RANCHO WARMO SPRINGO

Greetings and welcome to the "Rancho Relaxo" blog for March. As you can tell, this month's issue is not on time and the striving to get two day's work done in one day has not abated. The Ol' Rooster and Ol' Hen just wanted to share what's happening here at our humble rancho nestled in the  awesome green and beautiful foothills of the Sierra Nevada Mountains that are bursting with regal flower blooms. Thanks for dropping in at the Rancho Relaxo global headquarters.

It's eggs-essential because...man does not live by bread alone. This is the haul for the day. There are brown, dark brown,  medium brown, tan, white, and green eggs with a duck egg tossed into the pile for good measure (upper left in the bowl). The "new girls" are shifting into their first season as "real producers" so we'll have heap plenty mucho eggs around the rancho. A couple of neighbors have expressed interest in obtaining some. So, we'll freeze dry a bunch, store some more (i.e. "water glassing"), sell some, and eat a bunch (huevos rancheros! Muy bueno! Bien saborsa!¡Ándale! Pronto!). 

Our previous clients were as sad as we were when we lost almost 70 of our birds a few years ago. Thankfully, we have new locals who have entered into the egg market so we shouldn't have too many disappointed neighbors. 

Strawberry fields? Naw; just one of the big trays of sliced strawberrys that Connie the Freezer is getting ready to toss into "Big Bertha", the big honkin' freeze dryer. It hasn't missed a beat since coming home from the factory where it had to be overhauled. It was fully under warranty so all is well. 

As usual, click on the pics to enlarge. 

For the expats: this is "Sequoia Dawn" after the extensive overhaul and refurbishment. I haven't had an opportunity to see the inside yet because it's not fully open to the public yet (at least, that's what I was told). They did a good job. Look at the new high-efficiency windows! Nice! They completely took out all greenery so the place looks a tad bear. My guess is that it will look fine in a couple of years after they re-landscape the place. 

I forgot that I had my "real" camera in the van with me or I could have had a wider angle shot. This was taken from the roadway in front of "Home Depot" (their parking lot in just to the right and out of view). Rainbows are our friends! 

This is the "miscellaneous shot" for the day. We were picking up some germanium cuttings from a generous neighbor (they're all generous up here in Springville!). It was hard to pass up such neato shots of her yard art. This time, the Nikon was at hand. Click! Click! Click! Click! Click! Click! Click!

Not that I'm trying to sell land in Springville, but I had to share another shot that expresses that we're not perennially the "land of burnt toast and roasted chickens". This was taken a few miles from us over on Campbell Creek Road. 

This is the stark contrast to the gorgeous picture above. It gets pretty ugly around here when we're experiencing a drought. Still, the foothills do maintain a certain beauty. The word "lush" really isn't used around here much. 

Tip of the Day:

   “You need to get glad in the same britches you got mad in” – Grandmas and Grandpas everywhere

 

 And now, a word from our sponsor:

 This issue of Rancho Relaxo is brought to you by “Classy Clara Cloomy’s Cloodle Clookers”. Now, these are the best Cloodle Clookers that money can buy! You cannot...I say...you cannot get a better Cloodle Clooker anywheres! And, folks, they're made right here in the good ol’ US of A. You can get your bountiful supply of “Classy Clara Cloomy’s Cloodle Clookers” at the Wal-Mart, KMART, Speedy Mart, Rapid Mart, Quick Mart, and all those marts where those guys have them towels wrapped around their heads. Tell'em the Ol' Rancher sent you. You'll be glad you did!

Holy guacamole, Batman! It’s March! We had a big storm stomp in the other day and I think it swept out a month or two with it when it left! Only 288 days until Christmas! What shall we do?! Moving along.....

Spring it on me! Or, Spring Cleaning Time Again and Again and Again: Worf, the Klingon, is a good warrior who always declares, "It is a good day to die". But, I can't help but think that, when spring arrives on the planet Klingon, Mrs. Worf, looks him in the eye and says, "Put down that Bat'leth, Bubba. It is a good day to clean!" and  hands him a mop. Most likely, the next nice warmish day, the two old people will not need such a prompt but will roll up their shirt sleeves and just dig in. 

Man! It's time for spring cleaning again and the thought of having to tear into my yeti cave is a daunting one. Really....I think the guy who wrote "The Wreck of the Ol' 97" probably peeked into my shop and was greatly inspired to start writing. It'll take 8 hours per day for a month to find the end of this tunnel. But, I may just let it go so that, when I die, some lucky guy will have a great “barn find” filled with antiques and collectibles…and a lot of junk. To quote my ol' pal, Jackie Gleason, "And, away we go!". 

 How high the moon or Reach for the sky: The other day (when lots of things happen around here), Connie the Canner needed some assistance reaching something from a shelf that was substantially higher than what her blessed-but-short arms could reach. She then called for me and said, “I need your tallness”. Standing an oft confirmed 6’2” from the ground to my crown, it was no strange thing for my manly services to be petitioned.

Of course, if you tempt Ol’ Ran with a low-speed straight-line, you just never know what will happen. “So, does my tallness mean the same thing as 'his highness?'”, I queried, hoping to perhaps gain a little elevation in status (or at least an “E for effort” for my swell attempt at humor). Well, if you are blessed with the gift of interpreting female facial expressions, you understand that I quickly knew that I wasn’t just pushing my luck, I was shoving it.

With a knowing grin that somewhat resembled that of a teacher catching a naughty boy in a naughty act, she dismissed the thought with a jiggle of the head, pointed, and said, “Reach”. It surely would have salved my ego if she would have at least called me Johnathan Winters or Buddy Hackett. 

Great Grindage! or Nibblin' the Noodles: Well...we did it again. We knocked over a Chinese buffet...again. You'd think that, after all of the previous gastric stress I've placed myself under eating Chinese food, I would know that I can't be trusted with a pair of chopsticks (this old noodle bender is mighty fond of Chinese food). 

Even after consuming countless Chinese dinners/lunches et. al., there are always the flashbacks of having worked as a dishwasher, busboy, and "gopher" at "Gang Sue's Chinese Restaurant" in Porterville when the wise Ol' Rancher was just a young dummy. The food was wonderful then. It's still good today but it's just not the same. I've eaten Chinese food in China Town in San Francisco, in many cities and states, and even in Ghana West Africa. But, you can note that there's never been an equal to Gang Sue's chow (no place, no how).  

Anyway, after laying waste to the shrimp and expending a ton of energy on the gnashing of teeth, I was aerodynamically suspect ("parasitic drag", don'tcha know) and overdue for a nap (I pair well with a nap). There just weren't going to be any transonic dashes that day. In fact, had I been a Grumman Aerospace product, I would have been called a “Snooze Cat”. So, the old folks just headed home and did just that. Nap city. Naps are our friends. 

A Cheesy Time or Spare me the cheese: From time to time, Connie the Canner grabs dated items from the refrigerator and declares that you know who gets to be a one-man clean up crew. So it was with a few chunks of cheese that she hauled out one day. 

I love cheese; no two ways about it. It's actually strange because, as a young fella, I hated cheese. It just wasn't my cup of Earl Grey. That was the way it was until the move to Illinois in '69. Within a very few years, I was eating cheese quite regularly. It must have been the fresh Wisconsin Swiss or the medium and sharp cheddar (at 88 cents per pound!!!) mixed with a big bag of pretzels. In any event, my life was changed for the better (there's more to the story. E-mail me). 

So, the old rat started gnawing on his newly garnered larder with alacrity. It was chased down by a customized drink consisting of ice tea with some additional flavors in it. Ah, but there's a catch (catches are not our friends). Cheese does something to one's metabolism that is quite impolite. It's as though cheese was invented by the same Romans that created Portland Cement. After the feasting, things got...quiet; really quiet. No movement at all. How disconcerting. Everything just stopped...up (Not a creature was stirring; not even a mouse stirred). 

It was a true "no go" situation the next morning! That was a temptation to be alarmed at because the Ol' Rancher's alter ego is Mr. Regular! So, things weren't moving along smoothly at all! Many thoughts raced through my mind as I sat there. This was how Elvis died. Great. Not many options when you're held captive in such a small space where there's no room to park a D-9 Caterpillar or any other real help. I was about ready to haul out the cell phone and start shopping Amazon for a thermal detonator suppository. The very thought must have frightened my descending colon something fierce. It wasn't much longer that heaving waves of peristalsis gave great relief to the matter. Note to self: go easy with the cheesy, dummy. 

Ribbit! Or, Croak! We’ll, it’s “froggy went’a courtin’” time again. Every spring, our rancho is inundated by a plethora of new Pacific Tree Frogs. Their discordant chorus hammers our night time without resile. Thankfully, though there are thousands of them (or so it seems), they are (mostly) far enough from the house so that we don't lose any sleep.  

You would think these little hoppers would have a difficult time traversing the 100’ or so from the ditch to the house. However, there are (obviously) some several super frogs that manage to make it to the house where they display their gymnastic prowess by climbing up and “decorating” our outside walls. There's just something wrong when there are frogs hanging on your walls. Thankfully, they either fall off or die off but they soon disappear until next year when they will exit their mud encasements and start all over again. 

Well....there you have it: another short episode of the long happenings at Rancho Relaxo (aka “Dos Acres”): home of Rancho Ran, the world's least-most greatest authority: home of the Yo-Yo  twins and  three ducks that we try to keep in a row (one of which is retarded): 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.