EL RANCHO RELAXO IPSO FACTO

“Rancho Relaxo Ipso Facto”….sort of has a ring to it, don’tcha think? I guess it’s because “the facts speak for themselves” here at the ol’ ranch.

Like…the fact that we had to get up these previous two mornings at …yaaaawn…5:30. I gapped so much that, if I hadn’t have been stop-drilled at my ears, the top of my head would have fallen off. But, it was necessary because there was a lot of prep work to be done so the house can be painted and so that the back patio can be covered.

Talk about a cranio-muscular disassociation! My body threatened me with extinction if I crawled out of the nap sack. It told me that it was going to feed me to the alligators and take an hour to draw a crowd first. Of course, I knew it was lying since we don’t have any alligators here in this area at all. I may have believed it if it tried to scare me with being fed to the California pocket gophers or such. Those things are mean! There was a huge battle between my brain and my body but, finally, the brain won out. I’m still not sure how that happened. Because we weren’t going fishing, I was rootin’ for my body to win.

The painter will be here at the first part of next week to pressure wash the place then he’ll throw some paint at it. As part of the prep, Connie and I had to park some stuff in the barn that we had stored on the west side of the house in the shade and in reach of the lizards.

Then, we had to make a “dump run” which we do about every 6 weeks or so that our nice neighbors don’t think we are garbage collectors. The great news is that the dump is only about 1.5 miles up the hill from us. By the time we loaded the pickup and tied it down, folks were sure that they were staring at some of the Beverly Hillbillies clan.

Then, we had to move other stuff (some of if junque) to either in the barn or into the dumpsters. After some heavy breathing and sweating (I’m confident that there are better places to do both), we were able to see the entire 15.7’ X 38.6’ patio for the first time in who knows how long.

When finished, the covered-but-open patio will sport three ceiling fans and a new BBQ grill. The new grill has been stored for about three months in the 8’ X 12’ trailer out front. Every time I get in my van, I can hear the thing clawing at the door trying to get out. We have some dead steer meat and some live friends so we’re going to try to get them all together before too awfully long and break this big four-burner in. We are entertaining options of enclosing the patio at a later date due to all of the "global warming" making things so much colder here.

The tradesmen showed up at about 6AM armed with nail guns and saws and knowing how to use them. It was “Katy, nail the door” after that. All day we heard sawing, hammering, whacking, sneezing, and other loud noises. They banged so hard against my office wall that the power supply to my Ethernet hub was dislodged from the socket! It knocked me off the Net until I figured out what had happened. I sure hope there’s no extra charge for that!  

Here at the ranch there’s another fact happening: we are under siege from gophers and ground squirrels. So, Ol’ Farmer Ran (“Farm, farm, farm. Farm, farmer Ran”…nice song by the Beach Boys. Maybe you’ve heard it) has his hands full with trying to suppress the opposition. To deal with the matter, we have the “OFR Varmint Eradication Task Force” consisting of a squadron of one guy, a hose, and a rifle.  

Now, before you laugh your Huggies off, consider that Ol’ Ran is quite experienced with both hoses and rifles. And, experience makes all the difference. From an early age he grew up with both guns and hoses in his hands. In fact, later, as an experienced musician having a guitar in his hands, he experimented with naming his rock band “Guns and Hoses”. But, alas, it wasn’t all that popular so he returned to his roots in Country Music. Another band capitalized on the idea and became famous. Such a deal.

In any case, not everyone is up to the task of taking on a savage, grub-noshing, razor-toothed, California Pocket Gopher. In fact, one of the furry buggers chased Connie around the patio just this very morning! Gopher 1, Connie 0! She wasn’t a happy camper for losing that race. Nor is just anyone capable of taking on a sneaky, camouflaged, and fleet of foot, hole digging, fruit snatching, ground squirrel. Nosiree. But, OFR is up to the thankless and time consuming chore.

So far, the tally is 3 demented ground squirrels (they were crazy enough to show up at my ranch) taken with a scoped .22 rifle at 100’ and 5 pocket gophers flushed from the ground with a water hose and dispatched forthwith. Of course, there will be no discussion of the bucket of bullets fired without hitting anything other than Bermuda grass and dirt clods. The 6lb trigger pull on the Ruger will be remedied shortly.

Speaking of instruments of death, there is now a new one added to the full inventory of one rifle. Because the critters have ramped up their assault on the ranch, OFR just purchased a nice Mossberg 17 HMR rifle. This little baby is a big time “boomer” that fires either a 17 grain or a 20 grain slug at the spirited pace of about 2350 fps. This makes the humble-but-beloved .22 long rifle bullet seem to be bolted to the gun. It only travels o’er the sod at about 1250 fps. The Mossy will reach out and slap someone and be back home in a heart beat and waiting for the .22 to make up its mind what to do.

An unexpected fact is that we just bought a …hold on to your Studebaker, granny…BANJO! A friend of mine called me the other day and advised that a friend of his had a banjo for sale. Seems the banjo was all but new and in pristine condition and that the previous owner needed a few extra bucks. The Epiphone banjo (about a 200 dollar item) was flung my way for a mere 40 dollars! There was no way that I wasn’t going to buy the thing. I’ve already ordered the thumb and finger picks. I should be able to drive the neighbors and their dog crazy any time now.

Just about everyone knows that, when someone is learning to play a banjo, there is no such thing as “just a banjo” without a string of adjectives preceding it. You know what I mean: “Dash blast the gosh darn blankety heck! Stop playing that &^%$##@ banjo before both of you end up at the bottom of the lake!”. The poor beginner picker is in deep Dutch until he is at least capable of playing the theme song from “Deliverance”.  It’s much worse than my leaning to play the fiddle. With the fiddle, all I do is keep the cats away.

One more fact…the saga, drama, excitement, building, and blessings will continue next time. Don’t fiddle with that digital frequency manipulator.

The Party's Over

It only took about 30 minutes or so for the bus to haul our pink fundaments to Pismo. I suppose that it beats paying 20 clams for a taxi ride (har har …I crack myself up). That is, if there was cell service available by which I could even call a cab (and, for some reason, there just wasn’t cell service at Oceano Airport). Hey, Joe Clearance Sale is always looking for a bargain, eh?

We relieved the bus of its burdensome two and began to take in beautiful downtown Pismo Beach. It is a place teeming with …diversity (I can’t think of what else to call it and if I don’t use the word “diversity”, the liberal thought police will shut down my blog and haul me before Nancy Pelosi for judgment).

I like Pismo. Even if I don’t want my nose, ears, nipples, and belly button pierced and don’t want tattoos on my buttocks and pectorals proclaiming that I’m in love with “MOM”, roses, and skulls. You can buy a boogie board, a great low-fat yogurt (akin to low-fat milk drenched card board but with sugar added), coffee latte (oh, yes. I did manage to partake of one of those delectable goodies), saltwater taffy (yep…I was definitely tempted but passed), and can visit a myriad number of other book stores, chowder shops, and other interesting places.

You can play pool or you can rent a bicycle for two, a surrey-cycle with a canopy, an ATV, or even a Segway two wheeler. You can get your palm read (though not at all advised by this un-lax’er), get a load of sea food for lunch (very much advised by this un-lax’er), and perhaps top it all off with a luscious ice cream cone (muy tempted…but we passed on that, too).

In about an hour of taking in the local shops and reveling in the wonderfully cool air and coastal sunshine, we decided to catch the bus back to the airport. You could probably say that we were suffering a sensory overload but it was still a nice time.

We walked back to the exact same bus stop at which we debarked and parked on the amazingly uncomfortable solid steel grill bench (making it more difficult for the illegal aliens to steal, don’tcha know). The bus schedule says that we only had to wait a few minutes but in reality, we had to wait about 20 minutes. So much for “on the hour” scheduling. Oh, well. Getting a tad redder on my already sunburned face isn’t all that big of a deal. We have some aloe vera on hand at home. Thankfully, there’s no one there that recognized me. In fact, I’m not sure that, after being wind swept and sun burned, my mother would know me.

Boy! I usually think that 2 and 2 makes 4. Well….not this time. We boarded the bus and headed back to the airport. Or, so we thought. Yes, we were heading north first to continue the route. Then, we headed south after reaching the uttermost northern parts of Pismo Beach proper. In only about an half an hour or so we exited Pismo for Grover Beach. OK, says we. It’s not a problem as long as we are headed south.

Headed south we were. Ah, but there was a catch. In strict accordance to the bus route, we were headed all over the place in Grover Beach (guess they forgot to ask us about the route we wanted to take). Fine! We can deal with seeing parts of Grover Beach ….again. Oh, but wait, folks! There’s more! We’re now headed for Arroyo Grande away from the airport! I wasn’t expecting the cook’s tour of the place. For corn flakes! I just wanted to go to the airport!

OK….at this point we are “bus prisoners”. What can you do but just force your fanny to conform to the concrete like gorilla-proof space-age plastic seats and wait it out. *SIGH*. We realized that it was obvious that we will not get the Cessna home on time. This is not making me smile.

On the northbound trip we had to stop at a transfer point in Grover Beach. It was a right-nice park of sorts where folks would swap buses. A few folks were parked in the grass resting and reading while other were availing themselves of the modern plumbing that was nearby (that would include us).

On the southbound ride, we found that we had to stop there again. Thanks to my side-cook, full-time wife, and assistant navigator, Connie, I was prompted to ask die busen fuhrer if we were still on the bus that goes to the Oceano Airport. Can you even imagine my surprise when he said, “No”? My jaw dropped so far down that I could have swallowed an entire Monterey cypress tree.

He pointed to another bus that was patiently waiting to haul ignorant sun-burned tourists like me and said, “That’s the one you want”. He graciously handed us a pair of transfer tickets and we bade him “farewell” (he probably would have understood if I had said, “adios” but I’m not a conformist, don’tcha know). As I stepped off, I asked the nice man about how long it would take to reach Oceano Airport. He advised that it would be in about a half an hour. Great. We had already gone only three miles south and it had only taken us an hour. We have but a mere two more miles further south to go to be able to leave this fair and sunny land of tattoos and seagulls and we can depart for home. Can you spell P-A-T-I-E-N-C-E?

Here we go…on to the next bus and wherever the heck it may take us. Sure enough, we did get the full cook’s tour of Arroyo Grande prior to entering Oceano. Granted, Arroyo Grande is the home of the “Strawberry Festival”. But, that’s wasn’t until May 28-29 (this previous weekend). But, there wasn’t much else to see that couldn’t be seen anywhere else on the coast.

After only a couple of stops in Oceano, we could see familiar territory in the distance. We unloaded our bodies, complete with the flat spots on our newly-polished shiny hineys, and walked across the street to the airport.

Now, get this. Only in the modern world can this happen. It only took an hour to fly from Visalia to Oceano and the distance was almost exactly 120 miles as the Cessna flies. It’s only about 5 miles from Pismo Beach to Oceano and it takes an hour and a half to make the trip by bus! Boy, howdy! If that don’t make you want to eat grits and throw biscuits at the neighbor’s dog! 

Finally, we able to preflight the 150 horse power high-winged creature that had brought us thus far and plop our tired airframes inside. We strapped in and lit the fire. The Cessna was most compliant and came to life without a complaint. After we taxied to the end of the runway, we announced our departure and poured the coal to the Lycoming O-320. Off we went into the stiff cross wind.

Departure at Oceano is quite beautiful. Watching the ocean and beaches glide by is quite spectacular.  And, you have to fly runway heading until you are passed the town prior to making any turns. After that, you can do as you please. We took a few pictures of the coastline and of the many kite flyers that were beneath us. It was a most gorgeous sight.

In a tad more than an hour (due to a bit of a headwind), we arrived back at the Visalia Municipal Airport. The owner of the FBO was most understanding about the fact that we were a half hour late in returning his ship. Apparently it had not been scheduled for that evening so it was no big deal. We had to first bed down the plane and do the paperwork.  After that, we were headed to a pizza place in Hooterville for a political meeting of like minded folks who think that abiding by the Constitution is a good thing.

When we finally got to Rancho Relaxo, we were…uh…how you say in English….pooped and sunburned….but happy to have had a great day and adventure at the coast. If our bodies can handle it, we may even try it again ….someday. In one day we had driven in a car, flown an airplane, ridden on a bus, eaten in a train dining car, and had transported ourselves all over Pismo Beach by shoe. Such a deal.

The recovery continues. According to dear friends, Don and Shirley Gerber in Apple Valley, CA, we are suffering from “fun poisoning”. No doubt in my mind.

YOU CAN DOUBLE CLICK ON THE PICTURES TO ENLARGE THEM. THE OCEANO AIRPORT IS AT THE TOP RIGHT AND JUST BELOW THE LARGE SAND DUNE MASS.

Randy and Connie's Day Off

There’s an old adage that says something like, “All work and no play makes Randy and Connie tired and proves that they aren’t dealing with a full deck”. So as not to be iconoclastic, we took a day off from tending Rancho Relaxo and went west for some R&R.

Those of you who are rather savvy know that, from here, you can’t go all that far west until you run  into a natural barrier that some folks call the Pacific Ocean (while others call it Mar Pacifica but we won’t go there for now and will reserve comment for another blog called “Randy’s Rant Roost”). That was our destination, the big blue Pacific Ocean.

To be specific, it was a little quaint but bustling little burg called Pismo Beach. I’m not sure but, I think that the town was named after San Luis O’Pismo  who was the Irish Catholic second cousin by marriage to well known San Luis Obispo whose town is 8 miles away. It is rumored that Luis named the town after the 5 pound namesake pet clam that he dug up from the local beach.

Pismo has long been noted as a place to rent a boogey board, an ATV with which to try to kill oneself on the sand dunes, and a great place to pig out on fish and chips, clam chowder, coffee latte’, or a myriad of other things that may please the palate. You can also dig to your hearts content for the local bivalves.

We didn’t drive. Oh, no. That takes far too long and we didn’t want to spend all of our time on the highway dodging people whose IQ test turned out negative but who have nonetheless been given a drivers license. And, it seems that, as I approach being “aged to mellowness”, it is no longer great fun to cradle my over-weight middle-aged airframe squarely on my buttocks for hours at a time. In fact, as time progresses, it takes greater and greater effort to remove the flat spots from my heiny after a long trip in a car.

What did we do, you ask? We rented a Cessna 172 and flew over there, of course. I’ve been flying with Western Air in Visalia for quite some time (previously Sierra Aviation). They have a couple of Cessna 172’s, a Cessna 150 (which I refuse to fly except solo since it’s incapable of flight with more than two cups of gas when two people are aboard) and a Piper Warrior. The plane was scheduled in advanced for the day so all we had to do was show up.

Ah, yes…the details. Prior to showing up, we did greet the morning soon enough. It wasn’t exactly the crack of dawn. It was more like the widened fissure of developed sunshine or such. It took a couple of doses of strong coffee latte’ (from my new Breville espresso maker) right straight in the eyes to initiate forward ambulation.

The plan was to depart the house in time to be at the airport at 0830 hrs local time so we could prep the plane and saddle up for departure at approximately 0900 hrs. However (there’s always a “however”, eh?), I double checked the weather for our route and it confirmed my suspicions. I had called the Flight Service Station (FSS) the previous evening for an “extended briefing” for our planned route. The forecast didn’t sound all that bad but it still sounded a bit “iffy” to me. My experience with flying to the coast led me to believe that there was a significant possibility that there would be coastal fog and weather that would “burn off” around 11 AM or just a bit after that. That turned out to be exactly the case. The “standard briefing” that morning confirmed my concerns. Soooooo…..we just downshifted and took our time loading the van and preparing for the trip and left the house at about 8:30 AM. The extra latte’ (home-brewed with a special coffee mix) was greatly appreciated.

We drove the 42 miles to the Visalia airport contemplating and discussing the possibilities of the day and the adventures that it could bring.  Because Porterville no longer has an FBO (fixed base operator) that rents aircraft, a trip to Visalia was cursory. This is almost mind boggling given the fact that Porterville has had an FBO continually from 1955 until 1995. It was almost a no-brainer because Porterville Municipal Airport has a 5908’ x 150’ runway and had plenty of room for practice areas et. al.. The location is ideal for flight instruction. It had been a USAAF bomber and fighter base during WW2.

For reasons not completely understood by this private pilot, interest in general aviation seems to be on the decline so there simply aren’t enough student pilots to warrant flight instruction at our airport. It is sad to report that there is only one flight instructor available who is on call. If I have my way about it, there will be two by next year.

After arriving at KVIS, we headed to the office of the FBO (Western Air). It doesn’t take long to pre-flight a C-172. And, the FBO filled the tanks and de-bugged the windscreen prior to our arrival. So, we had only to toss our flight bag and some jackets on board then strap in.

The nice thing about this old bird (N96836), was that she had a spiffy new Garmin GPS-430 stuck in her instrument panel. The 430 is to airplanes as the astrolabe was to ships. This beauty will keep you apprised of everything while en-route but the TV channel the folks below you are watching! You dial in your destination airport and it will not only direct you there, but will show you alternate airports and has VOR navigational capabilities! It’s a great buy for a mere 5, 000 dollars (the Garmin 530 is 15, 000 bucks, so the 430 is a real steal!).

Our departure turned out to be at 1005 hrs. The local weather showed scattered clouds to the west as was forecast by the FSS. We climbed above them to smoother air and parked at 6,500’. In an hour we were nose to nose with the Oceano Airport (just a few miles south of Pismo which doesn’t have its own airport). The landing was passable. But, due to the stiff offshore wind, it wasn’t quite the “squeeker” that I had desired. We did walk away from our arrival at 1105 hrs.

What do you do when you go someplace in an airplane and don’t have even a bicycle or Avis waiting for you? You walk. Oh, great. My body has a difficult time hauling itself around Wal-Mart and now I’m making it walk from the airport to beautiful downtown Oceano six blocks away!

I hadn’t been to Oceano since flying there in 1999. The buildings were actually about the same. However, someone forgot to keep the same businesses and restaurants the same! Connie and I wanted to suck up a bit of clam chowder but the place I had in mind was now being used for a storage shed. The rest of the businesses rented ATV’s.

We moseyed up the hill to the old liquor store that was there in ’68 when I flew there for the first time and which will likely be there until the Millennium. The nice lady there advised that we could dine at the Mexican restaurant two blocks east or hike a couple blocks further south from the Mexican place to the “Rock N Roll Diner”. Mexican food was not our first choice because we had recently knocked over a local place call “China’s Alley” so we weren’t much interested in “comida Mexicana”. Plus, we’re at the coast, for crying out loud! Let’s do seafood!

Given such options (which included calling a cab but …there was no cell phone service there!!), we strolled on over to the “Rock N Roll Diner”. We purposely ate a light breakfast so that we would be hungry when we got to our destination. Also, we ate light so we wouldn’t have to land on a distant alfalfa field halfway to the coast for “relief”.

The diner was a hoot! The restaurant was two train dining cars hooked together with other buildings glued to them for support. The interior was 100% a blast from the past. The walls were plastered with vintage movie bills and rock and roll memorabilia. In the background, they continually played R&R music! The rest of the décor was up to 50’s par and you can trust me on this; I was there.

The menu offered a seafood sampler so we opted for that. The most I can say for it was that it was off-the-shelf Smart and Final. I had hoped for a tad more than that but it didn’t happen. According to the write-ups and reviews I looked up afterwards, I should have ordered from the breakfast menu. Oh, well. It was our day off and things were moving along nicely and we were enjoying it all.

Having a full tummy will insure that your mind thinks creatively. Mine wanted to find a way to immediately take a nap. When I tried to convinced it that naps were not on the menu, it merely mocked me and advised me that my intelligence was sorely lacking and on par with a box of crackers. It then reminded me of the bench at the nearby duck-laden park down the street on which to lie down. It was duly apprised that I was still looking for options.

We were almost to the point of just calling it a day and flying back home. However, it was only when we ambled (well…more like hobbled) back to the airport (some 5 blocks away) that we did have an option. That was because we noticed that there was a bus stop bench across from the airport.

“Sit down on the bench! This is not a request!!”, my lower back loudly demanded. “If you do not sit down now, I am headed to Florida and moving in with a Cuban Rumba dancer who gives Swedish massages and you and your enlarged gluteus maximus can stay in California!”. OK. So, I caved in to the demands and parked on the bench. I still needed my lower back for now and it was much too early to contend with such difficult negotiations. I just tossed in the chamois and called it a day.

In only about 30 minutes of the hairdo wrecking breezy day and baking in the delightful coastal sunshine which toasted my moon tan to hell, a modern municipal bus, powered by compressed natural gas (CNG), picked us up. We boarded the bus and, for a mere 1.25 each, settled in for a ride to Pismo. My feet were high-fiving. My back simply grunted, “Good call”.

Stay tuned for part two.

Build, Baby! Build!

After what seemed like an endless monsoon season around here, we finally have a dry spell. It isn’t so dry that the frogs in the ditch out front have stopped croaking their love songs at night. The bulls are mindlessly singing their alluring tunes to attract females. It must be working, in fact. They are still happy and they are still making more frogs for the next wet season. However, it is dry enough to hang clothes on the clothesline again.

 Oh, boy….here he goes again on a 500 furlong tangent. We have a nice clothesline out back and adjacent to the garage. It’s a beaut that is surrounded by a white picket fence. However, it has to have a willing participant to maintain it with an equally willing weedeater because the enclosure is too small for a lawn tractor (*sigh*). If one is not mindful, the small plot becomes an impassible jungle with a pocket gopher as the only tenant and supervisor.

Perhaps some folks don’t recall having sun-and-air dried clothes but I’m here to tell you that this procedure is coming back in vogue. Well….sort of. Some people have yet to retrograde their laundry process for the sake of frugality. You have to admit that you can save enough in electricity costs to feed a large ‘possum by letting your undies flap in the breeze. And, there is the wonderfully fresh smell of nature that is lodged in your socks (whaddayoumean you’ve never whiffed your socks?).

Of course, there is a small price to pay for this one-with-nature blast from the past. You have to endure a bit of abrasion from the stiff towels when you take a shower. It’s not all that bad, I suppose. It’s sort of like drying with maybe 180 grit sandpaper, but not much more than that. And, of course, you have to bend them into shape and loosen them up a bit before you use them. However, the upside is that you get to experience layers of aromatic nature and sunshine trapped in the fabric of the sandpaper that exfoliates your tender epidermis. Hey! Think of it this way. You will never be troubled by excess dead skin cells again!

Yeah, I suppose that there are certain areas of my epithelium that I don’t want to purposely abrade. Somewhere in the back of mind there’s the thought that my body will compensate by building a callous or two or at least respond with some skin thickening. Uh….I’m trying to get a visual on this and it isn’t looking very pretty so far. I can always use the localized drip dry method, I suppose. Oh, well.

I survived the first 20 years of my life using this archaic method so I reckon I’ll make it a few more years with some minor scratch marks. Besides, winter will always show up which forces the use of the gas dryer which produces a soft, warm, and fluffy towel which allows time for your reddened skin to heal. You also get to smell like Bounce lilac flavored softener sheets. Not a bad trade.

OK, so I haven’t actually met anyone recently who is hanging their skivvies out for the neighbors to see. But, I know that times are getting more financially trying and I am convinced that there are some secret “hangers” out there somewhere. More are sure to follow this time-tested method of drying everything from tea towels to didys. Rancho Ran’s tip of the day is: you may want to buy some clothes pins while they are still cheap!

In fact, a lot of folks are starting to be more conservative with their finances what with the economic climate with which we are dealing (for more on that, you may want to check out “Randy’s Rant Roost” at http://randyminnick.blogspot.com from time to time). We’re stocking up on lots of items that will come in handy if the fertilizer hits the ventilator (economically speaking).

Back to the barn….on Wednesday the contractor advised that he would “drop off” the lumber on Friday. Imagine our surprise when Connie and I came home from Torrance on Saturday night and found that the barn had been framed in! We were almost dancin’ in the moonlight! If we hadn’t been so tired… and so middle aged… and so...overweight, the neighbors may have seen us doe-see-doe! There had been a concern that the barn would not be completed by the time we have the big (we’re talking big) yard sale at the end of this month and would have to postpone it again. It appears that we’re good-to-go.

The dimensions of the big barn are 20’ X 40’ of storage space with an upper loft that’s 8’ X 40’. It will be the same color (powder blue) and have the same siding as the house. There are two windows on each side with a 16’ roll-up door in the front. I’m planning to stick a big swamp cooler on the west side too. There will be electrical outlets everywhere and it will be insulated. The Ford 8N and the big Craftsman GT5000 lawn tractor will now have a nice home.

The upper loft will likely be used for storing dry goods and dry foods like flour, rice, and beans. The garage is currently being used to store both goods and food. It shouldn't take too awfully long to transport most of the items from the garage to the barn. In fact, I will be hiring a friend of mine to help with that chore (I’ll hire ten guys if I have to because I’m not lumping anything heavier than fishing tackle).

Speaking of yards sales, on the way to Torrance, we knocked over a few of them. It was “home run” season that day! We made out like bandits! Treasures included a 15” flat screen monitor (10 bucks!), an IDE hard drive enclosure (5 dollars!), a couple of powered USB hubs (2 dollars each!), a really nice metal storage rack with 5 shelves for the barn (15 dollars!), and a couple of items for Ebay selling. The shelving was easily disassembled so it fit into the back of the already crowded van. Connie scored with some goodies that she got for the grandkids.

Sometime in the near future we hope to return to Morro Bay and catch the yard sales they have over there. We cleaned up last year! People were almost throwing bargains at us!

Here it is the end of the first week in May (Mother’s Day, to be exact) and Connie and I have only been fishing once so far this year! What the heck is that all about?! We now have more than 30 freshly overhauled rods and reels, several tackle boxes, and hundreds of dollars of tackle and have only caught…one fish and one tree branch (at the expense of a new Mepps spinner).

We just returned from a couple of days in Harbor City/Torrance where we went to see Trixie’s newly born baby boy. This is her fourth child. That makes two boys and two girls. Can you imagine being a boy and having two elder sisters?! From what I can tell, though, the girls, Liesel (6) and Cosette (3), really love their new gender-opposite sibling. I saw them smooching him on the forehead a time or two.

As you can guess, Grandma Honey, held fast to the sleeping wee one a lot. How could she not do so?! He was as cute as a bug’s ear (which I’m sure he’ll appreciate that accolade a lot when he’s 25 years old). The little guy slept like a log due to the hyper dose of melatonin that God gives newborns.

Also, guess who got to jam with the best Country and Western musicians in the south valley? You bet! Ol’ Tele Slinger, Ran! There was a big benefit concert in Pixley at the Risi’s Pond Campground last week and I was invited. I’ve played with most of the guys before but it’s always a hoot to strap on the Telecaster and hook up with these great singers and players! The weather was most pleasant and the temperature was accommodating so we stayed for the duration.

The icing on the cake was to get to re-unite with picker, Paul Dobbs, who happens to be among the premier steel guitar player in country. He has played with a number of Nashville greats! I met Paul back in 1978 while living in Fresno and when he was playing in a local Christian band. It was great getting to play with him back then. We hadn’t seen each other until about 4 years or so ago when he played at a huge jam session in Exeter, CA. It was a great pleasure to get to play with him again!

My selections were “You’re Still On My Mind” (The Byrds) and “Excuse Me I Think I’ve Got a Heartache” (Buck Owens). I almost loaded my Huggie when Paul kicked the songs! Oh, man! Talk about good music! Paul had to head back home shortly after. So, after a big hug, he was gone back to Fresno.

After all was said and done, I had played about 5 hours with some of the best pickers between Fresno and Bakersfield! These guys are great and I had the distinct honor and pleasure to be included with the group!

When we got home, I was dog tired and ready to “un-lax”. It took a couple of days to recover but it was well worth it. It was a long but memorable day.

Stay tuned for the adventures of Rancho Ran and his side-cook, Connie. It’s never dull at Rancho Relaxo.

Easter at the Ranch

Easter is rapidly approaching and will be upon us before we even know what happened. So, “Farmer Ran” is getting his one duck in a row as quickly as he can.

The ground has been drying up after our rains so the contractor who is to build our barn called at 7:22 AM this (Tuesday) morning. That was just exactly as my left eye was breaking open to greet the day. That’s because Ol’ Ran had stayed up late the night before working on ‘puters on purpose. Normally, I would be up at about 6 AM or so.

After talking with the contractor in my best early morning gravelly voice, I knew that I had to move the four vehicles and a small trailer from the front driveway so he could do his thing improving the driveway. I was trying to wrap my head around the morning’s projects but it was like trying to play pool with a soggy noodle.

Things were going better after the morning latte’ made with my super-cool Breville stainless steel espresso maker…well…with the exception of the almost flat tire on the 1985 Toyota pickup. I just happened to have a nice red 33 gal. air compressor out back so I drove the lil’ picky-up truck around and stuffed some fresh air into the tire. Now things were moving along.

Well…with the exception of totally flat tire (ah, yes, the brand new one) on the small pull trailer. OK…time to re-group the one duck. I hooked the fully-loaded trailer to the pickup. At that time I was hearing my back cursing my brain and threatening it with unimaginable retribution. I had been called those things before but it had been awhile.  Then it was a really slow tow for about 100’ to the rear of the house where, it too, got aired up. Now, things were looking up.

Well…with the exception of the fact the Dodge handicap van’s battery was dead. I guess it serves me right not starting the thing once in awhile. It just so happens that Ol’ “Boy Scout”, Ran was prepared for such an event. I grabbed my fully-charged genuine Sears Craftsman Heavy Duty Jumpstart battery-to-go and hooked it to the van which then promptly started. Right on! Things were going great after a thorough morning workout.

Well…excepting the fact that the Mulberry tree had covered the driveway with a layer of muck after the recent rain. The fallen goop was all but Super Glued to the concrete. I grabbed the push broom and commenced to show the crap on the driveway just who was boss. Guess that makes me a “Crap Boss”. Sorta has a ring to it, eh? Another work out! Great! That was about as welcomed as a cactus in a nudist colony. At least things were moving along.

Well…except for the fact that the contractor had to remove another (smallish) almond tree. Last week, he had already dug up three of them and replanted them further back on the property. This forth one has a lot of nuts on it but we may not lose them if it pulls through the re-planting. I understood that, if an almond tree is deprived of water for any length of time, they can never again produce a full tree of nuts. I don’t mind having a fruitless Mulberry tree but I don’t think it’s such a good idea to have a fruitless almond tree. I dunno…maybe Monsanto will buy the thing. Finally, I was on top of everything.

Well…almost. The contractor advised that the pretty pea gravel that we had on the driveway was no longer available. Seems the rock quarry in the little town of Ducor (about 22 miles from here) that has existed since the Jurassic Age had gone out of business. Swell. That left me making a decision to go with ¾” rock. Decomposed granite almost made the cut but you have to baby sit the stuff and hose it down so that it will properly compact and keep the dust down. I don’t do windows, I don’t do dust, and I don’t baby sit driveways.

Rancho Relaxo is now the proud owner of a 1950 Ford 8N tractor. We need the little mule to be able to do the ground work that’s necessary around here. The motor has been overhauled and, though it’s a bit rough around the edges, it runs flawlessly. As soon as we can, we want to find a 6’ box drag scraper and a small disc. A front loader would be great too! The little cutie does need a battery and the fluids changed but that’s no biggy. I used to drive a little 8N when I was a teenager working for a citrus rancher in Strathmore.

On Wednesday (tomorrow), we’ll be headed to Harbor City/Torrance to catch the Easter pageant at Connie’s daughter’s home church. They have a spectacular on-stage production where members of the congregation play characters in the Bible. However, they represent paintings of characters in the Bible! Last years event was quite memorable and there’s no doubt that this one will be as well received.

That also means that I get to knock over the “Trader Joe’s” that isn’t far from Trixie’s house. From time to time we get to go to the one in Bakersfield. But, the one in Torrance is actually more convenient because we actually go to Torrance on purpose more than we go to Bakersfield on purpose.

The other day, Ol’ Ran was “ground sick”…sick of being on the ground. So, Connie and I grabbed a Cessna 172 and blew some holes in the sky. It was greatly needed by both of us. Connie had accompanied me on the bi-annual flight review but this was the first time that just the two of us had flown together. The thought was to boogey over to Woodlake, CA (O42) to sample the cuisine at the “Runway Café” there. I used to fly over there once in awhile when it was still the old "Outpost" restaurant. Their biscuits and gravy did the trick for me. They repaved the narrow crumbling runway but it's still only 2,200 feet long. You can’t go to sleep when landing there.

Lo and behold, when we got there, the joint was closed! I hadn’t been there in quite awhile and had forgotten that they are a breakfast and lunch place and that they closed at about 2 PM. We got there at 3:30 PM. C’est la vie, they say in Paris. I'll be back (as Arnold Schwarztenegger says).

I must say that it felt great to make a few laps around the pea patch (5 in all). But, I must also confess that I hadn’t flown in awhile and I was…how you say…RUSTY. UGH. Though rusty flying is a real workout, by the time I parked the plane, I was tired but happy. It was a real attitude adjustment, to be sure.

The first landing was a “squeeker”. However, the gusting spring wind was not about to let me gloat over such a feat. The next landings were entirely acceptable but I had to do a bit of waltzing on the rudder pedals and had to keep a wing low to accommodate the feisty cross wind.

Anyway...next month I'm flying us over to Pismo for a whale watching gig. The airport is actually south of there in Oceano (check out their webcam: http://www.oceanoairport.com/aircam2.htm). We'll spend the night most likely then boogie back to Hooterville later in the morning when the fog lifts. Oceano was the very first cross-country destination that dear friend, Jerry Lewis, Vicki Carter (my fiance' at the time), and I took not long after the ink had dried on my pilot's license June 30^th, 1968. It was in mid-August if I recall. I’ve flown in and been back a few times in the previous 15 years. They have a campground for pilots and will loan you a bike! My previous wife and I camped out there many years ago.

When we returned from Oceano in '68, we forgot our collection of shells and starfish in the rear floorboard of the Cherokee. It was 105 degrees outside and about 140 degrees inside the enclosed airplane!! Wheeeeeeew! I talked to Eddie Wood the owner about that when I moved back here in '96. He said the airplane still stank of rotten fish when he sold the plane a few years later!!  I have no doubt at all.

This Sunday is Easter. We pray that all have a blessed weekend as we celebrate the resurrection of our Lord. While the kiddies are hiding eggs with each eating 3 pounds of candy, the old folks here at the ranch will be taking a nap. Naps are our friends.

Stay tuned for the adventures of the “Grand Exhausted ‘Puter Poobah” and his side cook, Connie.

Rancho Relaxo aka Jerkyville

Ah, yes. Spring has sprung and things at the ranch are awakening to a green lawn, blooming flowers, wonderfully cool temperatures, and ...moles.

The mole in our front yard has begun to mock me by dotting the freshly-mowed lawn with his earthen redoubts of defiance. No sooner do I evict the pesky mammal than his neighbor moves in. It's a never ending battle.

There are several approaches to ridding one’s lawn of these varmints but none appear to be very effectual. I was thinking about ramping up the battle to the next level by using a backhoe or perhaps filling a 2 liter jug with black powder and a fuse. Naw…maybe not. The folks next door probably wouldn’t appreciate having to clean large chunks of my lawn from their roof.

The rain has kept the ground soft in our back yard so the building of our barn is being delayed. It’ll be a super nice 40’ x 20’ sanctuary for our beans and rice and the field mice. Oh, well.

 I got around to soaking and purging the residential water filter and it only needs to be plumbed in. The contractor for the barn knows a guy that can install it for us.

Speaking of water…our well stopped dead in its tracks the other day. It's discomforting to turn the tap handle and be greeted with silence. The inferences are stark. We have three bathrooms to last the day so we had to do some "figurin'". I figured that, at some point, I'd need to head to the "Indian Station" 2.6 miles down the road. That turned out to not be the case because we had options (stored water bottles).

That was on a Sunday afternoon. We called the pump service guy, Tim Witzel, who was a few years behind me in school. His sister, Kathy was in the same class as me and his elder brothers, Ronnie and Darrel, were just ahead of me in school. Darrel is a fellow pilot and a good friend of mine.

Anyway, Tim hustled out on Monday and found that the contacts had been compromised by earwigs. How interesting. We had to be out of town Monday and Tuesday. So, when we returned, we had water. It was a minor inconvenience to have to drink bottled water and miss one shower.

The first thought was to just shove the valve on our newly installed system and tap into our river/ditch water. But, wouldn’t you know, the ditch water was stopped for the annual cleaning! That’s why we had 15 2L bottles of water stored in the garage and elsewhere! They surely came in handy that day!

It is difficult to express the pleasure that is being derived from the new Breville espresso maker. It makes the perfect latte’ and cappuccino. I can’t speak for anyone else over 60 but, it takes a couple of latte’s so Ol’ Ran can move faster than a sleeping bullet. Besides, it’s cheaper than calling AAA for a jumpstart every morning and much less painful than a precordial thump.

I picked up my new Mossberg 20GA pump shotgun from Big 5 the other day. The quail are in big trouble if I have a hankering for wild game birds. She’s a real beauty. It’s the only multiple shot shotgun that I have at this point in time. I have a single shot .410, 20GA, and 12G. I’ve only shot the .410 so far. I’m not at all a sportsman. The only desire is to harvest game for the table. The shotguns are a bit loud (if not somewhat expensive) to just blast away for grins and purposeful degradation of one’s hearing.

We have Canadian geese that regularly fly over the property. Sometimes they are low enough to throw rocks at. At some point, I can see harvesting a few big birds for the curing of hunger. The back yard sees a regular presence of quail, too. I was able to take one with a .22 pellet rifle from 60’. They call that “plumb lucky” where I come from especially considering that it was a “head shot”. “Ran, the sniper”, they call me. We haven’t seen any ring-neck pheasants on the property but have seen a couple of them along Globe Road.

If you consider that we have the Tule River about a half mile away and that Success Lake is only 4 miles down the hill, you can see that there are options for a continued supply of protein should the need arise.

We do have a current fishing license but have yet to take the poles for a stroll. The state gets a whopping 42 clams (heheh…I crack myself up) each for the license. If that isn’t highway robbery, I don’t know what is.

I’ve been trying my hand at making beef jerky. That means that our two main dehydrators (of the 4 that we have) have been getting a work out. It appears that I will never again have to purchase jerky at retail prices that push 35 dollars per pound. This stuff is outstanding! I was surprised how easy it is to get great results! Using different spices makes for some really good snacking! “Ol’ Jerky Ran” they call me (at least that’s what I thought they called me).

A cool and unanticipated aspect of making jerky is that the new Mexican super market, Villarta, in Hooterville sells the ultra-lean beef that I use for making jerky. But, they slice it Mexican style which is rather thin. It’s exactly the right size for jerky! It saves me a step in the process! We do have a small meat slicer but this is so much easier that it doesn’t see much usage.

My interest in Ham radio is returning somewhat. I just purchased a nice Kenwood R-600 shortwave radio so I can listen to the Ham bands and brush up on my Morse code. Also, a friend of mine sold me his Yaesu FT2400 VHF/2 Meter mobile unit for a more than fair price. I have a Yaesu FT-530 VHF/UHF dual band hand held as well. It was a gift from dear friend, Jeff Edgecomb (KB7PMO) in Longview, WA.

The next step is to build an antenna then get an HF transceiver. We’ll see. Not much time to work with as of late (not that I mind). I love to build wire antennas like the inverted “V”, regular dipole, or “sloper” but, due to constraints on my playtime, I may just purchase a multi-band vertical and mount it on the roof.

I sold my Kenwood TS440S HF rig 7 years ago. It was sitting around begging me to dust it so it could see daylight. It persisted so my lightening-fast mind said, “If you ain’t gonna use it, sell it on Ebay, dummy”. So, off to Ebay it went where it sold right away. It now has a nice dustless home and a caring operator.

The new Crate GLX212 guitar amp is getting used frequently. I keep the Fender Teleblaster hooked to it all the time. I sometimes switch to the Strat or the Les Paul but the Tele is the preferred ax. There was an amp-shaped hole in my heart into which the big Crate fits perfectly.

The other day, Connie was medicating a sore spot on the inside of my right ear. It was where my Bluetooth device had somewhat degraded my epithelium. She grabbed a cotton ball, smeared some kind of antibiotic goop on it and shoved it my ear. Never one to allow an opportunity to josh someone pass by, I said, “’Ol’ cotton sticker, Connie,’ they call her. Yep...'Cotton sticker'. Sort of has a ring to it, don'tcha think?”.  Boy! She looked me right straight into my pretty brown eyes and said, “Reckon just where would you like for me to stick the next batch of cotton?” Kind of hard to pull one over on her!

That’s most of the news from “Rancho Relaxo”. Stayed tuned because “things” are happening around here.

Soggy Rancho Relaxo and Other Updates

In the words of John Fogerty, “Who’ll Stop the Rain?”…reckon no one will. Oh, well. We actually need the rain here. If it keeps up, we’re sure to have a nice seasonal snow pack in them thar hills. But, when it finally stops, I won’t be missing “Lake Constance” out front or “Stuck Duck Pond” in the back.

Lots of neat things happening at the ranch. For instance, we’re having a 20’ x 40’ barn built. The idea is to remove the goodies from the garage so that we will have room to…park the cars in! Imagine that! It’ll be great to have a place in which to park the lawn tractor too. The big co-ordinated blue barn (to match the house) has an upper loft for storage in which we can store all kinds of things. Most likely it will be junk but...hey...it's treasure, don'tcha know.

The residential water filter has been soaked and purged. It only needs to be plumbed. We’ll have three course filters in line prior to the big filter. That way we can use the Tule River water as a backup.

The big 36 slot gun safe arrived safe and sound (heheh…couldn’t help myself). It was purchased from “Patriot Safe Company”. I had been looking at the scratch and dent safes because it will be stowed in the garage and cosmetics is irrelevant. However, after discovering that I am a former police officer, the sales agent promptly gave me a new unit for the same price! Works for me! It will be bolted to the garage floor…once we find the garage floor.

Recently, Connie was perusing Craig’s List. One of her finds was a super clean Crate GLX212 120watt guitar amplifier (bless her darlin’ heart). We called the guy up on Fresno and advised him that we would be there the next day. It’s a good thing that we didn’t hesitate as it would have been unlikely that such a nice amp would have lasted much longer.  This was timely since my little Peavy amp has been misbehaving and throwing tantrums. It's about 12 years old and should know better. It'll work as a backup unit especially if I need humming and buzzing in the background.

While in Fresburg, we noticed that our tummies were growling. It didn’t take long to remember one of my favorite restaurants there, Yoshino’s. They have tappan/teppan cooking there where a chef defends his large hot griddle with a large knife, heavy duty spatula, and a mega-pepper mill. Not having knocked over the place in over twenty years (*sigh*), we beat feet to beat the crowd. We made it right on time.

Our Japanese chef was named “Benny”. He further tendered that he likes to go by “Benny Haha” (hear: Benny Hanna). That brought a smile to the middle-aged folks that sat around the perimeter of his hot arena. As he tossed on a batch of soon-to-be-fried rice, he dipped out some butter and slung it over onto the grill from about 3 feet away. “Butter fly”, he said. Nothing like a good groaner to aid digestion, I always say.

Needless to say, we had a grand time watching him slash the onions into large rings. He stacked them up to make a small cone. Then he fueled them with a splash of spirits (probably vodka) and then lit it with a match. It was a wonderful pyrotechnic “onion volcano” (which sped up the cooking process significantly, I should suppose).

After quelling the hunger riot with shrimp, pork loin, rice, and veggies et. al., we headed back home quite tired but content with the day.

I haven’t stopped playing this big beaut amplifier. It makes me look really good! There will be a lot of miles placed on the Telecaster, no doubt.

There’s no telling what was happening in Connie’s head but she was still looking on Craig’s List. She had me look at this one particular ad for a Breville espresso maker. Most everyone knows that Ol’ Ran is a bean head who loves having a couple of latte’s in the mornings to get the brain pressure up to nominal readings. We have a little cheapie espresso maker but it was lacking three acres of class. The one Connie was looking at retailed for about 400 bucks. Bill Clinton will be married to a real woman before I chip that much for a coffee maker! However, the guy in Bakersfield only wanted 100 dollars for this one and…it was new in the box! Now, that’s more like it!  “Ol’ New-in-the-Box”, they call me.

We called the guy and advised that we would be down the next day. After picking up the big 15lb stainless steel beauty, we headed off to “Zorba’s” for our weekly lube job (also known as the burger, fries, and soda combo meal).

It took a couple of days to get a feel for this awesome machine. It has a couple of minor idiosyncrasies that merely require paying attention to. After that, it’s no worries. I think I’m getting spoiled!

To round out the week’s activities, we picked up the new 20 GA Mossberg pump shotgun from Big 5. The quail need to fear and tremble. I like quail meat. Most likely there’ll be a few doves on the table as well. She’s all black and fairly light weight and is sure to be a real crowd pleaser.

More from Rancho Relaxo when the moderator has a tad more time. He’s off to finish setting up a client’s home network.