Rancho Abril

These little guy's camo is working great! You can hardly see these two baby doves! Lovey Dovey is out fetching bugs for them. She's really good at it since she's already reared 10 other hatchlings! Soon, she'll leave the nest and they'll get hungry and attempt to fly off and be on their own.

Not long ago, one of our clients dropped off this Sharp "Aquos" 40" flat screen TV as e-waste. He advised me that his daughter said that it worked but that he hadn't a clue as to what that meant since he was leaving it for dead at our place. So, the temptation to tinker was great enough to coax Ol' Electro Dude to hook the DVD player and a portable stereo system up to it to see for himself.
Guess what? The audio was defective. However, everything else worked just great! All I did was use the composite input instead of the antenna input and the audio is fine. So, since it had HDMI capability, I swapped out the "little" 26" monitor for the big one. Would you believe...I can see and read my e-mail without squinting?

Here's the "Fang Gang". They've just been fed and, like their owner, know exactly what to do....park it and take a nap. They're not making much ado now but, most of the time, they keep the "Poopy Puppy Posse" on their toes, believe me!

Here's some of our Pecking Crew: 

Clara the Clucker, whose low-grade clucking sounds like she's muttering and complaining that someone else's eggs won the blue ribbon at the fair.

Growling Gertie,who protests the intrusions upon her brooding by pretending to be a pit bull. She's good at it, too. If I were a pit bull, I'd back down.

Polly Pecker, who fiercely guards her eggs and uses her beak like a rapier to defend her omelets-in-waiting.

Pecky Sue, must be Polly's sister because, she too, will give your knuckles a good piercing if you aren't paying attention.

Eggy Peggy, takes no offense at the pilfering of the products of her laboring and merely scoots her feathers to one side so that you can retrieve her bounty. This hen is my friend. 

Screaching Scarlette, is the one who begins her verbal offensive when you approach her egg cave. If you didn't know what was going on, you'd swear that the Ol' Rancher was disassembling her one feather at a time. Is there such a thing as a "pyscho chicken"?

Well, good golly, Miss Molly!! It's April!! Can you believe that?! I haven't even come close to wearing out March and April is here! It's as if the time machine is broken and is out of control! Can anyone explain that?! Oh, never mind. One or more of my dear friends would only confuse the issue with a bunch of facts. I'm not sure I'm up to that much truth all at the same time.

Here we are again in the throes of a marvelously mild spring. Skies are blue and filled with puffy white clouds. The grounds are green while trees are blooming like crazy. Our bees are dancing for joy for the bountiful bloom (actually, the dancing is to show the other bees where the best pickings are but I won't tell if you won't). 

While we're relishing the coolness, the forecast for Thursday is for temps seriously crowding .....grab the Kool-Aid, Martha.....90 degrees! 'Scuze me?! I can still feel last summer's perspiration and I'm going to have to go for a swim in April?! When I was a youth (and all you old people remember when that was!), we didn't head to the Tule River until the last week of May when the temps hit the mid-'90's (and when a case of beer didn't weigh as much as it does now...when did they sneak all that lead into the cans, guys?).

The garden boxes are trying harder than ever to make something grow. I guess it would be a good idea if we helped them out by planting something. Our grounds-man, friend, and brother, Gary Laird, will be helping with that matter next Thursday (if the Creek don't rise. I'm not too worried, though. I heard they opened a casino so that ought to keep them busy). After laying some chicken wire across the boxes (to protect from axe-toting gophers), we will haul a bunch of seasoned compost up to the boxes and we'll make them as fertile as the Nile Delta (and without the crocs). Actually, he may have to do most of the hauling since my hauler needs an overhaul. I hope to return it to service within a few decades or so (hauling heaving stuff just isn't my calling....fluff and stuff is my friend).

Despite that particular deficiency, I still had to cart the many boxes of compost-ables stacked in the back yard to the compost pile (which some Three Stooges understudy put at the far reaches of our property). You would think that I would have sense enough to dolly a few at a time prior to there being such a large pile of them. You would be thinking very normally but very incorrectly if so. I was under the powerful spell of the procrastinator's favorite old adage, "never do today what you can safely put off until tomorrow". My spirit was willing but my flesh was weak. For that dereliction of duty, I'll probably get busted from "Captain Fertilizer" to "Sergeant Skat".

After that bout of sweat production, a ton (well, it felt like a ton) of fresh compost from my marvelous heap of ex-heads of cabbages, ex-tomatoes, and a previously-living chicken had to be hauled to the front for use on the trees and vines. After having already chased my chickens and herding my puppies, and having been up since before 5AM, I was exhaustipated (try looking that up in your Funk & Wagnalls....but I bet you can still figure out just how exhausted I was). There wasn't enough oomph remaining to motivate me to buy tickets to a good skunk wrassle.  

Speaking of compost: the beautiful large pile of compost has been stirred and watered and has been doing its thing for almost a year. It really is a sight to behold to witness the restructuring of organic materials into a thriving heap of usable fertilizer. I doubt if there could be too much better of a mix to be had. We're using veggie matter, chicken doo, cellulose/paper/cardboard matter, sawdust from the floor of the coop, and such. Most of the materials were...free. Around Rancho Relaxo, free is our friend (it helps to keep those fives and tens in our wallet where we can keep them nice and warm and safe).

With all of that free material parked out back (i.e. low overhead) and doing little but ...vegging, wouldn't you know that my lightning fast-mind would come up with another income stream? It dawned on me that we could set up another sign next to the "eggs for sale" sign and computer sign to advertise our excellent product and fetch a respectable markup. What do you think about this for a sign: "Rancho Marvy Doo. The doo that can do what no other doo can do for you". Has nice ring to it, eh? One of our clients advised that we can come and collect all of the horsey hockey we want from his horses. The neighbor two houses down has goats. We have cows in the 15 acres a couple of lots east. My thinking is that I can add this variety to the mix and make our product even better! We can call it, "Rancho Marvy Zoo Doo! There's nothing you can't do with our doo!" (and, that oughta do for now). Anyway....now you know some of the things the Ol' Rancher thinks about in his ...fertile...mind while he's toiling away (I know. I know. It's a cry for help).

Springing forward....we always know the season no matter what because "Lovie Dovie" makes her nest on the front porch. She has returned and has another two cutie chicks in the making. They just hatched a few days ago. In less than two weeks, the little winged fluff balls will be standing totally bewildered on the edge of the nest and wondering what happens next. Their empty tummies will shout for them to do something and they will flutter with all their might to a spot within about 20 feet of the nest. Sometimes they land on something and sometimes not. After however long, they disappear hoping to not be found during the September 1st opening day of "dove hunting" season.

Our mini-yappers are growing like we've been feeding them the same stuff that Pete Rose was accused of nursing. The little buggers eat like horses and take down 8 cans of dog food per day (plus snacks). There will be individual mug shots on Craig's list....soon! We fed them dry food today for the first time and they cleaned their plates. That will surely help the currency drain at the ranch. 

It's brings great joy to hold a cute little puppy and have it lick your face and snuggle into your neck and shoulder while you lavish it with attention and love. There is another emotion that is evoked altogether when your learn that your cute cuddly critter has a severe case of "PPP"; that would be "Poopy Puppie Paws". You have to scramble around looking for a towel or such with which to clean Grandpaw. I wish I knew enough of "dog speak" to say, "Watch your step, dummy dogs!". Alas, I do not so the once fresh and clean T-shirt headed into the wash. So, Ol' DRR ("Ol' Dummy Rancho Ran") learned yet another lesson in life. I truly thought I had already completed most of such lessons. But, just when I learned the "Poop Coop Boogie", I had to learn the "Poopy-Pawed Puppy Polka" *SIGH*.

Life at the Rancho is not all as hectic as a princess prepping for the prom. The over-worked and under-paid Computer-Rancho-Preacher Dude likes to start the day reasonable early. Most days, crack-an-eyelid time is, oh...6:00 AM to 6:30 AM. There's an occasional 7 AM tossed in if the one man geek squad stays up too late. Lastly, it's a 5 AM bounce out of bed (oh, sure...you believe that, right?) on Sunday which makes for a long two days (which is what it seems like to me). 

That's "writing and editing" day so I can get my books published and another one re-published (the first publisher retired). The redeeming factor  is the nap secured on Sunday afternoon. No phone, no food, no pets (can I get big "Amen!" from all you Roger Miller fans?) and the door is bolted and blinds screwed down tight. It's "Z-Time" at the ranch.

It seems that it takes awhile for the ..um...mature...folks to get their ducks together. I made life easier by only have one duck (life is far far less complicated that way). I named him "Einstein" but he's not a deep thinker so he doesn't often find the line the first time around.  Nevertheless, I relish my early morning time. I check my e-mail and sip my coffee wondering what I want to be when I finally wake up. The peace and quiet of early mornings is my friend.

There's nothing like a nice hot cup of coffee in the morning. Some folks are "coffee snobs". They care about the grind, the pull, the roast, et. al.. Me? I'm more of a "coffee snot". I don't really care about the details; my coffee merely has to taste good. There are many blends and brands on hand so "Rancho Espresso" comes behind in no good brew. The big Braville "Roma" espresso brewer doesn't sit idle but the preference is for the little "Krup" espresso maker. No muss, no fuss. Just throw some coffee in it, punch the button, and out comes a bunch of espresso coffee. When I need less than a bunch of the stuff, I just break out the "Roma" and get a shot (so, yes, I've had my shots...teehee).  

Speaking of "mature folks", surely most of my fellow calendar challenged friends remember having breakfast for supper. I hadn't done that in quite awhile and simply had the "hongries" (I need a big "Amen" from you Buck Owens fans) for breakfast at about 4 PM today. So, Ol' Ran whomped up a real doozie (I'm pretty sure that Jethro Bodine and I are kin even if it's shirt-tail). There were 5 fresh eggs (but you knew that) cooked sunny side up, fried taters (close kin to potatoes but prepared differently..usually with a lot more grease), sourdough bread toast (extra dark, please), and...drum roll...SPAM.

I've had some of that mechanically-separated mystery meat hanging around for awhile and wanted to use it up before it became puppy fodder. Rumor has it that they trim the meat from just prior to the oink but I don't really know for sure (reckon you probably could eat the oink if you just put enough salt on it). It was slabbed out, tossed into a genuine polytetrafluoroethylene-coated frying pan, and fried to perfection. The next thing you know, the plate was clean and its flowers were gone.

Now, let me tell you, pilgrim; that there was some really good eatin' and a heap o' calories to boot (which is the main reason we're actually "cereal killers" around here most of the time)! There must have been a confluence of warm spring weather, a tired body, and a couple of slippin' cogs to make me want to hunker down with a fork and a knife like that. Connie almost accused me of "mantling". 

It doesn't happen all that often due to caloric concerns but we do have "Popeye's Savor the Flavor Day" here at the ranch. It happens when we have "stood all we can stands and we can't stands no more" lack of real food and defend our severely-abused appetites with a good breakfast or a great grilling session in the afternoon. I have a "fatted calf" in the freezer so.....it won't be long before some of his parts will be found on the barby and passing between my lips and teeth. 

There has been a bit of progress in the ham shack. The head hamster made a few contacts on the 20 meter band not long ago. One was a guy on vacation in Bonaire (from New Jersey) which is one of the "ABC Islands" (Aruba, Bonaire, and Curacao, off the coast of Venezuela). That's not bad for a station running about 100 watts of output power to a home-built 36' center-fed wire dipole antenna that's strung up about 30' or so. I'm still disappointed in the 40 meter band performance (despite an almost perfect SWR) but the hope is to mount a multi-band trapped vertical antenna to see if that will help (probably on or about my next...day off). It most likely will help since it has a different (i.e. omni-directional) radiation pattern than the dipole. Not that either antenna changes the shape of the mountains overshadowing the ranch. C'est la vie.

Well, neighbors, that's about it from "Rancho Relaxo". All is well with the critters and critter sitters so life is good. So, stay tuned and don't touch that dial so you can be ready for more of the adventures of Rancho Ran and his side-cook, Connie the Canner. Things could get...interesting.