Breaker! Breaker! Good buddy! or I’ll CB’ing you: This is a "Cobra" brand Model HH50 hand-held CB radio. They retail for more than 100 dollars. Of course, the old yard sail'er isn't about to pay retail but for a few things. So, this one was picked up for 5 bucks at an estate sale. I checked it out and it works great! Ol' Radio Ran started out with CB radios in '71 and progressed to Ham radio from there. If we travel more than about 200 miles from home, Ol' RR has a CB radio in the van, to be sure. They actually come in handy at times. It's used mostly for monitoring traffic around the big cities and on the Interstates when traffic gets "goofy" (if you've ever travelled on an Interstate, you know that "goofy" is the word to use to explain the traffic out there). It probably goes without saying that his ham radios are on board, too.
This is the newly overhauled "Ranch Rhino". it has a new tune-up, new wiring, a new alternator, and a new battery. The headlights even work! The over-haul included a complete oil change and lube job so it handles much better than before ("strong arm" power steering, don'tcha know). It runs like a champ, starts on the first crank, and doesn't smoke! What a sweet little tractor!!
What was included this time was a large skillet full of fried taters and onions. There was no way that the beans were not going to be paired with spuds! My! My! Talk about "good stuff"!!
Just as I was finished and leaving the table, I watched in silence as my left hand snatched the last small tater in the bowl! There were no survivors!
How Sweet It Is or “ Honey, hand me some honey”: to the right is a section of freshly harvested honeycomb filled to the brim with orange honey (the 3 box hive is in the middle of our 17 orange trees and next to the neighbor's 50+ orange trees). There are no earthly words to describe just how delicious this is when it's popped into your mouth and slowly drained into your gullet. It's indescribably delicious (and you thought “Mounds” were the only thing that tasted that good!). Our friend and professional beekeeper, Dave Kruse, advised that we have as much as 40 pounds of honey ready for harvesting! All I need is a...day off... and we'll have our honey for the year!
Well! Pat me on the head and feed me cornbread! It’s May! Reckon we’ll just have to pour another cup of emotional support beverage (Starbucks, please) and go about our business of not noticing just how fast the months are ripping by. *SIGH*.
Rancho Report: things are moving along well here at
the rancho. The Ol’ Rancher and Rancherette are busier than honey bees in the
spring bloom. Of course, all that means is that not much has changed and that we’re
finally getting caught up with last year’s chores. *SIGH*.
Also, we’ve dodged all the “bullets” that have been flung far
and wide around the world. The only measures taken were to, 1) use your head and
don’t be a dumb cluck (we decided to be smart clucks) 2) wear the stupid mask
(which the CDC has finally confessed doesn’t help at all but…we just grin and
bear it to prevent people from throwing rocks at us and because we know that
we’ll be able to stop breathing our own body waste once we get back outside)
3) stay pumped with vitamins (especially vitamin D and C), beaucoup minerals; get lots of fresh air and sunshine which are all
important facets of maintaining a healthy immune system 4) fear not. There’s no
reason to fear any virus if you just use your head and follow the (historically-true-and-proven)
science (garnered by doing a lot of homework so that you aren’t being deceived); the use of quinine (.99 cents per liter anywhere - think: malaria), and many other
homeopathic options have been irrefutably proven to either stop any virus dead
in its tracks and/or give you an Arnold Schwarzenegger immune system (something
akin to wearing a flak jacket for your immune system).
It worked out really well and there is great peace in knowing that we weren't a threat to anyone and they weren't a threat to us.
A bad hare day: For many years, we've had our share of
cotton tail wabbits around here. They weren’t particularly a threat to our
garden so they were pretty much left to themselves (it's the brazen ground squirrels that are the veggie thieves). A few of them were culled from time to time
if there was a thought of there being too many of them around the garden boxes. There isn't any sport in the matter since they are large stationary targets (compared to the ground squirrels).
But, as of late, the domestic population of lagomorphs has
dwindled to the point that there’s no reckoning of just how long it has been
since one of them has made himself “invisible” on our property. You may already
know that wabbits just sit motionless when they see an approaching threat. They
assume a concrete statue pose which is their Romulan cloaking mechanism (so,
there is proof that we have either had contact with aliens or that wabbits
watch too many “Star Trek” reruns). Of
course, if the threat gets too close, they bolt for Ceti Alpha 6 (as do the
Klingons).
Anyway, it was noteworthy enough to make another note worthy of mention. There must be a large recurring wabbit predation program in progress. In other words, the coyotes (who also love chicken dinners), hawks (who also love chicken dinners), and snakes (who also love chicken eggs) are keeping up with their commitment to stay alive by eating wabbits. So, having a paucity of cotton tails is a good thing (at least until rabbit fur coats come back into fashion). Their bad hare day is a "good hair day" for us.
Great gobs of gopher gas!: imagine if you will (no. This is not an episode of "Twilight Zone") a bunch of cartoon gophers (perhaps "Go Go Gophers" ala "Under Dog" cartoons, 1968) or other critters pulling veggies down into their tunnels from a farmers carefully tended garden. The farmer is furious and grabs his double barreled shotgun is ready to wreak vengeance for the loss. Now, imagine it being the Ol' Rancher's garden and the critters are pulling his carefully tended veggies down into their tunnel! Can you see him hollering, "Where's my shotgun?!"?
It's difficult to comprehend how a small furry almost blind mammal can haul a 24" tomato plant down into his tunnel! However, you soon become a believer when it happens to you! Add to that the fact that the same rodent tunneller gnawed off another 24" tomato plant at the base thereby destroying the plant! Then, factor in the loss of 10 okra starts! Well, you can also imagine that, when these facts were processed, war was declared on Mr. Gopher!
That led to a trip to "Lowe's" where a load of gopher gas was procured, hauled home, then readied for deployment. This stuff is really cool because it looks like dynamite. And, it has this neato fuse that you light and it makes you think that, if the gas doesn't get this fuzzy bugger, the explosion must. It's like it's the Fourth of July, too!
All holes in the area were dug and readied for gassing. Each hole had a "bomb" placed in it and the fuse was lit. Once the gas started (it's just sulfur and not unlike striking a huge match), the hole was covered up. Then you wait for results.
Results came the next day; the gopher came back that night and refilled his holes! Grrrrrr! The next round of gas will have to wait until we head to town again so we can resupply or expensive sulfur bombs. If this rodent isn't stopped, we'll lose the entire bean crop, the tomatoes, and all the okra. That isn't part of the plan at all.
Ran can cook (hey! If Yan can cook, so can Ran!): around here, when
the mood for Chinese food strikes (nothing like being hard struck by a mood, I always say), the
ol’ Rancho Woko gets hauled out of its box and is readied for work.
Cooking Chinese food is relatively easy even for a round eye
guy like me. It’s almost impossible to mess up a meal if you just pay attention
and use a few simple ingredients that are common to Chinese cooking. That means
that even Ran can cook! Such a deal!
After whacking up the veggies and pork and rounding up the (never ever secret) ingredients, the wok was heated and oiled (peanut oil, that is) and the wok-spatula was set to flying. The chopped up pork steak was flash fried then put aside until the veggies were done.
This was happening while the
noodles were boiling. After they were finished cooking, they were drained and
readied for the wok to be turned into “soft fried” noodles (a thing that Ol’ Faux Chef Ran dearly loves).
After you toss in some of the usual stir-fry seasoning and some soy sauce on the greens, you can just cover the wok and let the steam do its work for a few minutes. Then, toss in the meat, mix everything together until well heated, plate the fresh, hot, soft-fried noodles, then it's time to dish up. It won't be long until we wok-up and do it again.
Plastic, bottles, and cans! Oh, no!: the other day
(when lots of things happen around here), it was time to haul in the bottles,
cans, and plastics to the recycle place. Our favorite is the one at West Olive
and Indiana in Hooterville (my hometown, USA). Our labor was rewarded with
enough cash to take the two old people to “Burger King” and slay their hunger on
the spot. It’s not exactly the proverbial “free lunch” but it’ll work for now.
Wham! Bam! No thank you, Ma’am! Or, Don't Let The Stars Get In Your Eyes: one
of Ol’ Ran’s favorite mottos is, “You have to pay attention”. Life is full of
unexpected surprises and, if you aren’t looking out, you can get blindsided. This
is also to say that, when working on a ranch (of any size), you simply have to
keep you head up and be alert (not enough lerts out there so you need to become a lert, too).
Well, reckon you can guess who had his head stuffed
somewhere other than in the “up” position and fell victim to his own
inattention. Yep; the Ol’ Rancher who was determinately walking toward the barn
while looking downward and trying to deal with an uncooperative water nozzle. In
the blink of a buzzard's eye and in full stride, he slammed into a low tree branch (that
would be the one that he had purposed a dozen times to saw off so that he
wouldn’t slam into it with his head)!
Oh! Man! That hurt! That shook the dates right off my palm tree! That “homer” (right out of the ball park) was good for a trip to space! I saw stars, starships, and aliens (terrestrial and extraterrestrial)! The first thought after the stellar vision finished was to triage the injuries; at first it seemed that, there was not only going to be a broken nose to contend with, but certainly the Ol’ Rancher would soon be sporting a new pair of black eyes. My lightning-fast mind asked, “just how are you going to explain the black eyes, Ran?”. I was sure that no one would believe that even I could do something so stupid as to blindly walk in to a tree limb (or, maybe not). Maybe telling them that I lost the fight would suffice.
After a quick stagger to regain balance and after taking a moment to see if there was any blood running out of the cracks, it was time to just sit down and do nothing for a few minutes. Thankfully, at this point, there wasn’t even a nose bleed to contend with. I thought that to be odd because my nose has been known to easily bleed. Nevertheless, it was time to be thankful that I wasn't sharing my hemoglobin with the worms. Once the initial smack on the noggin was handled and reality pushed the fog back, things quieted down. It was also time to go inside and rest for awhile. The gophers would have to wait.
The aftermath was remarkable in that there wasn’t a residual headache, there were no black eyes, and there wasn't a broken nose! That worked for this old head basher especially knowing that a whack like this could take the prow off a Spanish caravel! After such an attitude adjustment, it looks like it may be quite awhile before Ol' Ran tries to shove a 9" thick tree limb aside using only brain power.
You don’t know Jack or How old can you go?: “Jack in
the Box” is celebrating its 70th birthday this year and they are
making a big “too do” about it. There are ads and banners just about everywhere. Connie the Canner glanced at their sign as we
passed the local “Junk in the Box” and commented that we were both older than
“Jack”. It’s so hard to express just how much that delighted our souls.
Well....there you have it: another short episode of the long
happenings at Rancho Relaxo, home of Rancho Ran, the world's foremost authority
(the previous one died): home of the Yo-Yo Twins: home of a retarded duck; home
of Connie the Canner (world's greatest side-kook): where the air smells like fried taters: where alliteration reigns supreme: where being modern is optional;
where there are no slaves to fashion: where things can get...interesting: where
it’s all news to me: and, where...you just never know.
