Rancho Blessings

 This is a shot of the garden boxes looking northwest from the neighbors long driveway. Part of the barn is visible at the left. Behind the garden boxes is the well house. Directly behind the barn is the dog kennel but this pic is a day or so prior to it being erected.





A hog farm is moving into the neighborhood and directly ...across....the.....street from us. This ought to be...um... interesting.

 Ain't she a beaut?! One of the many yellow crooked neck squash wending its way into our world. It'll be canned or sautéd or perhaps even dehydrated for later use (we have a dozen dehydrators so there are options).




We are pleased with our new 10' x 10' dog kennel/trash protection system. No more trash strewn from here into the next county. I just don't have time to do the cleanup work. I posted "KEEP OUT" signs but someone forgot to teach the critters to read. *Sigh*

The "igloo". What a handy gadget. She's covered with "SnoCoat" sealer and stiffened up a bit too. The new door and new floor are solid as a rock! We will park our gas and kerosene cans, propane tanks, and yard tools in here. The near end has 24" shelves while the opposite end is open for the cans. There is an option to get a diamond plate ramp, too. I may just use a chunk of plywood. Who knows.


"You've got bees!". If we can keep the ants defeated and if we can keep the bees happy, there should be a lot of honey around here next springtime. So far, so good. Yes...we do have an "EpiPen".

"Hey! A wascally wabbit!". Yeah...we have our share of wabbits around here. I killed and cleaned one a couple of years ago. It didn't taste at all like the ones from Kansas. Toooooo gamey for this old not-so-great white hunter. Perhaps at another time when the dog develops a distaste for what's now on her menu. She seemed to like my lovingly prepared rabbit back then.

We have corn in the ear so it won't be all that long before we can chunk an ear or two into the pot. I usually smother my ears with butter, salt, and pepper. It usually takes awhile to clean up my diligently engineered mess (two days is too much, eh?) so we don't do corn on the cob all that often.







Once in awhile I just feel like sharing some of the blessings that are happening here at the ranch. That’s particularly true when I sometimes rant a bit about how tired we get from being as busy as we are (is that proper sentence structure?).

We are truly blessed here at “Rancho Relaxo”. For instance, our garden is taking over the neighborhood. For it to grow at all is a major blessing given that we couldn’t beg the thing to cough up much of anything last year. Connie just harvested a handful of zucchinis and yellow crook necked squash for the sauté pan. They were quite good! The strawberries (remembering that we didn’t get a single berry last season) have overcome their hurdles and have bloomed to bounty!

The corn is as high as an elephant’s eye (which really isn’t all that high as I recall but it is growing rapidly). The squash is taking over the place and “Connie the Canner” will be slicing and dicing herself silly and shoving parts and pieces into canning jars soon.

The Okra Winfrey (groan) is growing by seems to be a bit lazy this season (as compared to last year when it had been replaced [by the Gypsies, no doubt] with plastic clones that didn’t do anything but take up space). Once it kicks itself into gear, we should have plenty to can, fry, and toss into a gumbo.

You may recall that the word, “gumbo” is the original African name for okra. Seems that white folks didn’t want to be associated with anything that black folks like. Still, they did like the rather tasty corn meal breaded and fried treat so they simply renamed it to "okra" (probably a shortened version of "Oklahoma fried! Rah! Rah! Rah!"). How convenient. Some folks say that they don’t like the slime but I would point out that, if they have slimy okra, they are boiling it by itself and not with other ingredients. Fried okras isn’t slimy at all and is one of the greatest of summer harvest delights.

The bell peppers are healthy so we can count on them for spicing up our soups and chili. We have reds, yellows, and greens which should give us some options. Options are our friends.

We have resumed out beekeeping efforts. Our dear friend and brother, Dave Kruze and his wife, Maryann, brought over a herd of them not long ago. After helping them nab another swarm, we now have 4 hives with 9 boxes. The bees appear to be prospering and have not registered a complaint by leaving their digs. This is particularly true after we fought off an attack of small ants. A few weeks ago, the ants plagued another new hive to the point that they up and moved to another neighborhood.

I donned my white space alien bee suit, gloves, and huge screened helmet, grabbed my smoker, and fed my charges some sugar water (with nutritive additives) to keep them going until they can store enough honey to hold them through the winter. It is post “bloom” season and they may not find sufficient flowering around here to warrant sticking around for the long haul.

Dave advised that we should leave the bees alone and not take their honey this year but rather to wait until next year. We can do that. It’ll be worth the wait because we will have a lot of orange honey (we have large orange groves nearby and have 20+ orange trees here at Rancho Relaxo). Good stuff!

Connie just overhauled our bathroom. She put in beautiful white wainscoting and painted the upper wall light blue. That will look great with the new 24” sink, counter top, and new fixtures that replaced the 19” one that was there prior. Also, she had a local contractor put in a nice set of white built-in floor-to-ceiling custom shelves that match everything. We had a tall-but-narrow stand alone shelf in there but it wasn’t big enough to suit us. There were some other tweaks that she had them do and it’s looking sweet.

The computer biz is moving along. I’m still the village blacksmith but it’s obvious that folks like me will not be needed in a few years. The technology is simply moving on without us. That’s not a bad thing. I can always focus more on ministry and such. I will always have a “dinosaur” running though. Fat on the “Cloud” and small screen toys! I need a full-sized e-v-e-r-y-t-h-i-n-g. Yes, I am an old Luddite, but I don’t care! I am comfortable with being an old fuddy duddy and I’m not apt to change any time soon (we fuddies don’t  cotton to change)!

Speaking of ministry and such, our church is doing great! We just had our monthly pot-faith (sounds better than pot luck, eh?) which reinforced the fact that there are some great cooks in our group! I dialed in on some homemade chili and couldn’t seem to keep my spoon dry. Good eatin’.

We also have the newly re-instituted “Soup Wednesday” which is on the second Wednesday of the month. Looks like we will have plenty of “daily bread” around there. I'm keepin' my trusty crockpot warm and at the ready!

The church is growing and we have much peace now that they have a leader who is a man of peace. There is still a lot of things that need to be attended to but we are moving along steadily.

 

Then, there's the "igloo". The "igloo" is actually an old fiberglass cargo container retired from "Flying Tiger Airlines" (bought out by FedEx) that flew countless miles in the belly of a Boeing 747. It's rather large and can hold all kinds of things. So, instead of building a small storage shed (we actually tried that once before and ended up with a barn!), we overhauled the igloo. Now that it has been fixed up, it's easily movable without having to use a D-6 Caterpillar. It didn't take all that long until it was patched, painted, and parked and sporting a new exhaust turbine and some shelves. The plan is to keep our tools and fuels in there. Our gasoline, kerosene (we have a lot of kerosene lamps), and our propane tanks have been in the open air in the pole barn as of late but that's going to change now that we have a lockable storage shed available.  

And, wait folks, there's more (your "Ginzu Knife" commercial for the day)! Sitting out by the pole barn, there's a recently assembled 10' x 10' dog kennel that makes for a perfect trash container enclosure. A tarp cover for the top is on order so we can keep our trash and rubbish tidy and dry. The local critters (of which there are no few) will have to learn to survive without our assistance (and someone needs to teach them to look both ways when crossing the highway too because some of them ain't paying attention).

Connie and I have been yard sale’ing a bit since the weather has warmed up. Talk about blessings! We stopped at an estate sale the other day and loaded up on some goodies that included some vintage books. We got a stack of 7 vintage hard bound books for about ten bucks. After getting them home, I started stuffing them onto eBay along with some books about Corvettes. Within three hours we had sold one book for 12 dollars and we had a starting bid on another for 19.95!  Connie loaded up three dozen canning jars for....$5.00! Zowie! She also found a country style bench flower stand too (which she took home and repainted it and made it look like new)! It fits the rancho perfectly!

At one place, just about everything we bought was for 2 dollars or less in spite of the fact that some of the items were quite expensive (i.e. there was a 105.00 pair of women's high heels from Nordstrom's that straightaway went on eBay)! They guy even sold me a 300 dollar color video camera for an RV (so you can see while backing up and such) for ….get this…40 bucks. It wasn’t junk either! He didn't want to sell it at all but he was being forced to move because they had lost their home (there’s a lot of that going on around here) and were up against the clock and literally couldn’t wait for better prices. They had to be out in two days and were basically throwing stuff at us and we had sense enough to catch it. If that doesn’t make your yeast rise, the same man called us back the next day and asked us if we wanted the entire tailings of the yard sale! We assured him that we did because (most of) it wasn’t junk! Ol’ Ran hooked up the trailer and we hauled it off for him!

Some of the "wasn't junk" stuff, was in a "junk box" that he was planning to take to the e-waste depot in Porterville. I advised him that I had an e-waste pile that a local man hauls off when we call and that I would be glad to take it for him. He was thrilled. I was thrilled too when I dug thought it and found a like-new cassette player. I guess his son was not all that excited about the old technology that has served so well for 40 years but I was! It can be used to record teachings at church until I can get a digital recording studio set up. A Compaq laptop was also in the mix. It was DOA but the power cord will sell on eBay for 10 bucks or so. The screen will sell for 25 dollars or more. There were other items of great interest in there that I didn't overlook.
 

At another yard sale, I picked up a box of “junk” electronics for 10 dollars that had four wireless LAN adapters in the bottom of it (each worth 30 clams)! There we also wireless access points, a wireless router, and all kinds of other goodies for a wire head like me. Then, there was yet another box of similar stuff that no one wanted so I bought that one for 15 dollars. I then tallied the two boxes and I quit counting when I got to about 250 dollars worth of stuff! Not too bad of a day for an ol’ computer dude, I’d say!

Last week a friend and client of ours got a new computer and called us to set it up for her at her place of business in Delano (about an hour southwest from here). After doing all of that, she gave us her old computer which actually had nothing wrong with it (her granddaughter hopes to inherit the new one and didn't want the old one. No problem). So, we now have a nice (though older) computer, flat screen monitor, mouse, and keyboard! Such a deal! We usually give stuff like this away to folks in the church after I tune it up and maybe even upgrade the operating system to Vista (seed to sow, don’tcha know).

Newly hatched grandbaby, Moire Annaliese Howden, is fat, happy, and sweet as a bucket of cupcakes. She is about 10 weeks old and couldn’t be doing better. Her parents are quite proud of this fifth edition to their clan. We went down to see the dedication at their church not long ago on the evening before Mother’s Day. The rest of the grandkiddies are doing great too!

Anyway, that’s the news from “Rancho Relaxo”. Stay tuned to see what is happening around here. I know that I can’t wait to find out just what new blessings will arrive and how the soon-to-arrive hog farm will work out without anyone getting killed. I wanted to do what the sign said and give them a shout “for more info” and ask, “Reckon how long will it take you to move back out?”.

Likewise,  the Schwinn Meridian (adult) tricycle is almost assembled. Can’t wait to take her for a stroll. Most likely, I’ll let the 1.25 hp Honda motor do most of the work, though. As you may have already noted, I am convenience oriented.

Don't touch that dial.

 

 

Whale of a Deal!

We’ll….it was about time Ol’ Ran and Miss Connie got out of Dodge for a few days for some R&R (or, more accurately this time, S&E, sleeping and eating). It had been quite awhile since we had flown the coop (and were still associating with a few turkeys) so I decided to just ditch the rancho and go to the coast. Farm livin’; that’s the life for me, to be sure. But, I knew that the air is nice and clean at Morro Bay. Besides, we really did need a break from the Valley and our work load. We had so much on our plate that we were getting gravy on the floor.

Not only that, besides having dirty air to breathe, a rancho (at least this one) just doesn’t have any whales to watch! Guess what? Morro Bay just happens to have whale watching tours this time of year! Zowie!

It has been about 25 years or so since I’ve been on a boat and out in the Pacific Ocean to watch gray whales migrate along the coast. Connie had yet to have the experience so I wanted her to have the chance to do so. I was about to call it a “pleasure” but “experience” is a bit closer to reality this time around. We ran into some real life hindrances almost from the git go.

Our usual protocol is to have everything ready the night before. Then, in the morning, after milking the cows, feeding the chickens, and bucking the hay (you ain’t buyin’ into this part are you?), we load the hoopie and head out for whatever part of a map is still stuck in the 1982 "Rand McNalley Road Atlas".  

Actually, we know the way to Morro Bay. It isn’t all that far at about 188 miles. That’s “just around the corner” in California terms. Anyway, we loaded up the dump-van (slight smaller than a dump truck but used for much the same purposes) and forged ahead.

The problem is that we started out entirely too tired and taxed to attempt this gig. Despite our high hopes, we started with a “low battery” which simply drained more from there.

After almost four hours of abusing our sweet cheeks, we arrived in Morro Bay. It was Thursday about 6PM  which means that it was later than planned due to unforeseen obstacles. There was jsut no way to break away any earlier. So, we cashed in our reservation at the “Travelodge” motel (so we could wake up and smell the curry) and took up camp. In almost no time, I was “un-laxed” and in bed catching up on a bit of the “History Channel” (we only watch TV when traveling or when at someone else’s house). At about 8PM, our tummies began to let us know that the last of our “Taco Bell” lunch was gone and that we had forgotten to eat din din.

“Oh, man! Back to street clothes again?”, I asked Connie. “Can I just go in my jammies?”, I asked with my lip hanging down so low that I could suck a marble out of a gopher hole. “Not today!”, she declared tersely. “We don’t need the pastor of our church getting bailed out of jail for being goofy and stupid”.

“Well, I guess you’re right but I don’t get arrested for being goofy and stupid when I have my street clothes on so what’s the diff? Besides, every other person I see in Wal-Mart has their jammies on”, I argued as plaintively as I could.

She looked at me right straight into my pretty brown eyes and, with all wifely authority (which is usually employed to keep husbands from making fools of themselves), “You’re not in Wal-Mart and you are not a Wal-Martian so get dressed”. I did get dressed but it didn’t make my dinner taste any better.

Near the motel is a super nice restaurant called, “Dutchman’s” (a different sign outside says, "Flying Dutchman"). Though only six blocks away, we drove there. Talk about “tired”. Sheese.

They had cioppino (Italian seafood stew in a tomato soup base) on the menu so, since I hadn’t had a cioppino since 1985, I opted for that. Connie dug into their primo fish and chips. My opinion is that their fish and chips excels all others in Morro Bay and Pismo (25 miles farther south). The only place that I can think of that was as good was in Pismo and its no longer in business. I found out later from a friend that we could have gone to "Jocko's" in Nipomo but it was a bit late for that.

Having taken care of alimentary enhancement, we promptly retired for the night. We hadn’t done anything but drive and eat and were bushed. Lights were out at about 10 PM.

The next morning saw me heading across the parking lot for the coffee pot in the motel office (seems I overlooked the one they provided in the room in the dressing alcove. Swell). Lo and behold, the office was not open for their continental breakfast though half the day was gone. Actually, it was 6:30 AM but the day was well started and most motel's offices are open at 6 AM or so. A peek at the fine print on the office door advised that they would open up at about 7:30 AM. Great. That must save them a lot of money on breakfasts since most people are usually gone by 7 AM.

With eyes only partially pried open I trudged across the street to “Carla’s Country Kitchen” where it only took five minutes to be waited on though the place was far from busy. It looked like it could be a long day in Morro Bay. I didn’t know how right I was. Anyway, the service was lousy but at least the coffee was nasty. The stuff was akin to tractor crankcase oil. John Deere would be proud.  

You would think that I would learn from such experiences. Nope. After Connie rounded up her ducks and, after loading up the van, we drove the few feet across the street to “Carla’s” (I am not lazy. But, I am convenience oriented).

You know, doesn’t it make sense to think that, in a tourist town, a café or restaurant needs to be something special and that it should stand out from the average greasy spoon that can be found in every modest sized city in America? I’ve been to “Carla’s” twice now and this will be my last time. The chow was middling but I didn’t come almost 200 miles for merely OK food.

This brings us to a “Randy Rant”: for one thing, biscuits are to be baking powder biscuits and not yeast biscuits. You cannot, I repeat, cannot, call yourself a “country kitchen” when you serve city biscuits. I would give the place a pass if they had called themselves “Carla’s City Kitchen”.

And, for another, gravy is supposed to have a taste. I maintain that, even if it tastes like it was made in the bottom of one of my grandfather's waders, it should have a taste. Paste has no taste. The only place I've found whose gravy was worse was a small diner across from Lake Cocolalla, ID (between Couer D' Alene and Sandpoint). Theirs tasted like wallpaper glue.

It is also my perception that food (especially hash brown potatoes) should be served at least warm enough to make one think that they were cooked the same day. I was disappointed enough to just leave the stuff on the plate but I was also Scotch enough to finish my plate and not waste the food. Sorry, Carla. You won’t be seeing Ol’ Ran again. Because the service was (barely) reasonable and the food arrived in a timely manner (unlike the previous time), I give them "2 Stars".

Our tour boat, christened “Dos Osos” (Spanish for “two bears”…huh?), was provided by “Sub Sea Tours” of Morro Bay. I couldn't help but giggle to myself about the name of the place. I guess I was envisioning watching whales from under the ocean. The departure was scheduled at around 9 AM. We thought to arrive early lest there be any surprises (old people hate surprises).

The day was bright and sunny with a light offshore breeze. It was a bit of shock that we didn’t have the marine cloud layer that is so typical of the coast. We later learned that whale watching had been cancelled for the previous week or so due to high winds.

The craft, powered by a pair of 25 hp Honda engines, was a nice 33’ barge of sorts that was capable of seating about 22 people. Given that dynamic, I was pretty certain that we weren’t going very far and weren’t going to get there very fast. You just can’t beat the laws of physics when there’s that much parasitic drag at your disposal.

Though a sunny day, and though the seas presented only minor chop, it was rather cool, to say the least. We had dressed appropriately in anticipation of the cold but we should have been more prepared. Connie wasn’t able to enjoy the event due to focusing most of her energy on maintaining enough body heat to stay alive. This will likely be her first and last time to brave the ocean blue on an open barge. 

After heading north up the coast from Morro Bay for about an hour, we spotted a whale! “Thar she blows! Eleven o'clock!”, bellowed the captain  as he pointed off the port bow at the spout of a gray whale. I think he derives great joy in yelling that knowing that his passengers will be giving great reports of their exciting whaling adventure with Captain Ahab. I quickly glanced about for a flensing knife but didn't see one.  

The captain wasn’t at all a crusty old sea salt as one might imagine. Rather, he was an affable and quite humorous middle-aged fellow with a quick wit (sharpened no doubt by years of practice before a captive audience). It was difficult to hear him due to the ambient wind and motor noises but he did try to clue us rubberneckers in on whale migration and such. He was quick to point out that floatation devices were available and that, should trouble arise, he and the first mate would quickly don them and swim to shore to get help for us. What a hoot!

After bobbing around about 1.5 miles directly offshore from Cayucos (home of dear friend and professional musician, Alen “Jackson” Wallen), we fell into the “deal of the day” when a juvenile gray whale began breaching not far from us. After the rash of picture taking,  the first mate/deck hand/tour guide advised that it was probably the first trip north for this whale and that he was breaching to get his bearings. For whatever reason the whale was doing his thing, it was quite spectacular and worth the hardship to see this marvelous creature cavorting in the ocean.

The timing was rather perfect as it was soon time to head back to the harbor. The captain pointed our little wave masher south while we all gabbed about how fortunate we were to have seen the whales. All-in-all, I really can’t complain as we did get what we paid for and a bag of cold wind. We did a lot in only 3.5 hours and it only cost us about what most couples would spend for two trips to a theater to watch a movie and buy a bag of popcorn (we have been to one move in two years and experienced “sicker shock” even at the matinee price).

 

Speaking of popcorn, as an aside: a large bag of popcorn is now $8.50! You can get a "deal" by purchasing a large popcorn and soda for a mere.....$13.50! None for me, thanks.

Now, get this; we debarked and strolled the one block to the parking lot. We got in to the van, looked at each other, and said, “Is it nap time yet?”, and promptly took a nap for an hour. There wasn’t enough energy between us to even get out of the parking lot.

Our hope was to head north to Cayucos and see “Jackson” and his wife. It has been a couple of years since we had the opportunity to hug their necks. Also, when at the coast, we usually track down a yard sale or two and then knock over a couple of thrift stores while we’re at it. That didn’t happen. With only a quick stop to refill my Diet Pepsi jug, we headed straight home without even stopping for lunch.

When we arrived back at the ranch, we had hoped to just settle in and recover from the trip. That didn’t happen either. Business and what all kept us hopping (I hate to hop) until 11 PM at which time we simply collapsed into the rack. It took a week to recover.

My guess is that there may be no elective long distance trips for awhile. We did have to go to Harbor City/Torrance for grandson, Kuyper’s, birthday party the next day (Saturday) but we just took it easy.  Two long trips in just a few days is too much fun for the non-dynamic non-daring duo from Springville.

Stay tuned for the next event(s) coming from “Rancho Relaxo”. It could be …..interesting what with the garden blooming wildly and all.

April Showers Bring May Flowers to Rancho Relaxo….NOT TODAY!

I guess I should say, “NOT QUITE YET AND I AIN'T HOLDIN' MY BREATH!”. You see, this is central California. We don’t do rain here. In fact, I think I heard that it was against the law to rain here!

 

You need to understand that, when it does rain, it doesn't make things grow; it just makes a mess of things. That's why we lament a “40% chance of rain” forecast. Let’s put it this way: a 40% chance of rain here means that there is a 100% chance that there will be just enough rain trickling from the clouds to make a mud hole of your car. That’s right! It doesn’t rain enough to even wash the car of your Mulberry tree’s droppings (or the bird droppings for that matter)! UGH! You come out to your car and cast an eyeball on it only to find that you only see brown. You don’t actually see the color of the paint.

Head for the car wash? Hah! You can’t because there is a 30% chance of rain that night. In reality that means that there is a 110% chance of your car becoming a mud pie again.

 

It has rained so little that we don't have enough flowers around here to even feed the bees. Connie finally did purchase some really pretty Pansys, though. Other than that, the wildflowers are gone and the weeds are on patrol to see that nothing else pretty blooms.

All seriousness aside, we do need what little rain we get around here. Our annual rainfall is about the equivalent of a week’s worth of rain in Tulsa so things stay sort of dry. Did I say, “sort of dry”? I meant to say, sort of toasted. We go from what little green we get in the winter to “California gold” in just a couple of weeks when April hits.

I think tomorrow's rain (or, dribble), was late for the train because it usually stops raining in March and we don’t see wetness until we go swimming in the lake or until October gets here.

If that isn’t enough to lift your elevator to the top floor, just when we run out of cloud-supplied water, our irrigation ditch water is shut off for 6 weeks for its annual maintenance overhaul (a state wide practice). I haven’t looked into the matter very deeply but I wouldn’t be surprised if this is vacation time for the ditch tenders and the supervisors. After all, just tell me what can go wrong with a ditch whose only moving part is the water? It is never flooded so there are no breaches in it and it’s only 2 feet deep. Hrumph.

I mean…just how are we supposed to water our lawn and garden without utilizing our pump? We pay good money (well…it’s fake money so I guess it’s lousy money but at least the ink is dry) for our ditch water. They should at least let us use it once in awhile.

When they do turn the water back on, I’ll need to have all of my irrigation system overhauled and ready. My impulse sprinklers and hoses are a mess from last year so I need to get the bowling balls out of my pockets and pick up a bit of steam around here.

That’s hard to do (picking up steam). My steam generator isn’t really putting our much pressure lately. Seems about a bucket of steam is all I can come up with. Just thinking about it makes me want to relax and go let off what little steam I have somewhere near a trout laden river. *SIGH*. What is an over-weight middle-aged white guy supposed to do?

Connie’s has commenced planting the “Rancho Garden” (or the "Stay Alive Garden" if the US economy turns to dust before our eyes). We have our four above ground 8’ x 8’ boxes filled with compost. So far, most of the plants have survived the first few days of life. You laugh…but…..we have a perfectly good blueberry bush that was planted in this same compost last year and it has not grown so much as one inch! In fact, it has lost weight!

Not only that, all the corn harvested from our seven corn plants last year didn’t produce enough corn to keep a baby duck alive for two days. We did manage to get some over-the-winter lettuce. I thought that was cool. Now the stuff has gone to seed. Did you know that lettuce will grow to a height of about three feet?! I had no idea.

Anyway, the tractor can’t trac since I haven’t bothered to put the new battery in it. It’s a perfectly good tractor too. She’s a dandy, that “Ranch Rino”.  The trailer can’t trail because it’s full of stuff from last year. That means that the garbage cans are overflowing with …stuff. You know what I mean; that would be the stuff that the local dogs and wild animals have sifted through looking for lunch. It shouldn’t take long to clean up the mess.

The pickup can’t pick since the driver’s side rear tire is flat. That means that I hope that the big air compressor can do its job and press a bit. The little trailer needs to have its fender straightened. Seem someone wasn’t paying attention and pulled it into one of the poles in the pole barn and whacked it (if you were to spit and I didn’t duck, you’d hit the guy that did it). Thankfully, the guy that overhauled the trailer last year said he could fix it and it’d be like new. I guess I’d better bless his heart too.

The good news is that theToyota Camry is still Cam’ing and the Ford Freestar van is still van’ing so all is not lost. They are two really reliable vehicles and we appreciate both of them a lot. The van is actually a dump truck in disguise. We haul just about everything known to man in it and what we aren’t hauling with it we are storing in it. It’s loaded up most of the time.

Imagine the fun we have when we actually have to haul folks to church in it! Can you spell “Chinese fire drill”? Connie and I look like an acre of male monkeys fighting for one female monkey holding a banana when we’re hustling about trying to get stuff stowed so we’ll have room for passengers.

Just exactly what do you mean by asking, “What’s with the front lawn looking like it was only mowed once and that was last year”? You have not been paying attention. I mowed my lawn once this year too! I do need to attend to it, I suppose, now that people are coming to the door asking for permission to hunt game out there. Reckon I could rent them my machete? It’s not that the garden tractor doesn’t work. It’s just that the tractor driver doesn’t.

We did hire a young man to take the weedeater for a walk. He knocked down the really high stuff and I’m about to teach him how to drive a lawn tractor. After that, we should have the Ranch looking like a million….uh….like a….uh….couple of bucks.    

Things are really moving along at church. We finished the membership classes and are going to issue the certificates of completion this week. After that, we can vote everyone in and give them the right hand of fellowship according to the “Treatise” and by-laws and such.

Someone left an abandoned septic tank in the church parking lot for us to deal with 42 years later. Cousin Rod Sanders pulled his big Ford Excursion into place only to see the right front tire sag a bit. When he checked it out, he found an 18” hole in the ground. The ground is stone hard there so that’s what kept it from becoming a real show stopper of an event. We tossed a ¾” chunk of plywood over it. Today, we had the tank evacuated. If you can believe it, there was more than 1,000 gallons of residual water and material still in it! Can you imagine that?! After we get a permit from the city to dig a hole and to put dirt back into the hole we’ll dig the tank out and haul it off.

They are requiring a permit because they “want to see that you do it correctly”! Say what?! They want to see if we dig a hole and put dirt back in …correctly? If that isn’t insanity gone to seed I don’t know what is! It’s actually theft from the public under the guise of utilizing the “tracking a septic tank that is no longer there” ordinance. Some day I hope to have enough money to fight City Hall.

Stay tuned for more of the wonderfully un-exciting missed-adventures of the two head honchos of Rancho Relaxo, Connie and Randy. Adios, muchachos y hermanos y hermanas, y companeros, y compadres, y mas y mas.

 

 

 

 

Spring Time at the Ranch

We are busy here at the ranch! We're in town, out of town, back in town, around town, and all over town. There's the computer biz, church biz, political biz, and even funerals to take care of! Then, there's the usual shopping and bill paying stints.

So, just how on earth does a busy computer dude get the time to sit down and hammer out a new blog posting? I suppose it’s easy. You just start downloading software on one computer and start a bug scan on another after making a coffee latte’. You just type really fast and squeeze it in. Works every time!

The weather has brightened up around here. We almost headed back to the house to get our shorts on while in Hooterville yesterday. I was hoping that the cool breezes might hang around a bit longer but it doesn’t appear that it will. It's already too warm for me.

 Hear ye! Hear ye! Hear ye! We have a new family member! More precisely, she’s a grandchild and she has come into this world weighing 6lbs 15oz and the tape measure says that she's 19” long. Her name is “Moira Anneliese Howden”. You may have to practice this one a bit. Connie is still trying to get it down. Me? Not so much.

 
She is a living doll!! Connie and I went down to Harbor City (Moira’s new mailing address) to visit with the family and to get to hold the little cutie. She’s definitely a Howden what with the tow head and all. Connie did most of the holding while I did most of the resting and taking a few pictures. Actually, I should say that I tried to rest. I looked up the Greek word for “grandkids” and it means, “forced exercise”. I used up a lot of engery playing with the kiddies but it was worth it.

It was a hoot getting to see them all again. There’s Thatcher (10 and the brains of the outfit), Liesel (8), the crew foreman, Cosette (5) the self-appointed family princess, and 2 year old Kuyper (rhymes with diaper. His life is still closely associated with them), who is the “scootch” of the family (he used to scoot across the floor on his bottom until he discovered that he had been born with feet).

He has been demoted to being the second place attention getter as well. Moira has just topped him. He really has his act down, though. It's amazing that a two year old can grasp the concept that, if he cuts loose with a blood-curdling scream or yell, he will ...absolutely will...get attention from someone. Perhaps he won't drag his "Terrible Two's" into the "Threes".

We spent two days with the 5 of them and had a wonderful visit. Did you know that it can be expensive being a grandparent? Did you know that "7-11’s" looooove grandparents? They have doormen who watch and wait for grandparents to pull up with a van-load of kids. They then show you all of their teeth while welcoming you in and sweeping the floor in front of you. They absolutely know that you will be happy to pay for whatever the kids pile on the counter after strip mining the place. And, after the haul, they know that they will all grab a "Slushie" on the way out. Oh, well. It’s a small price to pay for a great time.

I did come away from the visit with one of life's mysteries. Cosette had my undivided attention for about thirty minutes or so. She had a large plastic stern wheeler bathtube toy boat that had a hinged top on it so you could store other toys inside it. How is it that she could make more noise banging on that thing in just that short of time than all of the noise I made during all of last week....and I was using a weedeater?

“In the  jungle the mighty jungle……” Hoooo, boy!  The front yard at the Ranch looks like it could be hiding a few lions, tigers, and bears, and probably a dump truck. It’s hard to tell at this point. Seems someone forgot to hire a young and strong groundskeeper (I've about passed the baton on that stuff) and the place is overgrown with grass and weeds. UGH. The garden boxes need major help too. We had hoped to at least get them prepared by now but that didn’t happen.

We did, however, purchase a new batch of seeds and starts. We’ll have supplies for soups and stews this year. I may even shove a few spuds in the dirt for the cause. No garden would be complete without zucchini so we’ll have some this year too. It would seem that we’re off to a running start but, so far, it’s more waltzing than running. That happens when you run out of steam, you know.

Speaking of steam, since there is such a scarcity of it around Rancho Relaxo, Connie and I are going to be getting a couple of tricycles and then will glue a small traction motor on the front wheel. It appears that they can haul even a goodly sized gorilla like me around and they get great gas mileage (about 80mpg or so). The trikes have an advantage in that they have a nice basket on the back. Add another one on the front and you have a real SUV-cycle. There is a real possibility that we will have a couple of two-wheelers too. The trikes are 20” while the bikes are 26”. Big is good when you are as large as I am.

We haven’t taken the boat out yet. We have everything but the time and energy to wrestle it into and out of the water. The fish will just have to be patient and wait awhile. There are other ….ahem….fish to fry. That would presumably be the trout in the river up behind a friend’s house up on Balch Park Road. He just invited us up to catch a batch of them. We can do that. I can almost smell the trout grilling away as we speak.

The Ranch sports an entire closet-sized space full of rods and reels that need to go for a stroll. The tackle boxes are made of plastic but it seems to me that they are rusting. It’s definitely time to overhaul a few of them and get them up and running…or should I say, up and spinning.

There are just about every shape, size, and length of pole and combination rod and reel that you can imaging just waiting to catch fish. I prefer the ultralight rigs with 6 lb test line on them if I’m fishing for trout. For bass, I like a bit larger rig with at least 8lb test line. I can go all the way to 50 lb test if needs be and the reel on that rig is mounted on a “real” fishing pole!

Things are moving along well at the church. We have peace there and are a family. It has been while since I’ve been a pastor but it comes naturally so there are no worries about it. Our church is thriving and prospering and it is under continually prayer for its success. There's the monthly potluck coming up soon too. That's always a winner with the hungry amongst us. We have about 40 folks who attend with most attending regularly.

One lady, my aunt, has attended the church on and off since she was a teenager. Talk about “faithful”! As each week passes we are seeing church growth. It is easy to see us counting more than 100 souls as being in attendance by the end of the year.  

Well, that’s the latest from “El Rancho Relaxo”. There will be more updates when it is possible to do so.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

It's About Time

 

Well, things are moving right along at the ol’ ranch. We survived another doomsday (December 20^th). I think the problem was that people didn’t understand the Mayans at the time. Though a scientific people, they really just lacked common sense. The controversy and hysteria could have been avoided had they simply used a bigger rock. But, who’s to say?  

The terribly sad part is that there are so many other looming doomsdays well within our reach. The N. Koreans, lead by KIM SO ILL (son of Kim Jong Il, don’tcha know), are shooting off missiles and have even tossed a satellite into space (though not without depositing tons of space debris in orbit in the process…Geeeeee. Thanks, guys!).

Because they hate us, they are saber rattling as any good dictatorship would. It doesn’t help that their leader has exactly the same qualifications as ours (i.e. absolutely none other than being a professional oxygen thief) so I guess one or the other leader can effectively get us killed. Their leader is throwing money at his country’s military while ours is gutting ours so that he can take the money and spend it on health care for 15 million illegal aliens. Reckon we’ll need a lot of health care after the North Koreans, Russians, and/or Chinese lob a few nukes on our turf. Nothing like being medically prepared, I always say.

Connie and I are expecting some really tough times ahead. I’ve prayed that it not be for a few more years because there are a lot of things to accomplish and a lot of things to prepare for yet. We’ll see. At this point in history, and without some sort of miracle, it’s going to be impossible to avoid some sort of catastrophe and that’s just the man-made and engineered issues (i.e. the coming banking and financial collapse of America is not at all an accident).

IF we can squeeze it in, part of the Rancho planning is to get a couple of mopeds up and running and at least two more engines that will convert a bicycle to a moped. It may take me as long as two years get it all worked into the program.

In any case, we won’t starve unless the government (by Mr. Soetoro’s executive orders now in place) raids my small store of food and redistributes my “wealth”. That way I can be equally starving with my neighbors who didn’t have sense enough to prepare for hard times. Ain’t socialism grand?

I would like to have a bit of time to dial in our above ground garden boxes too. These things need to be up to max production this year. We did get some produce from the four boxes but we all but had to beg for it. We did exactly what a friend of ours did and even used the same composting but his crops flourished while ours didn’t. That needs to change. The best we can tell our eggplants were about ten bucks each, the tomatoes were all the way down to two dollars each, and the zucchini came in at around twelve dollars per copy. The only thing that didn’t cost an arm and a leg were the few potatoes that got planted on a whim. They grew but were rather small in size and number.

We have more good news to share about some of our latest blessings. As reported in the previous posting, I'm now the pastor of our church. The other pastor retired (rather ungracefully, I might add. More on that later) and is gone. In any event, I'm in the process of getting the place glued back together with a proper board of trustees and such. It will take some time to get through the transition period but everyone is upbeat and looking forward to the future.

The other pastor (unintentionally) left us with only a few thousand dollars in the bank. But, after only a few weeks, we now have a healthy bank account and a budget that’s been trimmed and tidied and ready to help move us forward with normal church functions and business. Our membership is increasing regularly and people actually want to come to church now because it's their home and they feel free to worship (which just didn't happen with the other man).

We had to take care of a situation where a woman was nominated as treasurer. But, come to find out, she really wasn't elected to the position due to the confusion generated by a particular board member who was pushing and shoving the process to his liking (prior to my being elected).  She is one of those types who is not there to serve the brethren and sisteren (sic) but rather is ready to rule with an iron tourniquet. The way it worked out was pretty cool. She pretty much hung herself with her long tongue so is no longer around to menace the church.

What is truly amazing is that this is a “Freewill Baptist” church. Who woulda thunk that ol’ Brother Ran would be a….a….Baptist preacher?! I figured I’d sooner be a Catholic nun! HAR! Actually….I know beyond any doubt at all that the Lord is leading and that I’m where I’m supposed to be. The two Rancho Relaxo ranch hands are truly thankful for this opportunity and are deeply humbled to be allowed to serve our church family with whom we have fellowshipped for about ten years. 

Another blessing happened a few days ago. A man called and asked if I took "old computers". I advised that I did, indeed (there’s an e-waste pile out near the driveway that is picked up from time to time). The next day he dropped off 1250 bucks worth of computer equipment including two desktop computers, a flat screen monitor, wireless mouse and keyboard, a nice large screen HP laptop, a thousand dollar server, and a bunch of peripherals and adjunct equipment, and such.

One of the computers is a big Dell XPS420 that is better and newer than my high performance Gateway!! Unreal! Just the other day I was giving thought about replacing my faithful old back up computer that I keep alongside my main work box. It's long in the tooth (about 8 years old) and still functional. But, it's running Windows XP and is getting tired. Lo and behold, I now have the replacement box in place and it’s running like a Swiss watch!! When I have the time, I’ll upgrade it to Win 7 from Vista. Later, when I have all that time left over from the Win 7 upgrade, I'll sell the server on Craig’s List and will likely get 500 to 750 bucks for it. I can live with that!

Also, on my days off (ah, yeah), I will now be the editor of our “Porterville Area Republican Association's” new newsletter, "For the People". No, I am absolutely not a Republican but neither are most of those in the association. These are mostly truly conservative "old Republicans" and not "neo-cons" (conning their way into our hearts) like most of our low-life lizard-hearted leaders who call themselves "Republicans" nowadays. Editing a newsletter shouldn't be a big deal since I've churned out a personal newsletter for ten years or so. There’s really not enough time to even keep up with my personal blogs and the soon- to-be-published church newsletter. But, I'll see if I can fit it in between putting the church bulletins together and hunting down the dreaded California pocket gophers that keep yard-napping my lawn!

In fact, we have a new Rancho “camper”. He’s one of the neighbor’s gophers. I recently managed to flush out and kill one gopher and his cousin moved in within a few days! *SIGH*. These things are truly a menace. They are not just fuzzy little critters trying to survive. They are varmints that need to be evicted by any means (and here I am fresh out of dynamite). I’ve tried gassing this latest interloper but he must have brought his mil-spec gas mask with him. Now, I’m in the process of trying to flush him out. But, he seems to be too wise for that and has, so far, managed to evade getting wet. He’s on a roll now piling dirt higher than ever. I think I’ll place a call to the “Central Valley Red Tailed Hawk Association” and see if they’ll send a few of their members over here. They can sit on the power lines and watch for the little furry bugger to stick his heads up so they can nab him for lunch.

This should really be an interesting year. Lot’s to do.  So, hang around the old watering hole and I’ll try to keep updates posted from time to time.

 

 

 

 

Ghana Part 5

Well…this is the last installment on Ghana. I seem to have run out of time to handle all of the matters at hand. For instance, last week I was elected to be the interim pastor of our church. I thank God for that, to be sure. But, it does mean a lot less time in the tractor seat, less time as “Farmer Ran” (my gophers are rejoicing… the neighbor’s gophers are rejoicing), and less time in the "Minnick Computer Service" bunker. Besides, I think I’ve about run out of information (though, more likely, I’ve forgotten several things).

As one may imagine, it was easy to sample a number of different foods in Ghana. And, though I'm not all that adventureous (probably has something to do with that large yellow stripe down my back), I did just that. But, there was a special culinary stand out. It was some sort of stew with a tomato base and that had wonderfully spicy meat (probably beef) in it that had a real kick to it. It was potent but wasn’t so hot as to scorch my tonsils. I asked for the recipe then promptly lost it! How nice. It wasn’t like the standard palm nut soup base like that used in making fu fu. For some reason the taste of that stuff got old very soon.

Pastor John Appia was ever the accommodating host. He made sure that Ol’ Ran was well taken care of. I’m glad I had only a few desires or wishes as I’m quite sure that he would have caused all things big or small to come to pass. One instance was when I mentioned if it were possible to deep fry the local yam since it was so much like a potato. In almost no time, I had a pile of deep fried yams that had been cut to look like French fries. Astonishingly, they not only looked like French fries, they tasted like them too! He also made sure that I didn’t run out of Chinese food. That was truly great since, after about three days or so, the local cuisine had lost its novelty. Had I needed a valet, John would have seen to it that one was close at hand.

During the normal course of affairs, John asked me if I would like to visit the Manhyia Museum in Kumasi. Since museums and I have a long time affinity for each other, I did answer “Yes!”. And, so it was. He took us there for the really cool tour. The tour guide was a real hoot. He truly was funny but few folks have such a dry wit or were so deadpan as he. He gave his opening spiel and then asked if anyone (it was just John and I) had any questions. John didn’t and I nodded and said, “No, sir”. He looked me right straight into my pretty brown eyes and said, “God bless you, sir”. Not wanting to make a complete fool of myself (reserving that for another time, no doubt), I did all that I could to keep from cracking up. It was difficult, though.

Our guide took his time and treated the two of us like we were the most important of any that would pass through the museum. He filled us with facts and figures and dates, timelines, and eras. It was amazing to learn so much of Ghana’s past. He even took the time to explain what the colors on the national flag represent. It was most interesting. Their cache of antique firearms was captivating, too.

In a previous part, we noted that the water was off all but two days while I was thre. To say that Ol' Ran missed his morning showers would be like saying Aurther Ashe missed his tennis shoes on game day. But, not much thought was given for the matter. It was not much different than camping out somewhere so “bucket bathing” wasn’t all that bad. However, wouldn’t you know that "Captain Spongebath" would outdo himself? Somehow, and without any help from a single person, I made it out of the digs….without my deodorant. Oh, brother. Now I was part of Kumasi's pollution problem. My first thought was that my only hope would be to try to find a burning truck tire and just stand close to it. Maybe just keeping close to an open sewer ditch would work. That didn’t happen either. I’m not sure if anyone else suffered given the fact that most folks (at least that I could tell) didn’t take very many showers or use pit stick. Anyway, I offended myself. Way to go, Pepe LePew. At least I didn’t have fu fu breath.

At other times, when the electricity was off, I couldn’t use my blow dryer. Now, that’s a “bummer dude” thing! Thankfully, I had Mr. Ball Cap close and was able to make due. It was either that or go “hairless in Kumasi”. Ummmmm….maybe not. I haven’t had a butch since I was about 7 years old.

During one of the few times I was able to use the Internet, I did get to contact Connie using SKYPE. Some of our contact was truncated because of slow connection speeds and sometimes I couldn’t contact her because of the 10 hour time difference. We managed to at least SKYPE a few times and then just use the phone a few times. That also meant that we did texting a lot. I guess I didn't get the memo about texting in a foreign country. The texts were 50 cents each. That doesn't sound too bad until you account for forwarding ten or twelve texts at a time sometimes several times per day. Do you suppose Ol' Ran was shocked when the texting bill was more than 400 dollars for the time spent in Africa? The word I like to use is "stunned". Next time do you think "Pastor Dummy" will read the fine print?

One Net session allowed me to use Google Maps to trace my travel route from the US to Ghana via the Netherlands. The route from Amsterdam covered France, Spain, Algiers, Burkina Faso, then Ghana. It was downright cool! An interesting note was that Google identified me as being in Ghana and brought up “Google Ghana” automatically! Amazing!

I missed having my morning coffee latte’s but knew that finding or making one was about as likely as finding an Outback Steak House next to Santa's place at the North Pole. So, the standard (morning) drink for this wayfaring stranger was Lipton’s Yellow Label tea (their original tea). It’s a good tea but I still prefer Luzzianne from the Midwest. Connie and I grab a couple of boxes of it when we travel to Texas and Oklahoma. Good stuff. We also try to pick up some "Cains" coffee too. I did break down and purchase a small tin of instant coffee and had that with the hot water served with breakfast one morning. Instant coffee just isn’t the same as the brewed stuff so I still have the small can. The worms may get it.   

Prior to departing the US I asked John if he drank coffee. He advised that he did, indeed, drink coffee. What he didn’t advise was that he didn’t drink coffee in Ghana. I brought him a pound of Starbuck’s coffee and assumed later that it would make a great shelf ornament and conversation piece for a few years. He may be able to trade it to the next missionary for some Lipton’s Yellow Label tea. Who knows?

On the last day in Kumasi, we departed the digs and headed southwest. I knew that I would miss the good folks there but also knew that I was getting weary of the African heat and such. Cousin Jimmy Sanders text’d and said that he thought that we would be heading to a place where they shot white folks and otherwise just cooked missionaries. I advised him that I heard that they were lousy shots even if they could afford the ammo and that I tasted too gamey to eat so I should be OK.

Leaving the digs was interesting. I had lots of stuff! Connie had packed three dump truck loads of goods crammed into one medium sized suit case! I had no idea how she was capable of that trick or how on earth I would get everything back in there! Somehow, I managed to get the job done but was afraid to open the suitcase later knowing that it would likely explode when I did. Not sure how I would break the news to Connie but I suppose that, "The suitcase has exploded, madam" would be the easiest and most direct way to do the job. She's pretty sweet; maybe she would smile and just help me gather the pieces.  

After about four and a half hours of driving, we made it to the small village where John was born and grew up. The best that I could tell, the place had hardly changed in almost 60 years. I shouldn't wonder. When he was born (1953), they were still issuing tribal cut marks on the left cheek. He said that they no longer practice that particular ritual. I don't know why I was surprised to hear that ritual marking of babies had ceased. It seemed to me that Africa was hardly out of the 19th century so why should their rituals change or stop?

I probably mentioned before that I wore the beautiful black and red shirt that John had custom made for me. It was part of the funeral attire for that occasion in the small village. His mother had died and the customary funerary is predominatly black. The symbols on the shirt mean “remember your roots”. I will see that I do just that.

Our accommodations were nice enough at the "Daasebre Lodge" there in the little village that was only a couple of hours from the coast. We unpacked and had lunch. They served us deep fried mackerel, spiced rice, and spiced black eyed peas. It was pretty good stuff probably due to the fact that none of it involved the palm nut soup base. Later, for dinner, we had deep fried ocean fish and deep fried yams. The next day, I was served spicy rice, a couple of fish the size of my hand (some kind of salt water fish), and a palm nut soup base with a fish and a chunk of “mystery meat” in it. I guessed that it was probably lamb or mutton and found that it was, indeed lamb. John said that it was prepared especially for me so that I could be “African”. It must have worked because I answered him in Akan.

The shower in my room was a small cubicle in the corner of the the room had no door and the walls of the cubicle didn't reach the ceiling. The shower bottom wasn't contained so that meant that water got on the floor. It didn’t take long to discover that the floor (being concrete) became a dangerous skating rink when wet. Giving the fact that I never actually learned to do anything well on an ice rink other than fall, I had to be quite mindful that I didn’t accidentally skid to Tulsa in the blink of an eye.

We departed the small, quaint, lively, dingy, sweltering hot, forgotten-by-Tarzan village and headed for a town on the coast near Cape Coast (the former capital of Ghana). I probably won’t miss the little village.

The ministry experience was also very satisfying. I taught on “peace” for a few nights in Kumasi and during the Sunday service at the church near Cape Coast. This teacher was well received which was a real blessing.

This trip had a tremendous and life-long impact on my soul. I saw, felt, smelled, and experienced things that simply were life changing. Most of it was difficult and even unpleasant and made even more so by a soul sapping heat. Will I go again? I went this time because I knew that I was called to go. If called again, I will go again. But, I hope to be more emotionally prepared to deal with a country where one third of the population lives on less than a few US dollars per day and the remainder are merely dirt poor. Most likely, the sense of awe and adventure will not be as prominent and I'll stay pretty close to a Chinese restaurant if possible.

An astounding fact was that there was never a hint of bigotry or racism any where I went in Ghana. This white boy was treated with great respect even in the depths of the slums of Kumasi. I truly did feel welcomed there. That also had an impact on me. It proved that it was possible to live without racial bias and to treat men equally. Though I was often the only Caucasion within a wide area and was a stand-out 6' 2" 235lb  minority figure, nothing presented itself that would cause me so much as take thought for the matter. It was remarkable.

One wonderful aspect of this trip was the confirmation that God loves His creation/His man and loves each and every one of them without respect of persons. Not one soul on this planet is less valuable than the other in His eyes. This marvelous revelation came when I worked at the homeless shelter in Longview, WA. Not one homeless or needy person was “off the radar” with God. We serve an awesome God.

A Rancho Relaxo update is forthcoming. It’s a new year with some old challenges mixed with new ones. We’ll see how Rancho Ran and Canning Connie (who just put up the latest jars of chicken and spinach) meet them head on.

Ghana Part 4

At left is a view of the front yard of the digs. The hedge was trimmed with a machete then a young man with a whisk broom spent most of the day stooped over and cleaning up the trimmings. All sweeping inside our out was done this way!

To the right is the "Central Market" in Kumasi. The city has about 2 million people in it and most of them were there

 





 
This sign probably needs no explanation but I can 't help wonder how large an issue this was before someone had to post a sign!





At right is the bed at the Desaabre Lodge. Spartan but adequate












The small sticker at the bottom of this electricity meter says, "Pay and Smile". Guess we're not the only ones who gripe about our utility bills

To the right is a shot taken from the front porch of the digs. They seem to take security rather seriously in Ghana. The entire country looked like a huge compound






This is definately a real Chinese restaurant with a real Chinese owner. But, make no mistake, you can still get "Fu Fu" and other local dishes. This place soon became my friend

To the right is a "roundal" with a herd of taxis zipping around it. All taxis have bright orange quarter panels and almost all of them are "Opels". At least ten percent of the vehicles on the road are taxis and even more at certain times of the day


                                                                                    

The Sahara Desert is a mind boggling wilderness. It seemed as though our flight over this place would never end. It is obvious that at some time in the past it was filled with rivers. Perhaps the "gold of Ophir" mentioned in the Bible was mined here

There are a lot of different things to see and observe in Ghana. One is that there are no paper towels to be found. I don’t think I even saw any in the markets. There certainly weren’t any in any of the restaurants. They did come around with a hot towel with which you could clean your hands. Likewise, I did find a sink in the dining area and it had a hand towel available.

There is a snack there that I’ve never seen any place else. It is a small plastic soda bottle filled with a mix of peanuts and cooked but un-popped popcorn. It was rather uninspiring but worth the effort and minimal expense (about a buck as I recall).

We in the US are not used to valets and such but Kumasi seems to have a lot of them. These guys are “Johnny on the sport” to help direct your parking efforts and to open your door for you. They even help you back up when you leave. They may get a small wage but my guess is that they work for tips. So, it is customary to have a handful of change with you wherever you go.

Because of the poverty there, most individuals drive small cars and many have motorcycles. One such cycle is a cool utility three-wheeler with a pickup bed on it. It appeared to have about a 200cc-250cc engine and was made in China (JinHao brand). I observed one such three-wheeler that was toting three large cow heads. Another was hauling a load of coconuts and another had 5 guys piled on it. These are Handy gadgets, to be sure.  I would love to have one of these little haulers.

Lining virtually every major street were what I called “shanty shops”. They could be made of wood but many were made of metal. The metal ones tended to be either 4’x 4’ or 8’ x 8’ while many wooden ones were smaller yet. The metal ones also had a single large metal door that was closed and locked at night. Venders sold everything from soup to nuts. I suppose that the owners of the small wooden spots simply tote their pots and pans and wares off for the night.

Can you imagine being in a large city (a city with 2 million people seems large to me) with cattle grazing in the median with two lanes of traffic whizzing by on either side? It was a tad difficult for me, too. But, here was a herd of ten cattle lazily noshing away at the scrub grass that was doing its best to survive. I can’t say that I blamed them because there was very little other grass in the area on which to graze. They don’t exactly have “Farmer’s Feed and Supply” stores there. In other places, goats were seen wandering about thither and yon seemingly unattended and un-owned while others were in attended herds.

Hawkers were everywhere. There were hundreds of them. Most were in the medians or alongside the street at every intersection that had a traffic signal or stop sign. There was little that you couldn’t purchase whether a bag of water (yep…a 12 oz bag), popcorn, bread/rolls, coconuts, casaba, newspapers, or a cell phone charger. I didn’t see any bowling balls for sale. They descended in droves upon the stopped vehicles. I felt guilty for not buying something but later was comfortable just simply smiling and shaking my head, “No, thank you”.

The huge number of taxi’s was almost mind boggling until you stopped to think that most people there don’t own a car. Some don’t even own a bicycle so taxi’s are their primary transport. My guess is that more than ten percent of the cars on the road were taxi’s.

The preferred car for a taxi is the Opel.  That was surprising to me but apparently they are roomier (not sure how that can be because there are almost no large vehicles there). There are two versions of the Opel taxi: the “short put” and the “long put” with the “long put” being more like a station wagon. All taxi’s have orange quarter panels. I don’t recall seeing a radio of any kind on any of them. Many are LNG powered.

Because of the lack of consistent refrigeration, many juices come in cartons similar to what I’ve seen used for chicken and beef broth. They are very practical containers but the lids are difficult to open. Being part gorilla with a great deal of upper body strength (prehensile tail not required), I felt that I was up to the challenge of opening my juice box without the assistance of even the most modest of modern tools. I tugged …and… tugged… until the lid ….suddenly…..and violently…gave way. The purple geyser that ensued was a real photo op. Most unfortunately, my entourage of professional photographers missed their plane and weren’t on hand to catch this epic event. Once again I will not make the pages of “National Geographic Magazine”. *SIGH*.

Well, being baptized in grape juice isn’t all that big of a deal, I suppose. However, there are no paper towels with which to clean up the mess. I had to be creative and sacrifice a sock to get the ocean of purple off the floor.

The presence of Muslims is prominent. Approximately 15%-16% of the population in Kumasi is Muslim which is to say, they are everywhere. It seemed to me that most were goat herders. An interesting fact is that almost none of them are from Ghana. They are from just about every place but there. Yes, they are being “imported” as part of the “jihad” to conquer the planet. They are literally “going into all of the world” for Allah. It is working quite well.

Mosques there are sponsored by a particular sect or group of Muslims from other nations. Most are fairly nice and seem to be comparatively prosperous while others are situated in a rundown neighborhood and are rather squalid. In one spot there was a huge beautiful new mosque parked in a really rundown neighborhood.

The best that I can tell, the folks in Ghana have no idea what a box springs and mattress are. They have a mattress, to be sure. But, it is mounted on the floor or close to the floor. I slept in four different beds in three different cities and all were the same. The bed that I am used to is high enough to accommodate several guitar and fiddle cases under it (it’s on risers). Dragging my old airframe up off the floor was inconvenient but was not a punishment.

Did you know you can get “bush meat” in Kumasi? You probably can’t imagine just why anyone would want to eat bush meat in Kumasi but it is available. I may have mentioned it prior, but you can order yourself a heapin’ helpin’ of a large jungle rodent called an akrante. I do like to try new things but never found myself hungry enough to experiment that much with my diet. I’m betting that it probably tastes like chicken or the squirrels I shot alongside a creek bank in Kansas in 1960.

It was a bit unusual to notice that there were no water heaters there. It really does make sense when you stop to think about it. Who would waste good Cedi’s (the national currency) on raising the temperature of water when you are always trying to find ways to cool off? A “cool day” Ghana is around 85 degrees! If anyone needs water for the dishes, they just heat a bucket of water on the stove. The water out of the tap is usually about the same as a swimming pool so you can cool down some. That is, of course, to say that you can do so if water is actually available. It was available once per week while I was there. That quickly explained all of the 5 gallon buckets full of water that were stored in the huge shower area of the digs. Amazing.  

No one drinks coffee in Kumasi and probably elsewhere in Ghana. They all drink tea. Most drink Lipton “Yellow Label” tea. I drank it in Kumasi and I drank it in Accra. I later found out that “Yellow Label” was the original Lipton tea. In the US we drink the orange pekoe blend. However, I did find that the “Yellow Label” tea is available online. I like both and brought a box of “Yellow Label” back with me. I truly did miss my espresso maker, though.

In a Kumasi market (which reminded me of the “Minkler Cash Store” on Hwy 180 east of Fresno, CA what with the wooden floor and such) I did run across some bags of tortilla chips. That was a bit of a surprise but not as much of one as when I was in Accra and getting ready to return to the US. I found tortillas, taco mix, and salsa! Who woulda thunk?

Pepsi Cola is somewhat of a rarity in Kumasi. Either Pepsi isn’t popular in Ghana or the Coke distributor shot and killed the Pepsi distributor (that actually happened in Thailand about ten years ago so….who knows). I did find a few cans at one particular market but Diet Pepsi was definitely not available at any time or anywhere (in fact, I don’t recall seeing any diet drinks there!). Bummer, dude. Coke, on the other hand, was in abundant supply. I am not a Coke drinker but was forced to slake my thirst with Coca Cola or water. Given the fact that water will rust your pipes, I drank a couple of Cokes and was quite surprised to find that they were made with real sugar. In other words, they tasted like they did when I was in high school (not many years prior to the trade embargo with Cuba where the US used to get most of its sugar).

Some foods there are still pounded into submission. The cooked casaba root is smashed into a dough ball with a long pole in a large wooden vessel. It takes about ten minutes per dough ball. I’ve seen them do it in TV documentaries but never in person. The dough ball is broken into servings, cooked in a soup base, then meat is tossed in which then makes it “fu fu”. The meat can be chicken, lamb, mutton, akrante, beef, fish (usually Talapia but smoked catfish is available), or what all.

 

Speaking of food, it was difficult to comprehend not seeing fast food restaurants at all. I did see a McDonald’s in Accra but that was the only one. Again, that’s probably due to the lack of disposable income there. Perhaps they should offer their version of the local fare and call it “McFuFu”.

They have their version of pizza there, too. However, it is a highly modified version of what we eat here. They don’t seem to use tomato sauce on their pizzas. That’s probably because the nearest tomato is several thousand miles away. Anyway, their almost-a-pizzas are not inspiring so I re-named them “edible frizbees”.

Radio newscasts are something else to listen to. They sound like a screaming and yelling match, an out of control political debate, or a preaching contest but brother John assured me that they were just relating the news. How weird.

The crows there are black and are about the same size as in the US but have a large white cape around their neck. How interesting. I saw mourning doves there too but they are somewhat smaller. They appeared to be about 75% as large as the ones in the US and resembled the “Diamond Dove” though not quite as small.

These are few observations. I’ll probably go back to a narrative next time. Stay tuned.