowed for winter stores. I can do that! There was some closeout whole chickens at Smart and Final the other day so, at half price, we simply had to cart off a few of them. They ended up in large pots full of vegetables made with savory chicken stock brewed by the chief knife slinger, Ol’ Ran.

 OK….enough for now. I have to get back into the saddle and rope another sick computer. Don’t touch that dial (you don’t know where it’s been!).

Rancho Ran and Side-cook Connie the Canner

 

 

 

Sad Day At The Ranch

Some times it’s difficult to avoid how reality can screw up a really fine day. I had intended to post a jovial and jocular update complete with a few pictures of Lovey Dovey and such (she’s back for a third go-around). It’s not happening this time.

 Most of you know that my brother, Steve, passed away Wednesday, July 3^rd. He had been seriously ill for years but is now at rest. Now, it’s a complete course change for my mother who, at age 85, will want to move to a smaller home with far less upkeep to worry about.

 May I blather for a bit? Thanks. I don’t often do that but just need to stroll down memory lane for a few minutes. I remember when my folks brought Steve home from the hospital like it was yesterday. He was born on December 6^th, 1953 so I suspect that they turned my mother loose with the new package three days later (which, as I recall, was about the norm for back in the old days). I see the house where we lived at the time (it was torn down to make room for a new one about 15 years or so ago). I see the small bedroom/living room and the small kitchen and even remember the landlord's name. The day was a dingy gray winter one typical of this area.

I was crowding my 5^th birthday so I suppose I was old enough to remember a few things. I recall a few dydees and such and, of all things, a breast pump. Reckon I thought it was some sort of a horn or something.

 Steve was a good kid and a reasonable baby brother. I didn’t get much guff from him since I was big enough to whack him if he tried anything. Unlike middle brother, David the Knothead, he never did give me any grief. He was just always a pleasant young boy who seemed to mind his P’s and Q’s.

 Dave, well….there’s another story altogether. Dave seemed to track down trouble with a magnifying glass and a pickaxe. He was as much a numbskull as he was troublesome. He gave me some grief one time when he was about 9 years old. He just wouldn’t give it up and hassled me until I just bopped him one. We were good buds for a long time after that.

 Then, his diagnosis of “numbskull” progressed to “brain dead”. If you know anything at all about medicine and life, you know that it takes a lot of determination to advance from one stage to another like that. “Determined Dave” would have been another good name to call him as it surely fit him like a glove.

 When he was about 16 years old, he chose me off one day. Now…..I was a pretty easy going fellow even back in my days of proving how big of a dork I could be. But, I didn’t take to being challenged like that. He swung at me with predictable results…..I bopped him a good one. It wasn't in my heart to hurt the kid since I was taller, bigger, and had about a 4” reach advantage on him and very easily could have just mopped the dance hall floor with him. I just wanted to get his attention and did. He didn’t feel like making up this time. He was a practiced thug and thought he was tough and getting his butt handed to him wasn't going to change him or his mind any time soon. In fact, he died a thug. So, we didn’t get along much at all after that. Must have pranged his pride or something. He came to stay with us for a few months in Rockford in the early '70's. He was still set on being an idiot so we had to have him leave. I was working for the city and didn't need my drug-using drug-dealing brother around to mess up my life.

 In '77, he attacked me in Fresno one evening when he came over to visit. Long story short: he jumped a coffee table and began to pummel me. I tried to stand but the couch slipped out from under me. I fell over…backwards and upside down…..behind the couch. He jumped me and started beating me up. I can't speak for anyone else but I don’t take to pummeling very well and took exception to his aggression. All that was necessary to end the losing streak was to regain my footing. When I did, I merely strapped a front choke hold on the kid and brought him to his knees. Funny to think that I just couldn’t hurt the boy and found no reason to do anything but control him and keep him still. In fact, I didn’t even strike him a single time though I could easily have made him eligible for a long stay in the hospital within a few seconds. As crazy as it sounds, I wasn’t even mad at him and took no offense in the fact that I took 16 stitches as the “loser” of the bout.

 A few months later, at 3AM, he grabbed my dad’s pistol and was going to kill us all. I had to wrestle him down and disarm him. The pistol discharged in the bedroom where my 3 kids were sleeping (long story) but I was able to overpower him and pull the cylinder pin. I still have the scar in the middle of my left hand that was inscribed by the iron sight (you lock the cylinder with your hand and place the web of your thumb and forefinger between the hammer and the firing pin). Wanna know something interesting? I was on the 9th day of a fast yet had more than enough strength to handle the exigency.

Guess I pumped more memories from the “thought well” than I anticipated. Funny how we humans work.

 Moving along.....when I left for Rockford, IL late in ’69, Steve was still a mid-teener boy growing up. I didn’t spend much time with him prior to the move since who would want their baby brother following them around, eh? By the time I returned to CA in ’74, Steve was a grown man with his own life to tend to and I just didn’t get to see much of him. I ran into him once in awhile up in Fresno when I lived there but he had moved to Turlock with his new wife and both of us were working full time (I was working 100 hours minimum per week at the time).

 He moved, I moved, I moved back, he moved back but a different town again, and he finally moved to P’ville after he and his second wife split while living in Grand Junction, CO. I had moved back to P’ville from Longview, WA shortly before that. Then, a few years later, we both were divorced and both were living at my mother’s place. It worked for everyone since she had plenty of protection from a couple of big boys (Steve’s 6’3” and I’m 6’2”) and a large house that the boys took care of.

 For reasons that I still don’t totally understand, Steve simply wasn’t familial. I don’t know what that was about. He was not at all interested in being a brother or anything else. Granted, we didn’t have a lot in common but….hey…..he could have invited me to go fishing with him in his boat.

 Holidays, for all intents and purposes, didn't exist with him. He didn’t attend family functions (few as there were) and didn’t attend the local music functions (though they were plentiful). I can sort of understand that since he had been a talented musician until he cut the fingers off of his left hand and could no longer play. In fact, he was a better bass guitar player than I am and I had a head start on him! But, you can’t just hole up and work on the world’s best moon tan and expect success.

 I don’t know…..I just don’t get it. I still don’t know my brother and still didn’t have much of a connection with him. There was just no way to get inside his corral…..just no avenues of communication available. I would have loved to have my brother back but it didn’t happen.

 I had him back for a short time, come to think about it. He had spent a couple of weeks in the hoosegow (an English version of a Spanish word. For years I thought it was ……Chinese!) for being a bad boy (he finally outgrew that). His time in "school" humbled him and was part of the family for awhile. The humility quickly wore off and he was back to being a disinterested sourpuss and curmudgeon in training.  His world never changed.

 Well….I suppose I’ve gotten that off my chest. Thanks for listening. I still wish that I could have said, “Good-bye” and let him know that I cared.

 It’s HOT here in the Valley. No big surprise there. We’ve racked up some blazing days in times past so we feel normal even at the 103 degree mark. We don’t like it….but we do accept the reality of the matter and add another ice cube to the fire and stay in front of a fan.

 That hot part isn’t the hard part; the hard part is the drought. We have plenty of water but the politicians and Enviro-Nazi’s refuse to pump water down from the Sacramento Delta to this area because…..are you ready for this?..........some of their precious Delta Smelt …..FISH …..will die (it’s supposedly on the endangered list)!! Now……watch the math on this: they could easily just set up a fish hatchery and breed millions of their stupid smelt….millions of them!! It wouldn’t cost all that much!! Instead….they’re withholding water from much of the Valley and it will cost BILLIONS of dollars and food prices are going to skyrocket!! It’s that simple!! Since it is that simple, then obviously, the drought is natural but the “water shortage” is man-made. It’s engineered and it’s so obvious as to be sickening. To hold us hostage because of a fish is nothing short of evil.

 Kalifornia now has so many tree huggers, fish huggers, homo-huggers, and insanity huggers (they love their nuts) that sane people (and their businesses) are leaving the state in droves. That would be people like dear friends of ours who are moving to Florence, OR and who had to call a moving company. Can you imagine their shock when they were advised that the move would take much longer than they thought because the moving company was struggling to catch up with demand?  

To make matters worse and to help destroy the trucking industry, the Dems now have a new law requiring older trucks to have emission control similar to that found on personal autos. Since the new equipment will cost about.....GULP.....$35,000 per tractor/truck, most guys are throwing in the towel and retiring or changing professions. Apparently, a large number of these trucks are part of the moving industry and the new laws are making a mess of things and killing a large part of the industry. This, just as engineered, is leaving ...another shortage and a huge .....rise in prices.....right when we don't need them (the shortages are stacking up...a real "ko-inky-dink", right?). Few states are as hostile to business as California. But, that's how socialists (anti-capitalist and therefore anti-business) deal with things. 

So many people are flooding out of the state that it’s frightening and has spurred the state legislature into considering some sort of “action”. What “action” am I talking about? Get this….they’re actually talking about a “moving penalty” (of course, it’s not a “tax”…uh-huh) to penalize business and people for leaving!! 

What’s their thinking? It's basically, “They are leaving to avoid….’paying their fair share’ (their openly published wording)…..so we will fine them for leaving”. 

California, it has been predicted by the those gentle folks, the demographers, will be Caucasian-free in fewer than 50 years. That will leave the state to those "southerners" who are dependent upon the government for everything and all will be well in the new socialist police state (my, my. Another coincidence). Those meddling white folks (you know; those who expect the government to obey the law and to protect them as is their oath of office) will be gone and there will be peace in the land. All of California will be a new "Tijuana by the Bay" (my....I can't wait).

These are, of course, Democrats, making all these rules and engineering our course to oblivion. The Republicans have had little power in the state for a long long time. It's not unlike Detroit or Chicago: you can't blame Republicans for anything since there aren't any. What few we have show up and keep their seats warm but are as about as noticed as a lesbian in downtown LA.  

Even Arnie wasn’t a real Republican (can you spell, "RINO"?). The fact that he was married to Maria “Shrew Girl” Shriver should have enlightened even the dimmest bulb. You would have thought that having to buy her a new broom every year to ride into town would have prompted him to dump her for a real wife.

Arnie was a “Fiscal Conservative” (and not a really good one, at that); after that, he was purely Democrat. He openly stated his views on politics and none of it was concurrent with conservatives or Republicans (which is exactly why he got elected in a state afloat with Marxists). Not being from this country, he told us to our faces that he found no reasoning or way that would lead him to save California from the tsunami of illegal aliens and did nothing to save us from utter defeat. Thanks, Governator, but I don't like stiff cheese.

 Can you imagine: trying to legislate people’s movements and strong arming them for changing locations?! That’s how the Communists in Russia and China do things!! That’s so far from Constitutional that even the very thought of such a thing should earn you a few days in jail! Yet…that’s the norm from the White House down to the local level. 

In that same true Marxist fashion, Obama is, yet again, circumventing "we the people" and "taking care" of the immigration reform matter by executive order and bypassing Congress altogether. We the people have spoken....we don't want his immigration reform which will allow ten million illegals to be here legally and givie them full access to our country (including voting so that the Democrats will never again lose an election) and the equivalent of full citizenship without having to be naturalized!!!!

 Long-time Torrance, CA business, Toyota USA, is moving to Texas where sanity is closer to being normal.  They’re taking their tax dollars and jobs with them. No one is filling their shoes so far, either. Sheese….this rant is starting to sound like I should have posted it on “Randy’s Rant Roost”. I used to post my stuff there but have left it unattended for too long.

 Speaking of Torrance, We had the grandkiddies up for a few days. That was nice. It’s not often that we have 5 youngins overlowing the house. They had a blast! I taught the two eldest kids to drive my Ford 8N tractor. The eldest boy, 11, is a natural at just about anything he does. His sister, almost 10, is the same. She’s absolutely fearless when it comes to doing new things. She will not allow her big brother to overshadow here in the slightest!! Being fearless is also the best way to stay alive on a tractor. She owned that tractor and broke it like a bronco.

 I wanted them to drive the lawn tractor too but it recently suffered a mechanical issue with its starter. I just ordered another one online. By checking around a bit, I was able to save more than 50% on the price (and that including shipping!). One of these days, we’ll hook up the boat and take them all boating and fishing.

 We’ve had the boat for a couple of years now and haven’t even gotten it wet. I don’t recall what it costs to register the boat but it isn’t all that much. A fishing license, on the other hand, is dreadfully expensive! If you include a “second rod” endorsement/ticket, the cost for two licenses is 126.00! That’s ugly. Crazy!

 Add to that the fact that we have more than 100 rods and reels and tons of tackle and you have to scratch your head in wonderment as to what Ol’ Ran is thinking. In fact, I’m scratching my head in wonderment as well! I just picked up another 4 beautiful rods and reels that have hardly been use and they’re the nice expensive ones too! How could I pass up almost 100 dollars worth of fishing gear for ten bucks?

 The “tons” of tackle is hardly an exaggeration. I’ve purchased much tackle online. However, the real deals come from yard sales. At one particular yard sale, there were two tackle boxes loaded with good stuff. Next to it was a coffee can full of extraneous lures, hooks, swivels, and the like. The guy wanted 25 dollars each for the boxes and whatever for the coffee can. I asked him if he would take 40 bucks for both boxes and, after a bit of hemming and hawing, he said, “Yes”. Then I asked if he would toss in the can full of stuff and he said, “Yes”. He couldn’t believe that he said, “Yes” to both proposals and was shaking his head as to why he took the deal! But, he took the money and I took the tackle.

 At one sale, I saw a milk pail full of reels. There were ten level winds, and three closed face reels. All had mud on them but Ol’ Ran knows that a bit of soapy water will take that right off. The reels were the “real deal” and included Abu Garcia Ambassadors, a Shakespeare, a Diawa, and even Shimanos! I asked the nice lady how much she wanted for the entire bucket full of stuff. She mentioned that she really needed to get rid of those things and said, “How about a dollar for the lot of them?”. I almost broke a finger getting to my wallet! She threw in the pail, too!

 For now, we’re storing the rods and reels in the rafters upstairs in the barn. There seems to be sufficient space up there to do that. Otherwise, they are certainly in the way. I’ve overhauled a few of them and have them ready to go fishing ……some day.

 One problem is that, due to the drought, there’s no water in the river. The Tule is at “zero flow” again this year and things are not looking good at all for the trout. I like baked trout but not when the cooking is done on the river rocks and the sun is providing the heat! We'll go fishing in the lake since it's only a few miles from here.

Speaking of “heat”, it’s supposed to be up to 106 in a few days. So far, we’ve managed to get by in the 80’s and 90’s and even some of that had a bit of breeze added to it. That meant that we’ve only had to use “Ol’ Swampy” the evaporative cooler and not the watt-guzzling A/C units. We’re OK with the swamp cooler until the temp hits 100 or so. Things get ugly really quickly then and we turn on the A/C. I refuse to melt when I have options.

 Anyway…..that’s what’s happening at Rancho Relaxo. Thanks for everyone’s thoughts and prayers. More when I can.