Greetings and welcome to the "Rancho Relaxo" blog for Decembre. This month's issue is not on time just like the previous 180 months or so. Things are still rather hectic around here, too. We're busier than a one-legged rodeo clown.
Anyway, the Ol' Rooster and Ol' Hen just wanted to share what's happening here at our humble rancho nestled in the hopin'-for- green foothills of the Sierra Nevada Mountains. This should be our last month of drought. In fact, it's supposed to rain tomorrow (though ony about a 50% chance). And, we're mighty grateful for the second "mad rain" we got not long ago. There's a rumor that the local Indian casino spent a lot of money on a "rain dancer" and a cloud seeder. So, there's hope, eh? Thanks for dropping in at the Rancho Relaxo happy huevos industrial complex.
Note: click on the pictures to enlarge.
A couple of months ago, this exact corner was the location of 8' tall skeletons, ogres, ghouls, monsters, and such. Why aren't Santas 8' tall?
Golden Corral W. Ming Ave. Bakersfield
We hadn't been to a GC in several years so it was decided to just up and get outta Dodge for part of a day. So, we mounted the Coop DeVille and headed to Bakersfield to knock over our favorite smorgy.
The main goal was to try to sample at least a small amount of most of the delicacies offered. Come to find out, there so many of them that, instead, I had to be satisfied just eating until I made money. You'll want to note that, when you over-eat, a great deal of your blood supply rushes to your stomach so that your brain won't be able to figure out why you ate until you ached.
That somnolent condition (post prandial fatigue) called for an immediate nap after we exited the building. There was a short dead-end road adjacent to the place so we just found some shade and laid back the seats. Neither of us could move for about an hour. That was great because I could just see us getting a ticket for "DWS" (driving while stuffed).
This is the dawn that greeted me when I went out to feed the chickens this morning.
Tip O' the day:
"Consumerism may be vulgar, but it beats hunger and poverty seven days a week" FEE (Foundation for Economic Education)
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It's December already! And, it's only two weeks until Christmas! Doesn't that just beat the thunder out of you?! Anyway....moving along........
Rancho Relaxo Report
Well…we finally did it. We took a day off so we could get some work done around here. Boy, oh, boy, was there a lot to do!
Chillin’ with Ran, the Reefer Man, or Cool, Dude!
Not long ago (but longer than the other day), our coolerator (thank you, Chuck Berry) was freezing on the top but the bottom part was not getting the message that it was "cool to be cool" . Great. Just what we needed, a stupid cold-free refrigerator.
The presenting issue was a common one so Ol’ Ran, the Reefer Man (the other reefer, silly), grabbed one flat and one Phillips screwdriver, nut drivers, and a big ol’ LED light, and went to work. Of course, to be able to work on the dang thang, you have to empty the contents and the glass shelves so….that was fun (the freezer was stuffed to the gunnels).Thankfully, there were three big ice chests available. They were immediately deployed and stuffed full of frozen goodies (found a few hidden treats, too!).
After denuding the ice box, the inside back wall covers (upper and lower) were unbuttoned and removed. The upper cover was the problem because the port between the freezer part and reefer part was completely occluded. The remedy was to take the cover to the sink and run hot water over the blockage until it was free of all ice. That didn't take long.
And, since you have the machine open and available, shouldn't you just up and scrub the thing down while you're at it? Yep, you should. Ol' Ran donned his "Scrubber Dude" hat and grabbed a bucket and some rags. By the time the scrubbing was done, it looked a lot like a new ice box. Connie the Canner was mighty pleased with the outcome.
After that, all the parts and pieces were reassembled and the freezer contents were returned to their rightful place. Some of the reefer stuff had been warm and/or out for too long so they were tossed.
Fun fact: during the first part of WW2, aircraft manufacturers switched to Phillips head screws. Their production rate was boosted by more than 20% because the mechanics didn’t have to stop and find and get another screw all of the time. They saved a ton of money, too.
Chickening report
Our dirty birdies are doing well and are happy and healthy. They should be; they eat better than half the world's population! Seriously! They eat fruits, veggies, and grains for practically every meal! They also have fresh water daily and there are many humans on the earth that can't say that (I'm most sorry to say, of course).
There is an issue during the cooler months, though, and that's the matter of the coop not drying out if too much water/rain has been introduced. "Someone" (can you spell "blame shifting"?) didn't notice that the water hose wasn't completely shut off and the forward coop flooded. Great. During the summer, that isn't an issue since it would be dry in only a few days. Not so during the cooler season.
This means that the Ol' Rancher has to don his trusty rubber boots/galoshes every time he deals with the bird herd. Since chickens are not at all a tidy bunch, they stomp through the mud and everything....as in everything....in the coop gets muddy. Also, mud is slick and if a person (e.g. an old rooster rouster like me) isn't acutely mindful, he becomes Sonja Henny but without the style. This leads to a mystical experience of simultaneously becoming one with with the mud and coming into unity with limitless pain (ask me how I know).
This dynamic of caution precipitates yet another practice and that's the one I call "The Chicken Coop Shuffle". Being cautious because of the mud also means taking extra care to not step on the cluckers. Most of birds are actually pullets and cockerels (the newest of them being fairly small). These little birds can flit and dart all over the place and, because they are fairly tame, they aren't afraid to get under foot. To avoid mashing one of them, I've gotten into the practice of only taking small steps and shuffling along the ground. There have been a few squawks but no injuries so far.
Water is our friend
A month ago, our well pump motor decided to croak. We immediately called the local long-time pump guy for help. It was cool since I knew him and some of his relatives. Well, well, well....he's no longer in the well business. Swell. It took awhile to search around and find another company but there's a well company out of Fresno who will be glad to help us. But, it'll cost us a couple of Benjamins to have them take a look.
Thankfully, though we can afford a couple of hun to do that, we also have options. It's possible that the bladder tank pressure switch may be faulty so it'll be checked prior to calling the professionals. In any case, the pump isn't working.
Now, to the good part. You would think that, because the pump was dead, we would have no water. Ah, but the Ol' Rancher is "Joe Backup" and was ahead of the game. We have a dedicated irrigation water supply that directs Tule River water to our "ditch" that runs around the hill above our place. So, when we had our 2,200 gallon water tank (used for fire suppression) installed, I had it and the ditch water plumbed into the main water line from the pump house.
No, the big tank won't be used for potable water (I have no need for green goo in our water lines) but it may be used in a "pinch" if we need non-potable water for whatever the exigency is. However, the ditch water is just clean river water that only needs to be filtered. That's why there are three filters used between it and the house. So, the old folks have plenty of water to go around. We do use bottled water for drinking as well. No worries. The pump should be up and running soon (we're not livin' on Tulsa time so only God knows when that could be).
Side note: we are saving about 150 dollars per month on electricity to run our pump. I had no idea!
Movin’ On or Mom’s Gotta Go
A week ago, my 96 year old mother moved into "Sierra Hills" assisted care facility. Due to a mis-communication, she wasn't ready when we arrived with "Wooley Pulley", our 5' x 8' stake-side trailer (with 48" removeable sides) . That meant the, instead of taking only a couple of hours to make the move (after church), we were busy for six hours. We started at 1:30 PM and finished at 7:30 PM. I don’t mind being the life of the party but truly hate being the wreck of the party. It took a couple of days to recover from the entire day which began at 5AM.
She's now settling in and doing well. There are folks out there that she knows and others, get this, she knows their...parents! Lots to talk about (and you just know how much mothers love to talk, eh?).
A couple of "kids" I went to high school with were there, too. It was great to see them. But....why are they so... old? Oh...yeah..
Turkey day
We had a peaceful and uneventful Thanksgiving Day. The old folks just stayed at home and "un-laxed" (thank you Amos and Andy). I don't recall even getting out of my bed pants. The rest was greatly needed even though it wasn't nearly enough to coax us back to normal.
Connie the Cooker made a traditional meal including the dead turkey and all the trimmings. We had leftovers for days but that's a good thing. Leftovers are our friends! Our doggies were treated with some of the offal and some of our leftovers. They committed to stay as along was we treated them like royalty.
How to fall out of bed without you don't even half try
I've experienced some strange things in my life but few are as strange as what happened recently. I was dreaming that I was on recon patrol in WW2 (I'm a WW2 history buff) and was watching a smallish (40' ?) Japanese troop transport boat land nearby. As the leader of the platoon started toward me, I began to fall back trying to not be discovered. As they drew nearer, I felt myself actually falling backward. It was at that point I exited the dream. Simultaneously, there was a sense of falling, a sharp pain on the left side of my head, and then an immediate noise of a human body making contact with the floor.
Being somewhat dazed, and having been violently ripped from a deep sleep and a really interesting dream (and not knowing if I would be captured. Dang!), it dawned on my that I had fallen out of bed! That was a first! It took a few seconds to regain a grip on reality.
There was another dream that I remembered from when I was about 4 years old. I was next to a creek and needing to urinate. So, I just unloaded into the creek (what a handy gadget to have on a picnic, eh?). But, it wasn't the creek; it was my bed! Lesson learn; don't trust dreams!
But, this? This was a real shocker! My attention was immediately drawn to the pain in the temporal region of my noggin. After palpating the area, it was determined that there was no significant denting (my grandmother called me "lumber head". How did she know?!). And, since there was only pain and no blood, there was no problem. What had happened was, when I fell from fantasy land back into the real world, my head smacked the night stand which was a 6" below the level of our bed (which is up high on stands since I park my guitars under it).
After letting the dust settle and after counting parts and pieces, it was determined that it would be OK to attempt to hoist the sleepy pile of injured flesh from ground level to see if there would be any dizziness. Nope; no dizziness. That's good news.
In the future, I think it would be great if I stopped stalking Japanese soldiers and just stick with shooting down Messerschmitts and such.
Anyway, may all y'all have a very merry Christmas and happy New Year! Grace and peace be multiplied unto you. The blessing of the Lord come upon you and overtake you. The Lord compass you about with favor as with a shield.
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.
