Rancho Está Muy Frío Afuera.

Greetings and welcome to the "Rancho Relaxo" blog for June. We’re running late with the post this month just like the previous two issues. And, like previously, there are lots of reasons for that but you will be spared most of them. In any case, the Ol' Rooster and Ol' Hen just wanted to share what's happening here at our humble rancho nestled in the quickly-browning foothills of the Sierra Nevada Mountains. Thanks for dropping in at the Rancho Relaxo global headquarters.

This is Rancho Ran, the Ol' Far....Farmer in his natural habitat. Notice the ultra-casual and comfortable attire. It's important to note that no dollar bills were injured in attaining such comfort. Notice that everything in the room just is (and with no room to spare). When he moves in any direction, something gets knocked over so he uses a seatbelt to contain himself. You're lucky that he allowed Connie the Canner to cut his hair or he would have passed for Samuel Clemens which would have made this picture unpresentable. 

OK....a "blast from the past" moment. I'm sure that everyone who reads the "Rancho Relaxo Report" just can't wait to see a picture of the Ol' Rancher when he wasn't even a rancher but just another stupid human on planet earth (I can prove that statement). This was taken in April of 1974 at 1700 N. Newcomb Street, Porterville, CA. The guy on the left, believe it or not, is the young Randy L. Minnick and his first wife, Vicki Marie (nee Carter) Minnick. Notice how I tower over her. That didn't seem to factor into our marriage for some reason. 

To the right is my youngest brother, Steven Craig Minnick (Dec. 6, 1953 - July 3, 2014) and his first wife, Cleta. Notice that he  towers rather significantly over her while she under-towers Vicki (who stands at 5' 1 1/2"). That didn't seem to factor in much either because that marriage failed a few years later as did mine. 

In the background with his back towards us and playing the guitar (and completely oblivious to anything happening around him, as usual), is my brother, David Ray Minnick (Dec. 21, 1950 - Dec. 10, 1979). 

At the bottom of the picture is my very young daughter, Jennifer Lou. She's a big girl now and has presented us with three beautiful children who also have children (making us OLD great-grand parents). 

To the right is Abbie after a tough bout with a local bobcat. Seems she took exception to his daring to wander into her territory. She paid a hefty price for her bravery, though. This was to be the first of two expensive bouts. The second bout was only a week later when she took on the neighbor's massive bulldog. She lost both fights but continues to recover (albeit, slowly). 

Part of recovery, of course, involves resting. Though she has a large and comfortable bed on the patio, Abbie elected to park in one of our flower boxes for a nap. Whatever. 

This is a very unusual picture in that it's a shot of a never-seen-before (by yours truly in at least 60 years) thunderstorm at this time of year. Usually, such storms are far later in the summer and they are without but a few rain drops. This storm had real rain. But, other than a few hot days, we've had far cooler temps than normal. Guess what? NO ONE is complaining!! 

OK number 2...here's your boat load of "Awwwwww" for the day. Some folks have parakeets while we have a "pair of cutes". In the background are the two other cuties. They appear to be getting their beauty  rest. 

Among the many hats she wears, Connie the Canner is a consummate and caring "Chicken Grandma" (sort of has a ring to it, eh?). These little guys can expect the best of care while under her watch. 

Here's the "freebie" for the day. This is a "Mexican Palm Tree". We have a lot of them in this area. Seems some salesman (who must have been very good at his trade) in the 1920's sold the local yokels on the benefits of having an extremely tall tree that does nothing else and has no particular benefits (like making coconuts) but to suck water from the ground. Given where we live and, given the need to try to mitigate the  withering summer sizzle in the San Joaquin Valley, you would have thought that they would have laughed at him and then screamed, "We need something that gives us some shade, you moron!" Who knows.

And now, a word from our sponsor. This issue of Rancho Relaxo is brought to you by Lucky Linda’s Laddy Loody Lobbers.  Now, these are the best Laddy Loody Lobbers that money can buy! They're made right here in the US of A. You cannot...I say...you can't get a better Laddy Loody Lobber anywhere! You can get your bountiful supply of Lucky Linda’s Laddy Loody Lobbers at the Wal-Mart, KMART, Speedy Mart, Rapid Mart, Quick Mart, and all those marts where them guys have those towels wrapped around their heads. Tell'em the Ol' Rancher sent you. You'll be glad you did!

       

                      "You ain't seen the las' of Ernest T. Bass!"

 

Well…here we go again. Time is sizzling by like it was hooked to an SR-71 Blackbird.  We’ve reached the middle of the year and it’s for certain that I’m only prepared for the first part. What on earth?

I hate to gripe, complain, and otherwise bellyache. But, I reckon that time has somehow gotten away from me. It just up and pounced on me like a cat on a red dot. I once was young and full of vim and vigor but now I’m just old and full of other nouns (none of which start with a “V”). 

To tell you how old I am, I used to get the Denny’s “Grand Slam” breakfast for 1.99!! No kidding! And, gas was only 28.9 cents per gallon! That was the regular price and not during the price wars when you could get a fill up for 19.9 cents per gallon! Burgers were 15 cents and fries and Cokes were a dime! Shoot! You could buy lunch for 50 cents and get change back! You could do the week’s shopping for way less than ten bucks! I remember the time in 1958 when a loaf of “Bunny Bread” was 28 cents. Unreal! Moving along to the Rancho Report. 

 "To Costco we shall go. To Costco well shall go. High ho, the merry-o, to Costco we shall go" (in the key of "F", for all you banjo players our there): Depending upon the circumstances, it's great to get to escape to a "real town" like Visalia. I mean, they have just about everything there. It's almost like Fresno where you can throw a rock and hit a great place to throw money at food! Of course, being old folks, we don't throw much money very far. We are selective with our light weight coin heaving and elect to dine at modestly-priced places like "Raising Cane's" at Mooney Blvd and Caldwell. But, we're not limited to such a modestly-priced-but-great-place to eat. 

Costco is a true highlight for us. Not only do we get to pick up a few bargains and hit the freebie sample stations (oh, do we ever), we often avail ourselves of one of the most superlative of specials which is their hot dog and soda combo for....get this...1.50!! Hot doggies!! My, but they’re good! Depending upon our schedule, we can sometimes eat the hot dog special at about noon and then pick up something else prior to returning to Treadmill, USA. 

Another great place to lighten your wallet is Popeye's. We recently went there on a culinary pilgrimage to Visalia not long ago (it was actually a business trip but pilgrimage sounds more inviting). I must say that I've always loved fried chicken and was spoiled by my grandmother's cooking (and so were you!). But, Popeye's has the best fried chicken sandwich and fried chicken that you can get for under 20 bucks in the state. Their Cajun fries are OK and I don't complain at all. But, I really dig the old fashioned, fresh-out-of-the-grease, crinkle-cut fries. So, it's some times a toss-up between Cain's and Popeye's. On this trip, though there is a Popeye's on Noble Ave in Visalia, we elected to go to the one on Cherry Ave. in Tulare. It just sort of worked out the way and required a tad less driving. Popeye's is our friend! 

By the time we get home from shopping all day and we unload our haul, we're too tired to suck the skin off a custard. In such a state of exhaustion, if the little mouse's hands haven't reached 4PM, we'll take a nap (naps are our friends). Unfortunately, we arrived much later than than so we skipped the nap so that we wouldn't be up all night long looking for things to do. 

The Hawaiian Water Mess or The Sneaky Leaky: I hate  water leaks worse than Jenks, the cat, hates “meeses to pieces”. However, I couldn't help but notice that, where water exists, leaks are sure to follow. C'est la vie. So, the other day (when lots of things happen around here), Connie the Do-all lady advised that there was water in our walk-in closet (one of the last places on earth you need to water). "Great", says the Ol' Rancher. "Just what I need".  

The first order of business was to pull the carpet back and see if you can determine the source of the leak. It was quickly discovered that water was coming in from the opposite wall directly where the Maytag washer is working for its pay. That was actually a good thing since the master bedroom restroom abuts the adjacent wall and it can also leak. However, it is restroom plumbing that can be a source for another type of leak and that's a  "slab leak". That would be some really painful news because it involves a jackhammer and busting up the concrete slab under the house.  

A large floor fan was set up to dry out the work area and carpet. The wall was already circumscribed with the dark stain of wetness  so there wasn't any issue figuring out how much drywall to hack out and replace. 

The leak came from a water connector hose on the washer. There's a "Y" adapter section that had somehow managed to twist loose and it started leaking. Thankfully, there is a drain under the washer. However, it seems that the water flow was greater than the drain's ability to receive it. So, it just found its way into the walls. Great. 

The damaged drywall was scribed, cut, and removed then measurements were taken. All reserve drywall had been used so a new slice had to be appropriated the next day. After getting the drywall, three pieces were measured and cut out. One was for the wall in the closet; one was for the wall behind the washer. And, one was for the master bathroom ceiling above the shower that "someone" forgot to recover after the previous unwelcomed leak. Thankfully, my pay wasn't docked for that oversight and lax maintenance around here. 

We use premixed mud so it didn't take long to fit, mud, and tape the repairs. If there is enough energy to go around before too long, the sanding and texturing will be completed and a fresh coat of paint will be applied. I just need a day off so I can get some work done around here. 

Doggie Report and Puppy Prankster: Let's start with Fuzzy. You'd think that a well-fed and well-cared for (for the most part; he needs another bath) pooch would appreciate having a large comfortable bed to sleep on. NOPE. Not my friendly, affable, playful, goofy, pal, FuzzBall. No, sireee. He's turned into Darth Fuzz…destroying bedding and pillow just for the (twisted) fun of it. He actually goes out of his way to perpetrate his crimes. It's premeditation (or at least a predilection). "Fuzzy the Destroyer" just doesn't have a ring to it. 

One of his latest dismemberments left us cleaning up foam rubber from here to what seemed like Lindsay (15 miles as the Ch-47 Chinook flies)! UGH! It was a really nice soft pillow bed and I thought that it would last for a long time. Abbie would curl upon on it and snooze away. For Fuzzy, it was an enemy to eradicate. *SIGH*

 Not long ago (but longer than the other day), we came home  from church at about 8:30 PM only to find that Abbie didn't quite look right. She was limping and just wasn't herself. Upon further evaluation, we found that she had been in a fierce and brutal altercation with something big and bad. 

Upon closer examination, we found that she had a large laceration in her side and two smaller lacerations on her back. Then, there were two approximately 9mm puncture wounds in her left thigh and hindquarters. It was posited later that she likely engaged a bobcat. Those puncture wounds corresponded closely to the fangs of a bobcat and a bobcat was seen in the vicinity the next day. She was bloody but the bleeding seemed to have stopped or, at least, was at a minimum. My lightning fast mind noted that, "This isn't good". 

We cleaned and covered her wounds and prepared bedding for her in our back bathroom just off the laundry room and near the rear door. For the next few days, she rested and regained some strength. Her appetite returned and things were looking up. 

There seemed to be no real reason why we couldn't let her remain outdoors and get some fresh air. This would also help the wounds to heal more quickly. But, this is Rancho Relaxo and you just never know what can happen. 

I was upstairs when Connie, in an  unusually loud voice, called for me to come down. When I got outside in the back, Abbie was coming onto the back porch. She had been brutalized again! Only, this time, it was far worse than before. The new neighbor's massive bulldog had forayed into our back yard and Abbie, who was already in a bad mood, very likely took exception to the intrusion. The two dogs tangled and the bulldog gained superiority in no time. Thankfully, the neighbor heard the ado and called for the bulldog to come back. She obeyed and the fight was over. But, Abbie had been severely brutalized. Frankly, it was a close call. Had the neighbor not been so responsive, there could not have been a good ending to this battle. 

She's doing OK now. We're taking good care of her and keeping her wounds clean and cared for. She's in a fairly good mood and still has a good appetite. We'll keep everyone posted. 

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