RANCHO SPRINGY DINGY

 

Here's one of our harbingers of spring. This little female bird has camped out in our front yard and has been digging out Connie's planter boxes on the front porch. She's not a happy camper and has put netting over them to keep this noisy and obnoxious intruder out of them. It's a "Stellar Jay" and not one that I know likes them. 

Click on the pictures to enlarge them.

Here's more evidence of spring. Car shows/events are showing up all over the place. This line of cars greeted us when we were in Springville the other day. Model "A" and Model "T's" were lined up clear through town and others were still showing up. It was a rather big event so it must have been one of the collector's associations or such. 

Here's something that you don't see every day. It's a large can of "Cain's" coffee. This has been one of my favorite coffees since 1981. I drank it while in Tulsa, OK and then picked up a couple of cans when on vacation. The problem is that you can't get it any longer. It's only available at a few restaurants in Oklahoma and it's no longer in stores. I hate to crack it open but, if I don't, it'll get stale and undrinkable. Such is life. 

There are about 40 pods of "Peet's" and "Starbucks" coffee here ("Starbucks" owns "Peets"). The entire bunch of pods cost us 25 cents at the new "Falling Prices" store in Porterville. This is the small overflow box. The larger box has hundreds of these pods in it and cost less than 10 dollars. 

To the right is the newly poured cement base for the antenna tower for my ham radio station. It's planted at the back of the barn (north side). The station has been a work in creeping progress for a number of years. I'll park an 11 element 2M VHF beam on top and will also string a 300' wire inverted "V" antenna from the top. The long wire will allow for operation all the way down to the 160 meter band in addition to the others. The tower is to the right and will need to be erected when the base cures for a few weeks. 

I don't recall where or when I got this big beautiful Logitech MX5000 keyboard. But, when I wore out the previous keyboard, I found this one lurking in the barn. I looked it up online and the mouse and keyboard retail for 150 clams. I vaguely recall paying 5 bucks for it at a yard sale. 

Well! Shut the front door!! It’s May! We’re a third of the way through the year! Doesn’t that just make you want to hock your outhouse? Anyway, neighbors, it’s time to share the vernal adventures at Rancho Relaxo. I should have listened to J. R. Ewing.

Fun Fact: “Vernal" is from the Latin vernalis which means “of spring” . You can also use “primavera” which means “first spring.”

Stepping on up: We live in a two story home and my office/shop is on the upper floor. That may seem like a negative but it’s really plus. For instance, for 15 years I’ve had to walk, slog, jog, and sprint up these 15 steps. That means a lot of muscular and cardio activity has been executed. This is one of the reasons that explain why I was able to ace the “stress test” when I had a heart attack in ’14. In fact, the best that I can tell, I’m one of only a few folks that have gone the full (grueling) 9 minute treadmill test without breaking the 150 heartbeats per minute limit (I’ve not heard of another).

That’s also why my cardiologist was wowed when he saw my chart. He stated that, had he not seen all of my medical records, he would never have guessed that I had even had an attack! I was pleased with that report because my FAA flight medical was reinstated within three of weeks of getting his “all clear” (the previous FAA communication took three months).

Guess what? Here at Rancho Relaxo we’ve found that these stairs are even more utile than you may suspect. You see, Connie the Canner also uses the stairs. “So what?”, one may say. Well, let me tell you, cousin.  She’s about 5’ 6” which is a bit below my 6’2” highness. “So what?”, one may query again. It’s like this; on some odd occasions, she’s coming down the stairs and we meet at the bottom. Can you imagine the compensation a 7” rise stairs makes when two humans meet and they are now nose-to-nose? Yep. It’s “Rancho smootcho time” for the old folks! In fact, we have an official name for Connie the Canner at times like these; she’s my….step-wife. Works for us.

Them’s the Brakes or How trashy can you be?: This is springtime so we’re in high gear and are speeding along as much as our bodies, minds and the ever-present “farm issues” will allow.

During one of our frequent trips to town, we had gotten about 5 miles from home when we tried to pull out of the way of the cars behind us (bless our considerate hearts). That was interesting because the brake pedal went to the floor! We were at a fairly level place on the highway which was highly improbable. We were on Highway 190 which has very few level places seeing that that it traverses the foothills and the mountains. This is also to say that the hand brake wasn’t required. Thankfully, we were able to safely limp back (rather slowly, I should say).Once home, we called “AAA” for a tow to a shop in Hooterville.

As a side note, you can bet we were mighty thankful for having the “Premium” subscription because it has unlimited towing. Anyway, we had the Coop DeVille hauled to “Big Brands” tires.

We found out later that the left front brake line separated! So, this was a shock as well as a mystery.

The repair took a few days because they had to get the brake line out of Bakersfield (or, “Buckersfield”, if you are so inclined). We picked up the car in a week and were quite happy to be back in business.

Ah, but this is Rancho Relaxo and you just know that things can get interesting around here.

For instance, two days after getting the van back home, it was time to make a “dump run” because our trash bins were full. Wooly Pulley was hooked up and we started out of the driveway. However, we only got to the main highway when the brake pedal went to the floor again! I backed up and unhooked and blocked the trailer and called “AAA” again for a tow to the same shop in Hooterville. Scratch one dump run!

It took more than a week to get the van back because they had to order another brake line from out of the area. The end of the matter is that the repaired the issue and we got our wheels back. 

During the wait time, our trash remained in the trailer for another week until a friend hauled it off. Without those 10 large barrels, trash started backing up pretty quickly. Swell. The little Camry, Toyo, doesn’t have a hitch (yet) so we needed to wait almost a week to resolve that trash problem.

What wasn’t a mystery was what would have happened had we been further down the road and had to brake but found ourselves freewheeling with a trailer trying to catch up to us. I don’t like to imagine such things but I’m quite sure that the result would have amused the bored masses. That was plumb crazy! The car had just been repaired!

This hilarious episode set our back our plans to haul stuff to and from the hangar, too. We needed to get stuff staged for the big yard sale in May on the 13th-14th. Some of these goods need to get down the road because we’re backed up to the gunnels with unused “stuff” that’s been around far too long.

Tractors, maintenance, and more: To make matters even more interesting, the lawn tractor has had issues. It lost air in one of the tires so I used “Fix-a-Flat” on it. So far, it still has a slow leak but I have an air compressor and a portable air tank.

It also has a weird habit of losing the power-take-off clutch when it warms up. As long as the PTO clutch is engaged, the mower runs fine. However, if you disengage it, it won’t re-engage until the motor mower cools down. That takes a while so you just go do something else until you can use it again. That’s rather inconvenient.

The grass in the front yard had grown to jungle proportions but was finally whacked when I got the tractor going (thankfully, no lions were found linger about). Its battery and starter was recently replaced so this season’s work should get done (if the lazy tractor driver can get to it, that is).

The Honda “FourTrax” ATV (which hauls dirt and other things all over the ranch) also had problems. Those issues had to be dealt with so I can get into “spring mode” and get some work done. It needed the carburetor replaced, the oil changed, and a tune up. It then openly declared that its battery was dead. Swell. So, now it has a new battery and all should be well. She starts immediately when the “Go” button is pushed or when you kick start it. Amazingly, it’s hard to tell the motor isn’t new. It doesn’t even smoke! I can deal with that. 

The other tractor, the 1951-52 Ford 8N, has a blown head gasket and is undergoing repairs as we speak. That isn’t a biggy but the drag scraper does come in handy from time to time.

Re-tired Camry: The Camry recently had tire issues, too. Seems we didn’t drive it enough and the tires got weather worn and fell apart. We had two flats within a couple of days of each other. We didn’t need any more tire grief so it’s now sporting a new set of 190/60R 14 “Kelly Springfield” shoes.

The little car is 24 years old yet only has a bit over 200k miles on it. It’s a mechanically sound as any car with half the mileage. We do keep our cars in tip top shape because we greatly depend on them.

More motor maintenance: Spring prep will include the Schwinn “Meridian” motorized trike. It was running well prior to the start of winter but I forgot to suck the gas out. So, there may be an issue with getting it started at first. The carb just needs blown out (as does the 3.5KW portable generator we keep at the ready: and the “Troy Bilt” 5hp pressure washer). The little 1.5 hp Honda has been trouble-free and holding up well so far (given that it probably has less than 7 miles on it). It shouldn’t take much to get back in service.

It’s a sweet ride that we call the “Ranch Rocket”. This is in spite of the fact that we are spared anything close to face-ripping speeds. If I recall correctly, the top speed on this little hauler is 22 mph. That should be quite sufficient a speed with which to carry our milk (and my larger pink fundament) to and from the grocery store 3.5 miles away.  It’s quite the “ute” since it has a basket on the back and one on the handle bars. Handy gadgets, I’d say.

The problem is that it is geared so high that it can’t negotiate the steep entrance from Highway 190 to the “Eagle Feather Trading Post” (2.6 miles from here). So, the rider (that would be the Ol’ Rancher) has to push the thing up the hill (the gearing is too high for it to be peddled upslope by a human). We’ll see. Perhaps someone will help me mount a wench on the front (preferably a light-weight one with brown hair).

I still need to build Connie’s Meridian trike. It’s been patiently waiting for quite a while. Just can’t seem to get to it.

 Wired-Not wired or The Unexpected Magic Show: Missy, the well-fed-but-bored pooch, just ate my wiring harness on the trailer for grins. At first, I thought she ate the whole thing but I found it a few days later. Perhaps she hid it so that she could retrieve it, play with it, and then show me what a great job she had done of it. It was fixed by replacing it with a new harness and connector (10 clams added to the list of “unanticipated expenses to date”).

Three days later, when the van was back in the shop, a friend offered to tow the trailer to the dump. Except that, the new wiring harness and connecter were…gone (swell x a whole bunch)! Since the trailer had been parked in front instead of in the back (where Missy could have such great fun with it), we really have a mystery on our hands. The thing simply disappeared. We’re still looking!

Well….that ended up necessitating a complete rebuilding of the wiring of the entire trailer. That took more time out of the Rancho schedule. Swell. Thankfully, my friend (quite professionally) glued it back together. Friends are our friends.

Bye, bye, Birdie: We lost our Barred Rock the other day (when lots of things happen around here). She developed some sort of tumor on her bottom but we didn’t know anything about it until the day prior to her demise. She just suddenly became lethargic and plopped down in the grass. I examined her and noticed that the tumor was far advanced and that some of her skin was already necrotic. I ruled out an “egg bound” issue.

We still have Rooby Doobie (nee “Speck”) and Feral Fawcett, though. Rooby is faithfully laying about an egg-and-a-half in a day-and-a-half. Miss Fawcett has gotten broody and is under one of our many tarps keeping unfertilized eggs warm (remembering that Missy ended Roo’s career as the head DNA propagator). I really love that little feathery bird because she's so tame. It's just that she's not that bright. The tarps will soon need to be cleared so she’ll likely be discovered and her broodiness will be discouraged.

Chicken Tenders: We already have plans to repopulate the ranch with more birds even if we have to start with chicks. Not a pleasant thought but “You gotta do whatcha gotta do”, eh? Eggs are our friends and we are in need of as many friends as we can get. The Ol’ Rancher and his side kook, Connie the Canner may soon be tending an entirely new flock of birds. Don’t touch that dial; we’ll have updates.

“Falling Prices” and Dropping Jaws: We were recently introduced to a new store in town. It’s been awhile since I gave two rips and a single ding-a-dang about such things. But, it looks like some folks think Porterville is large enough to actually start a business in (though I can’t imagine who). I suppose that 67,000 or so people would have a few bucks between them to keep at least one store afloat for a while.

The business is, “Falling Prices”. It may just as well be, “Falling in love with prices” because that’s exactly what the Ol’ Rancher and Connie the Canner have done. Low prices attract old yard sale’ers like us like “The Beatles” attracted screams. After all, we’re the ones who squeeze a nickel until the Indian rides the buffalo.

When you get inside, you see about 15 or so 6 foot square boxes elevated about 3’ off the floor. Contained in each box is a plethora of mixed items including cell phone protectors, wireless mice, toys, tools, hard backed books, and even expensive coffees. It’s wild!

Image what it does to your lil’ ol’ heart to purchase a 14.00 bag of Pete’s Coffee for…hold on to your old gray bonnet...one dollar! ONE BUCK! How about getting three wireless mice for five dollars and three 15.00 HDMI cables for 75 cents! It was a true jackpot! We likely won’t need coffee around here for a year or more (noting that most of the coffee was in sealed pods and metalized bags so that they stay fresher longer). All this brown treasure is sure to put some miles on our new “KitchenAid Pro Line” burr coffee grinder.

Connie the Canner got hundreds of canning jar lids for less than three bucks!  She almost did an Irish jig in the middle of the store (and doesn’t even know how to dance!)! She was in giggle mode when buying expensive vitamins and food supplements for a buck-a-throw! Zowie!

So, it’s no wonder we are so taken with this new store. It even cured us of dumpster diving!

Pardon my Garden: Last year’s garden was a bust. It was the first year that we’ve not had an abundant harvest. In fact, the ‘harvest” was so scarce that Connie the Canner could only can a few quarts of green beans and nothing else. That was pitiful because we planted an entire garden box of them. During an average harvest, she should have been able to can 30 quarts or more. This was despite the fact that the Ol’ Rancher toiled diligently for seven months. It was discovered (thanks to the Internet) that there was a fungus among us and it wrecked our soil.

The boxes are all in desperate need of repair so, instead of trying to rebuild and replant this year (which would keep us from the rest of the major work needed to be done around here), we’re going to forgo the matter for now. Unless the price of lumber requires us to hock the house, the idea is to just start all over with new boxes and fresh material/soil.

 Lowe’s has slotted concrete corner blocks that allow you to build the size of garden box you desire. Ours are 3’ high so that the old people can forgo any stoop labor. The remainder of the year will be dedicated to this major project. “Go, team!”.

Tripping or On the Road Again: Other than a too-quick trip to Boise to Seattle to home (when we picked up the new van), we haven’t been away from home for any reason in about five years. So, we’re going on a three week vacation. It’ll be great to see friends and family (our friends are pretty much our family, too). It’ll be even greater to just get out of Dodge.

The plan is to depart after church on Sunday, May 22 and return on the 13^th or 14^th of June. If things work as planned, Abilene, TX will be the first stop. Eldest son, Jeff and his family are there. We're up against a pretty hard clock so we'll see. 

We have a new granddaughter-in-law that we have yet to meet so that will be super! Her name is Hannah. She and grandson, Randall, were recently wed at a really cool place in Thurber, TX called the “Greystone Castle Sporting Club” (you should see the pictures!). Their fam will be headed to CA to see other fam right after we see them but they won’t be there when we return home. Bummer.

Next, will be just east of San Antonio in Kingsbury where Connie’s brother, Roger, and his lady, Charlotte, abide. Charlotte is also a pilot so she fits right in with the rest of us “wing nuts” (she’s a great cook, too!). Together, they run the “Old Kingsbury Aerodrome” in Kingsbury, TX. Their activities also include building and maintaining the “Pioneer Flight Museum” there.

Roger is a commercial pilot and world-class A&P mechanic. His works can be seen at the “Museum of Flight” in Seattle (a WW1 Nieuport 28) and at the Hong Kong airport (a 1910 Farman biplane replica). Check’em out at their website (https://pioneerflightmuseum.org) and on “YouTube”(https://www.youtube.com/results?search_query=Old+kingsbury+aerodrome).

After Kingsbury, we’ll be on our way to Magnolia (about 200 miles and north of Houston) to see Connie’s elder daughter and her family. We have seven grandkiddies there who are now loving Texas. We haven’t seen them since they moved there three years ago from Harbor City/Torrance, CA.

Time permitting, we’ll get to see long-time friend and brother and sister, Red and Patty Polston in Tulsa. It’s been ten year or so since we’ve seen them. They are evangelists. I’ve had the privilege to minister in Idaho, California, and Canada with Red. Part of his ministry is the “5 West Outpost”, a Christian music ministry in Sand Springs.

Last but not least, we will be in Vienna, IL. That’s located where Missouri, Kentucky, and Illinois converge. I’ve been near there before but being in Kentucky will be a first for us. We’ll spend the night in Paducah which is only 30 miles south of Vienna. That leave only S.C., VA, and Georgia as the only southern states that I haven’t been to yet.                                                                                                                                                            

We’ll be having lunch in Sikeston, MO. The place is called “Lambert’s”. It the “home of the throwed rolls” (https://throwedrolls.com/our-menu/). There are three of them: Foley, AL, Osark, MO, and Sikeston, MO. I’ve been to all three of them but have only eaten at two of them.

If you ever have the chance, you need to stop in. You’ll  get a kick out of this place, I guarantee it! They have huge home-style meals and serve the side dishes from buckets. Then, a waiter/waitress will toss the bread rolls at you from as far away as they feel comfortable with, It’s a hoot! The chicken fried steak is huge. I’m a pro when it comes to chicken fried steak but I couldn’t eat the “Rooster size” meal. Next time, I’ll probably order the “Hen  size” instead (if I don’t get the fried catfish or hog jowl plate).

Well....there you have it: another short episode of the long happenings at Rancho Relaxo: home of Rancho Ran, the world's foremost authority (the previous one died): home of the Yo-Yo Twins, home of a retarded duck, home of Connie the Canner (world's greatest side-kook): where the air smells, where alliteration reigns supreme, where being modern is optional, 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...we just never know. 

RANCHO SPRINGO GREENO BLOOMO

 

It's a bit difficult to see, but the new cut for the spillway at "Success Lake" is at the right-center of the picture. The new road is at the middle of the cut. Click on the picture for an enlargement which may help somewhat. 

This is the marina and a good shot of our short-lived greenery. It only lasts for a few weeks then it's gonzo. We get "California Gold" in its place. 

"Lemon tree very pretty and the lemon flower is sweet. But the fruit of the poor lemon is impossible to eat". Y'know...I'm not sure that Trini Lopez has that right. Maybe he ran out of pure cane Cuban sugar or some such. Maybe he just put the lime in the coconut and drank it right down. Don't know. He's dead now so we can't ask him. 

Anyway, we like lemons here so this is a picture of one of the two new ones that we planted. 

We try to make sure that we have our staples on hand in case of hard times. That includes have a functioning staple gun around when we're in the mood to secure things. This is actually gun number two but, for 7 dollars (at a yard sale), it was just too good to pass up. It has no signs of usage and, when hooked up at home and tested, it worked great. Yes...I have plenty of staples, too. 

Well, it’s April. This year is already ripping by so fast that it almost makes me want to watch “Flash Gordon” reruns on “You Tube”. The speed at which the months are flying by is almost incomprehensible. It's only 264 days until Christmas. But, the show must go on. On the whole, I’d rather be crapping fishing.

They say that “April showers brings May flowers” but, for a while, we've only been getting what we call a “mad rain”. It’s really only enough rain to make you mad because it doesn’t even wash off the “Springville Insulation”. It just makes a mess of your car.

Finally, we did get a nice “soaker” rain but it was nothing like the “frog stranglers” in the Midwest. Our orange trees were mighty happy and the neighbors were dancin’ in the streets (at least, that’s what I heard). It did appear that they were so happy that they were making burnt offerings to the gods. It may have only been their BBQ’s going off in celebration at the same time. In any case, we all think that our weatherman is a few cousins short of a family reunion. 

Connie Canner Report: The rancho’s remarkable numero uno fantastico canner, cooker, cleaner, baker, sewer, and chicken grandma is doing well and back to canning everything that doesn’t leap out of the way. This is also to say that her wrist has healed up very well. There’s still a bit of limiting of the range of motion but she’s still improving on that, too.

I lost count of the number of jars she’s put up so far but it’s remarkable, to say the least. She even canned some walnuts, turkey meat (to make room in the freezer for other goods that can't be canned), different stews, flour (dry canning), and such. She’s amazing! 

She's also "Connie the Baker", too and can whip up some of the best cakes (e.g. carrot cake), zucchini bread, cookies, pies, fresh hot loaves of bread, and other goodies that you can imagine! She’s my sweet Hostess Cupcake (I think I’m probably her Hostess Ding Dong).

Busy Bees or Honey, I’m home: Professional beekeeper and dear brother, Dave Kruse, recently checked our two hives. He advised that we a lot of honey that needs to be harvested. It appears that we’ll have more than 40lbs of that liquid gold stuff! And, it’s “orange honey” which comes from our oranges as well as from the other groves around us. Orange honey is our friend!

But, honey harvesting entails a ton of work. We have the bee suits, smokers, centrifugal honey separator, strainers, and such but it is a lot of work. After harvesting, it has to be stored in glass jars. It takes time and a lot of effort but it’s worth it. Honey will store forever. 
We're in the the middle of a big bloom this spring so we'll soon see. 

Missy the Melting Dog: It looks like a sled dog can grow on someone. That someone would be me, of course. Even with her puppy-inspired behavior and frailties (like casually chewing my reading glasses to bits), it’s just not possible to not fall in love with this gorgeous and intelligent pooch.

She just needed to be loved and have someone pay at bit of attention to her. She was lonely and needed a playmate, too. So, between Abbie being the playmate and the ol’ dog lover being the attention giver, Missy is settling down and learning to fit in. She’s still a bit rough around the edges but, in time, she’ll be fine. At least she will sit when commanded and not bowl me over when I try to feed her. 

The other day (when lots of things happen around here), I was spending some time with her and letting her know that she’s part of the family. It was a beautiful cloudless spring day and the bright sun was providing a little extra warmth.

Missy was reveling in all of the attention and getting lots of lovin’ from her owner who was sitting on a five gallon love-dispenser bucket. This high-spirited lassie had calmed way down and was nestled between my legs while being showered with care. It was so intoxicating that she just melted and slid down into pile of fur on the ground. Her eyes were closed and it looked like she was overdosing on love. She was as gonzo as if she had just had a big hit of heroine. 

Walkin’ the Dog (Rufus Thomas - Walking The Dog - 1964) : A couple of days ago, it was time to take Missy for a walk around the rancho. She needs to be trained to be "leash broke" so that she doesn't haul the Ol' Rancher face down around the back forty (you can't imagine how strong this pup is!). And, she needs to be familiarized with the approximate parameters of the electric fence she'll soon be facing. 

So, her 15' (or so) link chain was loosed from the dog mansion and configured on my hand (so I could hang on) and wrist (in case my hand came off) to keep her from running off if she tried to bolt away. She loved it and wanted to continue the trip to nowhere in particular! 

I must say that I was a tad surprised that she caught on so quickly. It wasn't necessary to restrain her all of the time. She was allowed to snoop and sniff just about anywhere she pleased. Abbie accompanied us most of the way. We three enjoyed the walk. 

At the start of the walk, we moseyed past "Cabrito", the law tractor which was covered with a tarp. Of course, it needed to be investigated by Abbie the coon hunter and Missy, who's  bred for pulling sleds and not chasing game and critters. Nevertheless, it didn't take long for the lights to come on. Both doggies erupted in barking frenzy and began to circle the tractor. The game was definitely afoot. I was getting set for a grand show when both dogs circled to the front of the tractor. At that exact moment, a little cottontail wabbit exited the rear of the tarp and rapidly bounced his way to safety. 

All I could do was to try to speak in simple enough English for the dogs to look the other way and see their prey laughing at them as it wandered off. "Git'im! Git'im! There he goes! Git'im!" Abbie, the great black and white hunter, and Missy, the sled dog, refused to abandon the track their nose had encountered. To them, the wabbit was still under the tarp. *SIGH*. 

After a while, it became apparent that the game had been called off due to the opposing team having left the field. So, the tour around the place was resumed. 

The Bunny Hop or Wabbit Wabbit. Who's got the the Wabbit?: As we headed away from the tractor and up the driveway and toward the back end of the property, Abbie abandoned her escort responsibilities and bailed toward the neighbor's big back yard to the west of us. It wasn't long until I could see her bobbing up and down through the high grass at high speed chasing a....wabbit. Yep. It was the same cottontail that had escaped a few minutes earlier. They were quickly out of sight. So, after a good laugh, no thought was given to the matter because there a lot of places for a small rabbit to ditch a dog out there. Missy and the Mister ignored Abbie and walked for awhile longer then headed back to the doghouse. 

The next day, Abbie didn't bother with her breakfast. She just turned her nose up at it. She's a real "breakfast dog" so, when she didn't eat, I knew something was up. But, my little girl dog is so well fed that there was no reason to be concerned so that was that. She'd eat when she was hungry. 

About noon the next day, you can't imagine what showed up next to the patio gate; it was the carcass of a half-eaten rabbit. You can't say that I was surprised because Abbie is a huntin' dog, after all. It sho' nuff explained why she had skipped breakfast and dinner the day before. 

Chickening report: Well….the Ol’ Chicken Dude can’t seem to find the time to trap his dirty birdies and hide them in the coop for a couple of weeks. It’s not like it would take all that much time. It’s  only a matter of setting up a cardboard box, a 24” stick of some kind, and a 10’ length of string/twine and that’s about it. You just toss some chicken feed under the box and wait for the stupid chickens to get under the box: pull the string and the box drops down and you have a baffled bird in a box.

The idea is to retrain them to stay in the coop again. They got into the habit of avoiding the coop because of Missy being so into free chicken dinners. The plan is to have her muzzled and on the electric fence (basically a shock collar that limits her range). When she is trained to ignore the chickens like Abbie was, then all will be well at here at rancho pollo. Both dogs can wander about and the chickens can range in safety.

The good news is that our three layers are doing just that. As of late, they  found a great place to lay their delicious cackle berries. It's the smallish plastic wheelbarrow on our back porch. It's partly filled with flower pot excelsior because Connie the Planter was overhauling her flower boxes and planters and stored it there. The hens dig it. Even our new bird, Feral Fawcett, has joined the egg wagon. It keeps us from having an Easter egg hunt every few days, too. 

Speaking of eggs, we now have a few dozen eggs that were preserved through "water glassing". Using that method, eggs will keep up to a year or so. It's really simple and easy and not at all expensive. E-mail us if you would like to know more about it: ranchorelaxoeggs@gmail.com.

Tired!: We've been driving the Camry as of late for a couple of reasons. One is that it gets decent gas mileage (which is greatly needed now that gas prices are outrageous and getting higher yet). The other is that the Coop DeVille has the trailer hooked up to it so that we can haul trash to the dump and also so we can haul stuff to the hangar where we can sort and price it for the yard sale next month. 

The trusty little car has given us no issues in years so it was very interesting when we pulled into church last Sunday and the right front tire was flat. Thankfully, we had a spare. There was no hurry to get a replacement since the spare was in excellent condition. 

Ah, but this is Rancho Relaxo and you just never know what's going to happen, eh? A few days later, while in town, we pulled into the church to drop off some stuff. Lo and behold, another tire was flat! Come to find out, because we hadn't driven the Camry all that much, the tires were weather worn and were separating. 

Not wanting to experience a third flat, it was off to a local tire place where we had them mount a nice new set of 195x70Rx14 "Kelly Springfield" tires. All is smooth and well again. No more flats (and that's flat out good news)! 

It's about thyme: We love to have spares and backups around here. That includes spices. A quick check of our pantry would show that we could probably accommodate all but a 5-star restaurant. Heck; we even have enough chili powder and cumin to start our own Mexican restaurant. 

But, when Connie the Canner was trying to can some beef stew, we ran out of thyme! We then checked all of our spice supplies a couple of times and just couldn't find any! Trust us; that won't happen again! 

Getting to the hub of the matter: When, in the course of human events, you are bound to run across certain issues pertaining to your wheelbarrow; what are you to do? You fix the thing. So it was with our nice and necessary wheelbarrow when one of its tires decided to go flat. Well.....actually.....it had some help going flat. 

Last October, we tossed a couple of sacks of concrete into  "Clyde", the wheelbarrow (as in Clyde Barrow), in anticipation of resetting our steel wagon wheels on one side of our driveway. Some miscreant hooked a rope to them and dragged them down the street so it was incumbent upon us to solidly re-establish them. 

However, despite the fact that the wheelbarrow was covered with a tarp, it somehow got wet when it rained. The bloody thing was flooded. UGH. That meant that there were more than 120 pounds of solid concrete in it. That much concrete presented too much stress on one of the pneumatic tires so it went flat and destroyed the tube. Great. 

The tires were already about 8 years old so not much thought was given to the matter. In fact, it didn't matter so much that we are just now getting it fixed (I mean, just what are you going to do with a 120 pound solid chunk of concrete, anyway?). 

The next trip into town saw us bringing home a nice shiny new tire, tube, and wheel with which to remedy the tire tragedy and remove the eyesore.  But, this is Rancho Relaxo and you just know that things got....interesting.... rather quickly. 

After pulling the cotter pin, the old wheel was slipped off and the new one was popped on. Uh.....the axel was magically too short so the cotter pin couldn't be replaced. Great. The opposing wheel and axel was gently tapped so that they were snug against the cotter pin in hope that it would slide just enough to allow the other cotter pin to be inserted. Still "no go".

 So, after a bit of pondering and eyeballing the matter, the bearings on the wheel hub were (gently) knocked out (they're just "press fit"). After that, the hub was circumscribed at 5/16" and a hacksaw was employed. In a few minutes, the saw job was completed, the cut was de-burred, and the bearings were re-fit. The wheel was slipped on and the cotter pin was inserted without further ado.  It was exactly the right fit without any slack in the axel. 

Well....there you have it: another short episode of the long happenings at Rancho Relaxo: home of Rancho Ran, the world's foremost authority (the previous one died): home of the Yo-Yo Twins, home of a retarded duck, home of Connie the Canner (world's greatest side-kook): where the air smells, where alliteration reigns supreme, where being modern is optional, 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.  

 

  

 

 

 

 

 

RANCHO MARZO VERDE

 

Here's some yellow roses for y'all. Why? Because we like you (for all you Mouseketeers out there)!

    (Click on the pics to enlarge them)

Remember from a few months ago the little tiny ball of fluff that flitted about the barnyard at barely sub-mach speeds? This is "Speck" who is now a full-fledged hen. She contributes to the daily supply of huevos around here. I've started calling her "Ruby Dooby" since she's a Rhode Island Red. 

This is a nice shot of Missy on her chain. There's enough room for her to be able to romp with Abby (and romp they do). If we keep her, I'll have to use a muzzle for the times that I take her off the chain and while using the shock collar to keep her near the house. If she gets the message that chickens are not to be used for dietary purposes, then we'll can take muzzle off. 

T

This shot is for all of you "ex-Ports" out there (ex-Porter-villains).  It's the “Sequoia Dawn” apartment complex in Springville. It’s getting a complete overhaul and makeover. They even took out all of the trees and shrubbery. That’s a real “Thank God!” deal since it truly was an eyesore from the git-go. More pics when they finish the job.

This is actually the truth. We're gong to be getting another dozen chicks or pullets. We prefer pullets but will have to pay a bit more for them. Raising chicks isn't quite the fun thing that some folks may think. The chore of rearing them isn't mitigated despite the fact that they are sooooo cute. (especially after you've done it a few times). 

Well….it’s March! Doesn’t that just make you want to go to a shad bake? Time is zipping by so quickly and so many crazy things are happening in the world that it’s almost like waking up in a different decade or on a different planet! OK….no more bellyaching. Let’s get to the blog. When do the Jedi get here?

Rancho Thought for the Day: Getting old means that, despite having many years of practice in dressing yourself, your wife may have to advise that your T-shirt will look better if the pocket is on the front (that and your neighbors will be unable to confirm their suspicions about you). Hint: never dress in the dark or away from a mirror (*SIGH*).

Rancho Musings: From time to time, the Ol’ Rancher dude finds himself mentally hearing the ancient sounds and smelling the ancient smells of decades past. And, there are lots of stimuli that conjure up those smells and sounds. 

For instance, a lot of guys love “guy things” like big noisy car engines, medium noisy car engines, small noisy engines, big and small noisy aircraft engines, noisy tractor engines, noisy gas engines, and noisy diesel engines. Some dig the smell of diesel smoke in the morning. In every case, that would be me.

Yep; the Ol’ Rancher’s lil’ ol’ heart still pumps red, white, and blue hydrocarbons. That roughly translates as the different colors of aviation fuel. Red colored av gas is 80/87 octane while blue av gas is  100/130. (though, today, it's the 100 octane Low Lead gas). And, for the record, purple av gas is 115/145 octane (which is fighter, bomber, and race plane territory). 

Fun fact: there also used to be “white gas” which was used in camping stoves and such. It was your basic simple gasoline which did not have all the climate compensating additives that comprise auto gas. Until the late ‘60’s, my folks had a small camp stove that used it. I doubt if it’s available to the public now. 

Here’s a list of the stuff that’s in our fuel:

Benzene; Toluene; Ethanol; Butylated hydroxytoluene/BHT (yes; It’s the same stuff that we use as a preservative in foods); 1,2-Dibromoethane (anti-knock compound that replaces tetraethyl lead); Isopropyl alcohol (yes; the same disinfectant you buy at Wal-Mart. It helps remove water from the gas); Nitromethane (yes; the same stuff the drag racers and R/C modelers use); Ferrocene (another anti-knock component); Di-isopropyl ether; Ethylenediamine (didn't I see that as an ingredient in shampoo?! Just kidding).

So, there really is red, white, and blue gas. If you’re ever on “Jeopardy”, this information will help you win a really nice prize.

Plus, to help your memory, there’s always the local car club where some guy has an old car that really floats your barge. You boys know this guy; he’s driving the slick old cruiser with big rumbling iron under its hood that makes your ticker flicker and which you wish you owned.

Anyway, while surfing the Net, a couple of gorgeous old cars smacked me in the face and it stirred up my rememberator (sic) which  kicked into high gear and called up days of old. It brought about great days of roasting rubber (a unique smell, to be sure) in my beautiful red 2 door ’67 Ford Fairlane GT sporting a four-speed shifter and beautiful white bucket seats. My mind had no trouble getting up to speed as I mentally recalled shifting from third to fourth gear at 105 mph; I could once again feel and hear that big 335 hp 390 CID engine sucking air through a carburetor that was squalling like a banshee. The speedo hit 130 mph and was still headed north when my foot lost its intrepidity and backed off the pedal. That was the first and last time that trick was pulled. The mental goose bumps were ironed flat by the reality that not everyone who takes such a risk makes it back home alive.

Some years later, while in the police and paramedical profession, I saw numerous young men who weren’t so lucky. It was heartbreaking.

Back to the present: that was way back when I had lots of get-up-and-go and enjoyed being adventurous and daring. But, now that I’m getting older, I have to eat a nice big lunch so I’ll have enough energy and daring to sneak up on a nap.

The FORD Ranch: Just about every day, there is something that needs to be fixed, replaced, or otherwise repaired around here. One day, it’s a hose (yesterday). On another day, it’s the lawn tractor. And, on the next day, it’s a  toilet (we have three of them), a leak, or a computer. It’s  non-stop fixing around here. Maybe I should just change the name of this place  to “FORD Ranch” (“Fix Or Repair Daily”, for the younger folks). 

And, I'm fixin' to clean up the back yard which looks like Patton's 3rd Armored Division camped out for a few months. The tarps and covers have about been worn and blown off and that'll have to be fixed. It'll have to be done prior the big yard sale in May. 

  “Oh, the pain!” (stolen from Dr. Smith on "Lost in Space") or “Pass me the Ibuprophen please”: Since it’s the beginning of March, the need to switch to “spring mode” was sure to pounce on us. It did. The “bloom” has started which means that certain chores can no longer be delayed (or ignored which is what El Flojo is inclined to do). The problem is that my “spring muscles” have yet to blossom so things got interesting.

The rancho riding mower, "Cabrito", was fueled and set loose on the jungle out front. After the yard looked somewhat normal, the weed-eater (aka Chewy) had to be taken for a stroll. I always look forward to that because I can't wait to see what new body part will be abused or injured from flying debris. The front part of the rancho is still a pretty big place so it took quite a while to whack the jungle into submission.

Then, the budding plum trees needed to be pruned or we'll be trying to pick prunes eight to ten feet in the sky. The good news is that the tools required to do the job right and not over tax the workforce are on hand. On tap are four different loppers that do a great job of pruning. The favored one with the longest handles was employed. That fun gig was good for about another hour of joy.

You can imagine what the Ol’ Rancher’s body was screaming at him after the last of the pruning was done! It was something along the lines of, “You keep whacking and I’m going to whack you, Pal! You’ve got 3 minutes to quit this rodeo and grab the Ibuprophen or else!”. There wasn’t a problem complying with the ultimatum (given that I’m not doing any of this for therapy). It’ll probably take some time to rebuild the relationship with my angry body parts. 

“Let there be…phone!” Or, “Don't call  me up!”: Back in the ‘50’s, most folks used the phone only when it was necessary and, even then, only if calls were within their budget. Long distance calls were rare for the common folks (you were billed by the minute). Lengthy calls (by and large) were for the wealthy.

They were a really nice tool to have around for times like when your bike had a flat. Ah, but not just any flat; how about a flat at the farthest place you’ve ever ridden it in your young life (that would be to Success Lake from A Street in Porterville) and needed a ride home?

I called but didn’t get help because my folks weren’t home. My great-grandmother then advised that I should “hoof it”. “Hoof it?!” Given the numerous miles involved, that thought wasn’t immediately logical to me. Later, it dawned on me that my great-grandmother was born when there weren’t any cars in the entire country and even bicycles were a rarity. You rode a horse or you “hoofed it”. Plus, she had probably worn out a hundred pairs of shoes by the time I took possession of my bike so it was quite logical to her to advise me to hit the bricks. 

OK; I was out of horses so “hoof it” I did.... all 6 miles back home.

The other day (when lots of things happen around here), AT&T decided to switch from their 3G service to the newer 4G provision. Our home phone and our backup flip phone no longer worked. Oh, swell. That’s not a game changer but it really is a proverbial pain in the glutes. We had to order a new flip phone (free, which is our dear friend) that was 4G compliant when we next went to Hooterville. But, this is  Rancho Relaxo where you just never know what’s going to happen.

Our “land line” is actually a 3G wireless phone. Pay attention because this is really screwy. AT&T sent us a new wireless radio/modem to replace the 3G rig that we had. In the real world, all you should have to do is take the bloody thing out of the box, plug it in, hook your phone to it, then activate it online. A piece of pie, eh? Ha!

After numerous times trying to activate the new box (Ol' Ran isn't exactly a novice at electronics and computers), AT&T tech support was called in to assist. Another slice of pie, eh? Ha! Ha! After 2.5 hours of dealing with clueless agents (it took more than one to not know what was happening), it was decided to send me another box because mine was defective. Great. I get to be without a phone for a few more days. Would you like to guess what happened next? Sure you would!

What happened was that the new box and sim chip didn’t work either. Swell + great = grrrrrrrrrr. It only took another 2.0 hours of dealing with two other clueless agents to find out that things were definitely inconclusive (do people major in "clueless"? There sure are a lot of them around). Add another "great" to the pile. So, they sent me yet another box and sim chip.

We’d been without a phone for close to two weeks when the newest new box showed up. The next step was to go online to activate the phone per the destructions. Once again, it was a “No go!”. Great. Just great. 

AT&T tech support was called yet again. This time, I was able to connect with someone who had a full complement of gray matter and a full understanding of the entire operation. In only a few more minutes, the phone was activated and sucked into the new 4G system. Great!

God only knows what will happen when the 5G service hits town. 

Breaking the tie that binds or Unchained Malady: I have to admit that, as partial as I am to Abbie, my princess pooch doggy dog, Missy, is the most amazing and intelligent dog I’ve ever encountered. She’s also as sweet as a bucket of bonbons which somewhat mitigates her being an obstreperous handful (which I guess comes with being a pup). Truly, though, my little sled dog had me at “woof!”

However (why is there always a “however”?), in addition to having an appetite for free chicken dinners, she is an amazing escape artist! After a number of inexplicable escapes from a cable and two ropes, she was finally placed on a “link chain” (something you would see holding up your porch swing and which has a 300+ pound pull limit). “No sweat. That should do the trick”, said I. Ah, but this is Rancho Relaxo and you just never know what’s going to happen next.

Let’s do a quick backstory: The other day (when lots of things happen around here), my neighbor (once again) texted me to advise that Missy had gotten off her new chain. What had happened was that she had slipped the new camo harness that I got for her. Thankfully, she didn’t run off into the vast unknown but stayed close.

After hooking her up again, it was quickly noticed that she had destroyed the nylon harness. That was a complete mystery because, although there were very minor signs of her having chewed on the harness (how she reached it is beyond me), the main connecting strap was (get this) broken (not chewed loose) from both ends. What?! Only a 500 pound gorilla that bench presses Honda Gold Wings for grins could pull that off! She has a heavy duty leather collar so the chain was hooked to that.

So, we have yet another mystery. If this continues, I’m leasing her to David Copperfield so she can teach him a few things. I could use a few extra bucks. Anyway, so far, so good.

Then, I happened to catch her performing yet another circus act. She derives great joy in removing her mats, blankets, and rugs from her dog house and then scattering them (or destroying them depending upon her mood) all over the place. 

Well, to keep them somewhat rounded up, they were tossed on top of the roof of the large pooch hooch. Despite the rooftop being about 5.5 feet high, Missy ever so nimbly made the smoothest and most effortless leap I've seen in awhile and snatched  one of the rugs off the top. A true Olympian, she is! For now, she sleeps on the floor boards of the doghouse. Abbie always slept on the blankets and rugs. "SIGH".

Well....there you have it: another short episode of the long happenings at Rancho Relaxo: home of Rancho Ran, the world's foremost authority (the previous one died): home of the Yo-Yo Twins, home of a retarded duck, home of Connie the Canner (world's greatest side-kook): where the air smells, where alliteration reigns supreme, where being modern is optional, 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.    

 

 

RANCHO POLLOS Y PERROS

                   

To the right is one of the "deals of the day" that recently blessed our home. It's a "Kitchenaid Pro-Series" burr coffee grinder. These things retail for 179.95 + tax. Thanks to a local estate sale, it cost us 25.00. I hate using my little "Hamilton Beach" spinning blade coffee grinder because you can only grind (whack, actually) a couple of tablespoons of coffee beans at a time. It takes forever to grind all of your beans. Not so with this big baby. 

This is "deal of the day" number two. It's a "Cuisinart" programmable coffee maker. They retail for 99.95 plus tax. But, it was acquired at the same estate sale as was the coffee grinder and we paid...get this...five dollars for it! You can't even tell that it's been used! 

To the right we see our sled dog, Missy. I have to tell you, she is a sweetheart. But, she is also a high-spirited and completely bored doggie. That isn't a good thing. Below, we see what a high-spirited bored doggie does in her spare time (which she has a lot of). It's a brand new doggie watering pan that lasted about 30 minutes. As it is, her other doggie watering pan is one that has been repurposed from being used as a chicken watering pan. It will remain in service. She hasn't been able to 

destroy it but she has been able to frequently

empty it. 

This picture is proof that you can feed two old yard sale'ers and bargain hunters lunch for less than ten bucks. With the senior discount (discounts are our friends), the tab is about 7 dollars and change. That's with an "up size" of the drink to a large one. Not bad at all. 

To the right we see Princess Schlaufenhund not forgetting to warm up in the sun for awhile prior to taking care of the business of being a good guard dog. 

A beautiful day in Springville, California, US of A. 

When the opportunity to try some bison jerky came this way, you can guess who said, "YES!" right away. There is a reason why there were so many healthy Pawnee, Shawnee, Blackfoot, Dakota, Lakota, Sioux, Kiowa, and Topeka (and many more, to be sure).  I had a bison steak at the "Cold Springs Tavern" in the Santa Ynez Valley near Lake Cachuma (near Santa Barbara) many years ago. It's good stuff.

Well…It’s February. Doesn’t that just make you want to hock your bandwagon? Instead of bellyaching about how fast the leaves of the calendar are shredding off (you know: like as fast as a 747 that just experienced catastrophic bi-lateral wing spar failure at 45,000’), grab your notebooks; I’m going to be talking about  electron beam welding and vacuum annealing of titanium (just kidding).

Now, some of you may be ruing the fact that I don’t share more about it because it’s actually very interesting stuff. Come to think about it, it’s likely that only a few of you would be interested. So, we can then probably divide that number by my shoe size which means that only one person will have to suffer the loss of this great technical knowledge and not many. Great idea, Ran.

Anyway….I’ve decided not to learn Klingon as a second language.

Rancho musings: As I age, I’m finding that there is no longer an ample supply of “Under Dog Super Energy Pills”. That’s really sad to do that to old people, don’tcha think? Most likely, they outsourced them to an enemy country so they’re no longer manufactured here. The enemy is now hogging the entire supply; can’t blame them for that, I guess. Who would want an enemy that’s stronger than they are?!

It’s not like I have a monstrously huge need for them. I mean, I gave up trying to save the world all by myself some time ago (though Superman is still my favorite super hero). But, a real boost would come in handy now and again. There are always things that need to be toted, lifted, lugged, moved, raised, racked, packed, and stacked around here. And, when Abbie tree’s a coon at midnight, it would be nice to just shinny up and retrieve it from the top of the tree. That’s so that I wouldn’t have to wake the neighbors with a large caliber alarm clock.

This is also to say that not all shortages are on the shelves of markets. There’s an energy shortage here at the rancho. It takes time and energy to service the lawn tractor and get it ready to mow the front jungle. It takes time and energy to service the Echo weedeater then lug it around and whack the jungle in the back yard and garden area. It takes time and energy to rebuild the garden boxes that have seen better days and which are now falling apart. It takes time and energy to haul stuff to the dump (those trash barrels haven’t lost any weight since the previous dump run).

So, this ol’ rancher sorely misses those days when there was an ample supply of “Super Energy Pills” provided by my ol’ pal, Underdog (he can’t get’em, either!). “SIGH”

Eggs-istential crisis - Speaking of shortages, we have a chicken shortage crisis. Our little flock of layers and one rooster has further dwindled to a critical level. We never thought we would ever see an egg shortage around this place but, alas, there is one. We’ve gone from selling four dozen eggs per day to having very few eggs at all (at least eggs that we can find).

It isn’t a “head scratcher” at all: no mystery here. Missy, the plunder dog who eats chicken without begging for a side of fries, has a nasty habit of sandbagging our birds until they are within reach (she’s on a 15’  rope). Then, like lightening, she snatches them and energetically enjoys the fruit of her machination.

So far, she’s halved our layers and Ol’ Roo, the beloved one-legged rooster. We’re down to three layers and they have evaded a swift death by simply camping in the trees instead of risking going in the direction of the coop (which is near Missy’s doghouse but outside of her reach). That also means that they are laying their eggs somewhere (anywhere) else. The old people who run this egg factory don’t have enough energy to conduct a daily Easter egg hunt (did I mention the energy shortage around here?). So, the three dirty birdies will be captured and locked in the coop for a couple of weeks. That’ll reset their “homing beacon” so that they’ll return to the coop at night instead of the wild (which has its own hazards).

No mas Missy – having said all of this, as much as I love this beautiful and intelligent pooch, we don’t actually need her. The main reason we brought her home was so that Abbie would have a pal to wrestle with and not be lonely.

And, it is going to take some time and…energy…to train her to be a “chicken dog” that protects our birds instead of a “chicken chomper” who dines on our pets.  So, “Craig’s List” has a new listing.

The decision to let Missy go to a new home wasn’t taken lightly and it wasn’t without regard to other factors. “What factors are those, Ran?”. I’m glad you asked. It’s factors like the recent experience with trying to keep her warm. “Aunt Joyce”, our dear friend and neighbor who loves our doggies, gave Missy a beautiful new winter jacket so that she would be comfortable this winter. She wore the jacket exactly one day. By feeding time the next morning, she had destroyed the jacket’s zipper rendering it unusable. How did she do that?! No one knows but it’s certainly in alignment with the other mysteries surrounding this dog who is an escape artist extraordinaire.

Then, there is the new watering pan. The bright shiny new 18” plastic pan was filled with water and left on the ground near Missy’s big doghouse (which began life as “Maggie’s Mansion” many years ago). The pan didn’t last 30 minutes. She shattered and scattered it all over the place. The thing only cost a couple of bucks but if you have to buy ten new pans per month, it could be an issue.

Radio Snacks: And, we can’t forget the fact that she loves to eat radios for snacks. I kid thee negative! The other day (when lots of things happen around here), the Ol’ Rancher parked his old airframe on a bucket so he could take the time for some “doggie love” with Missy. She loves to be loved, of course, so she soaked up all the attention. What wasn’t noticed was that the little Baofeng BF-888 “Rancho Radio” slipped off my belt when the session was over with (when I get enough box tops saved up, I’m sending off for a new Batman Utility Belt. I need one around here).

In about a half hour or so and when I needed to call Connie the Canner, it was noticed that the radio wasn’t hanging on my hip; it wasn’t difficult to remember where it had last been seen. I did find it but can you imagine the look on the Ol’ Rancher’s mug when he discovered that his nice new radio had been dismembered, covered in mud, and scattered all over the back yard?! Many thoughts raced through my mind as I stood there (thank you, Marty Robbins). One thought was to blame the dog but I just couldn’t. You can’t blame a high-spirited and bored-to-death pooch when she destroys whatever is within reach.

There is a positive outcome on this particular disappointment, though. One is that these little radios are cheap so it’s no great loss when one of them bites the dust (and several have done just that). That’s why Ol’ Radio Ran buys them by the box. This means that there were plenty of replacement parts and pieces from other radios that have croaked or which have been whacked (lots of croaking and whacking going on around here for some strange reason). Cannibalism is our friend!

The little transceiver was cleaned, the cracked battery case was replaced with another one (though the old battery itself was salvage and stored for later), the mangled antenna was replaced, the lost (or swallowed) volume knob was replaced, and the mangled belt clip was replaced. In no time at all, the radio was back in action.

Can you dig it?: Added to these things is the digging. She’s a great excavator, too (if you happen to need an excavator, which we don’t). There are five “ankle breaker” holes in the ground that will need to be filled at the earliest inconvenience (read: whenever the super energy pills arrive from backorder).

It became clear that we are in over our heads with this deal so we’re going to fix it. Perhaps we can find a more compatible companion for Abbie (who loves being boss over the much larger Husky).

I tried having a conversation with Missy and used words like “Doggie for sale” and “Firing squad”. But, as smart as she is, I don’t think she got the message. My sled dog has to go but she will be missed…sort of. The ad on “Craig’s List” has only been up for a week so we’ll see.

Thou shalt not baptize thy iPhone (but particularly not in unholy water)! – Well, reckon that when you indulge in modern conveniences, you will, by default, indulge in the hazards that accompany them. These are the hazards that lurk in darkness and then pounce upon you when you aren’t paying attention and when you are least expecting them. They exact a stiff price for your laxness and your daring to feel that flawless you is without the ability to royally screw up. Senescence is not our friend.

Not long ago (but longer than the other day), I was lounging in my “work clothes”. That would be my genuine cheap Wal-Mart bed pants and a T-shirt (don’t laugh. At least they aren’t Eeyore jammies…yet). Until it’s time to go outside and face the cruelties of ranch life, the Ol’ Rancher resides in his comfort zone while working on computers and such.

When it’s time for ranch work, he is found in full battle rattle. This includes (but isn’t limited to) a box cutter, maybe a machete, a Crescent wrench, and rubber wader boots. This is definitely not my “Mr. Clean Jeans” attire. This is the down-and-dirty nitty-gritty work garb called for at Rancho Relaxo and the Ol’ Rancher isn’t usually allowed too far into the house without making some revisions.

 Now, bed pants are loose and baggy for a reason. They are not built for speed and are not in any wise sown for safely carrying an iPhone. Are you seeing where this conversation is going? No doubt you can.

While in the process of tidying up after my morning constitutional, I heard an unsettling “splosh” noise. Lo and behold, my handy-dandy hi-tech iPhone had just leaped from my pants pocket and had baptized itself without my permission. And, it was rather unholy water at that. Egad: just what I needed.

The wayward gadget was retrieved and dried off with a slightly moist towel (not rinsed off) then a dry one was used. Long story longer….water seeped into its guts and the little contraption became an expensive paper weight.

In a couple of days it became apparent that no old person (who had already used one) could live in modern times without a smart phone. So, a 150 dollar replacement (Amazon refurb) was soon on its way to the newly awakened and mighty careful old dude so that he could reattach himself to the network of life. Lesson learned.

Goin’ to Town or Visalia, here we come: From time, we find that we are required to head out to Visalia for one reason or another. One time it may be to pay taxes at the courthouse or to show up for jury duty (that’s really fun to be stuck in a room all day awaiting your turn to be selected or not). It’s a less-than-an-hour trip over exceedingly familiar roads. One could even say that it’s a rather boring ride. Sometimes we take the route through Tulare just to break the monotony and to maybe knock over “Popeye’s” for a chicken sandwich.

One good thing about Visalia is that it the nearest real town to Hooterville (which, as you’ve heard the ol’ dude grumble, is not at all a real town). So, to help mitigate the harsh reality of leaving our comfort zone and having to deal with Sacramento-like traffic and foolish, inane, incompetent, and inconsiderate drivers (who are thoughtlessly and intensely set on killing anyone who dares to try to drive on “their road”), we focus on the positive parts of the event.

As mentioned in a previous posting, there’s a really great fried chicken restaurant over there called “Raising Cane’s”. That means that part of our mood’s amelioration was in knowing that we were on our way to Visalia to commit some grand and glorious gluttony there.

In fact, on this most recent trip, that was the first place we went when we hit town. Connie ordered the sandwich and I ordered the four piece lunch. Talk about good stuff! We intend to be regulars there. I wouldn’t even mind if they gave me the Indian name, “Dances with Fried Chickens”.

Well....there you have it: another short episode of the long happenings at Rancho Relaxo: home of Rancho Ran, the world's foremost authority (the previous one died): home of the Yo-Yo Twins, home of a retarded duck, home of Connie the Canner (world's greatest side-kook): where the air smells, where alliteration reigns supreme, where being modern is optional, 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.