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.