Rancho Crasho, Blesso, Scratcho, Melto

There I was at 20,000 feet....below the clouds. Fokkers to the left of me...not so much. Fokkers to the right of me....not sure but the neighbors are pushing their luck. Fearlessly (read, "stupidly"), the intrepid dolt dove straight ahead into the targeted okra formation. Ah, but a vile and wily enemy had planted an intercept: an evil trap with which to defeat the simpleton lawn tractor pilot....poison ivy! Think about it (you may as well; the enemy didn't require much thought at all); what better trap could you set?! How perfectly camouflaged! How nasty and effective! 

I had managed to do something that no one around here had thought possible. That was to not only find a poison ivy in this area (it's usually a bit further up the hill) but to actually abuse myself with it! The only conclusion we could come up with is that it migrated into the garden box from our compost pile. A few days later I looked for it but couldn't find it. It's there; I just need to hunt around and will do that when I clear the garden box for next season (wearing a long sleeved shirt and gloves, to be sure...I'll be armed with a flame thrower).

The effects began the next day and, boy!, did the popcorn hit the fan! My arm was on fire with the predictably fierce itching accompanying it. My lighting-fast mind began singing the '60's song,  "Poison Ivy" ("Well, late at night when you're a'sleeping poison ivy comes a'creeping' all around"...can I get a "thumbs up" from all you old people?). I wanted to slap myself but figured that "swimming in an ocean of Calamine lotion" wasn't such a bad idea after all. However, hauling around a pink arm wasn't all that appealing so I sought alleviation by other means. Aloe Vera seemed to work well in my case (I shoulda been a dahktah, eh?). 

In only a couple of weeks I'll be back to normal and my arm won't look like it had been marched across by Paulus' 6th Army. Note to self: pay attention, Ran.

"There's nothing like having a smart dog around the house", I always say. Here's Miss Abby getting her Windows 10 update training. Can't quite get her interested in MS Word but she's really into Snoopy, Scooby Doo, Clifford, and Astro. 

 For all of you former "Panthers" and "Villians", here's a shot of the new roundabout at Highway 190 and Reservation Road. Yes; that is "Success Market" in the background.   

Dash blast the gosh darn blankety heck! It’s October! Do the math on that; .5833 percent of the year has been chewed up! I still have haven’t finished spring cleaning! Reckafretcha peckaloomer (uh…you’ll probably need to confer with a Martian friend for the translation on that)!

Anyway….let’s ditch the floggenschmoggen and go straight to the Rancho update: have I mentioned that things could get “interesting” around the ranch? Thought so. I mean to tell you….it really has been an interesting month! The major issues have been contained but it has been quite a ride. Not that everything has been a mess. No, siree. We’re quite blessed around here. It’s just that, in the course of human events, mas mierda (you’ll need to confer with a Mexican friend for the translation) happens. Let’s take a look.

 On the whole, all is actually (though finally) well here at the ranch. In fact, even the weather has decided to be our friend. We’ve experienced very unseasonable coolness lately. Not a single person has complained! Imagine that! My experience has been that it doesn’t get below 95 degrees until after the third in September and even then it can shoot up a bit. We had a day in the high 70’s only a few days ago! Amazing. Today was 91 degrees but no one in this area considers that “hot”.

We have “Ol’ Swampy” to keep us cool. She’s the big evaporative cooler who dutifully blows cool air into our domicile so that the old folks don’t move to Alaska to cool off. But, even she had a problem not long ago so we had long-time friend, Darrell Blasingame, to send a man over to discover what the issue was. Come to find out, the pads were hardened by our high mineral content water (looks like the ranch will need a water softener, eh?). We replaced the pads (a mere 200 dollars since they were “special” ones…I should say!) and went about staying cool. Or, so we thought.

Something still wasn’t quite right. Though things were a bit better we weren’t staying as comfortable as what we remembered. So, we called Darrell again and he sent the same guy out to see what was happening. What he found was that same hard water than had hardened the pads had clogged the water distribution lines. He cleared those and our comfort level was restored. Staying cool is expensive but, at my age, it’s worth it. I ain’t suffering through the summer! Period!  In a few weeks, we won’t have to use it at all. That’ll be sweller for this feller.

The Ol’ Ranch Hand Report: when, in the course of human events and gardening, you do everything right, you’ll very likely encounter a load of remmelschmeissen (you’ll need your Martian friend again). I had already known that there were many loads of things that I didn’t want to encounter in this life but didn’t know until now that remmelschmeissen was one of them. This one was a painful load! I’m certainly glad that I now know yet another load to eschew.

Now…on Mars, that’s a real word and, as they say, a really floggynoggy one at that. To make it a little less plebian on Earth, you can just say, “…encountered a load of mixed animal dung, manure (with emphasis on the horse veriety), guano, and fowl droppings from a variety of species”…all in a figurative sense, of course (witty folks, those Martians). You could even shorten it to, “…a load of zoo doo” which is much softer and gentler on the ear (Ol’ Soft and Gentle Ran, they call him) and takes less time to express. My apologies to the Martians in the crowd; I’ll be working on improving my spelling.  

Boy! Did I ever encounter it, too! It, in turn, not only encountered me, it attacked me! To make a long story longer, the attacker was none other than poison ivy…in my garden box…the one that I personally planted…without ivy…poison or otherwise. Arrrrrgh!! I don’t have time for this!

How it got there is a mystery so far but I’ll ponder the matter while my red leprosy fades into a distant past. Most likely it migrated from the compost pile and flourished with the okra. Fortunately, the itching wasn’t all that bad this time. The previous infection was about 50 years ago but I remember "swimming in an ocean of Calamine Lotion" because of the severe itching (that’ll teach me not to go swimming in Tule River in the canyon above Coffee Camp, right? NOPE!). I was concerned this time about being mistaken as Groucho’s brother, Scratcho Marx.

I have it from an extremely knowledgeable source that the fading can be in only a few days if you apply an ancient Native American remedy made from the leaves of a manzanita bush. We have one here at the ranch according to Connie the Canner. Ol’ Pharma Ran will give a report when he can.

Computer Dude Update: as usual, the “Grand Exhausted ‘Puter Poobah” has managed to be blessed at all times and even when it seems they are bad times. There was a really great blessing that came our way recently. In fact, three really neat blessings (haven I mentioned that I’m really really into neat blessings?) came within a short time!

The first was from a long-time friend of Connie’s who lives down by the lake. Apparently, the folks where she works are replacing some desktops and laptops and other peripheral equipment (like a beautiful expensive wireless keyboard and mouse combo and a couple of Sony flat screen monitors!) but were just going to throw the old equipment out as e-waste. She asked if she could have it and they advised that she could. So, she gave it all to me! Zowie!!

I immediately overhauled one of the laptops and gave it back to the nice lady since she and her son needed one. The second laptop got overhauled and I gave it to my mother who, though 88 years old, is interested in “staying in touch”. My guess is that she wants it for the games, too (heheh).

Next, I overhauled one of the late-model desktops and will sell it for about 150 bucks or so. The other nice desktop needs a capacitor replaced on the motherboard but should be fine after that. I’ll do that on my…day off (uh-huh). Both desktops have nice dual-core processors and plenty of memory for Windows 7, 8, or even 10.

A second blessing came when two clients donated their inoperable desktops to me. One had a dead motherboard and the other a crashed hard drive. The one with the crashed hard drive had a superb high-performance quad-core processor so I jerked it out of the case and installed it in the other guy’s custom case. Perfect fit! I sold that little hottie to a previous client for 200 dollars.

The third blessing was from the guy from whom I purchased all of my ham radio equipment. His uncle was a friend of mine who had owned a hangar a few doors down from ours. I bought the entire station with the exception of some things that he intended to keep. Well, he decided not to keep them.

He called me and asked if I could come and pick up some stuff. Boy howdy! Was I surprised! Sitting there all nice and handsome was a like-new Icom IC-730 transceiver with its power supply! Next to it was a gorgeous like-new Drake MN-2000 antenna tuner (worth about 500 bucks!). Then, there was a like-new 23” all-in-one HP Pavilion 23 desktop! I’ve wanted one those babies for awhile but wasn’t about to spend any money for it. It may end up in my ham shack! Next, there was yet another desktop which was a newer HP with a dual-core processor and an abundant 6GB of RAM!

That brings us to the box of goodies that was tossed into the mix. It included a like-new expensive d-Link dual-band router and all kinds of other peripheral equipment. When I asked him how much “color” I needed to toss at him, he said, “Nothing. I just wanted to give it to you” and went on to explain how it made him feel good to bless others! Amen to that! Get this; the worth of the equipment he gave was beyond the value of the price I paid him for the other ham gear (from some months ago)!!  It’s a good thing he didn’t mind getting his neck hugged! We went straight home where I dug into the goodies with alacrity (after exchanging my old Huggie for a new one, natch)! 

OK…we’ve covered the “Blesso” and the “Scratcho”. It’s time for the “Crasho” part. Wanna know what happens when you use a computer? They break (trust me; I’m a professional). Oh, by the way: they break at the most inconvenient and least opportune time, too. Sure, some of you (even some of you Martians) have been lucky and had your box pick a special time to fall apart so it wouldn’t be an inconvenience. Not this time for the Computer Dude.

I was cruising along as usual getting things done when I had this ugly warning sign pop up. It advised that Windows had detected an impending hard drive failure. My first thought was, “Oh, that’s nice!”. I’ve got a ton of things to do near the end of the month and I’m going to have to re-build ‘Big Bertha’... again!”

Actually, the rebuilding part is the fun part. I do that for recreational purposes. However, the thought of losing an immense (I think a dump truck load qualifies for “immense”) amount of data (1 TB), pics (110 GB), music (100K+ songs), et. al. (misc. bunches of GB’s) could have been daunting. The good news was that I had already made a partial backup not long ago. I learned this lesson 7 or so years ago when my main rig went down hard and it cost me about 1,800 dollars to have the data retrieved. Lesson learned. I keep about 12 TB of storage around since I believe in not only backup but overkill backup.

So, I commenced a full back up knowing, that, after the notification, a hard drive failure could present itself in an hour, a day, a month, or even a year. After about four days of backing stuff up on a couple of healthy large external drives, I was confident that, should the drive fail suddenly, I would get to tinker with it. Off to bed I went. The next morning, I turned the monitor on (I leave my big rig running all of the time unless a reboot or service is required) only to find that the crash had happened that night. 

The great part about this was that I got to repair my XP installation! The box is configured to boot to either XP or Windows 10. However, the XP install had thrown out some default settings and was no longer automatically installing the normal drivers for the mouse and keyboard (which means you have zero access to the otherwise fully-functioning system). But, I  fouind no need to risk jacking up Windows 10 by trying to do a boot repair on XP. I think there would be little if any trouble at all but there was just too much on the line to experiment. And, it wasn't my day off. 

The XP repair was made then a 2TB internal hard drive was mounted.  Win 10 was installed (which automatically configures the dual-boot environment) and then the software customization process was advanced. All things are good go for now and any software needed will be installed on “as needed”. Big Bertha is now cruising right along smooth as silk. 

And, I get to run XP on a hot dual-core box with max RAM. For you tech heads (and you Martians, of course), XP can only “see” and use a little more than 3 GB of RAM. So, the other 5 GB of RAM are there but aren’t used until the reboot to Win 10. The XP install is as slick as they get and, because its lightly loaded, it’s almost like magic to use! I can’t wait to get an Internet service where the speed is at least 50mbs (my ISP just upgraded to 2.5mbs nominal). My mother in Porterville will have Internet service 20 times faster than mine! ACK! Maybe I need to visit her more often, eh?

Tech side note: XP was designed to run on (at a minimum) a Pentium II 233ghz processor and 64MB of RAM. Since XP was released about three years after the Pent. II, it was under development at the time using the Pent. II. To this day, one of the cleanest and fastest machines I’ve ever operated was an XP box with 256MB of RAM and a 750ghz Pent. III processor (lightly loaded, of course). It was a real blitz bug!

I still have access to all of the super nice software that was on there before the crash. But, times, needs, and attitudes change. All that needs to be done can be done for now. It's nice to have my old friend, XP, up and running. It's something of a comfort factor for me. The old "Puter Dude" is a bit strange...but then...you knew that. 

Chickening Report: Our chickens are on strike or something. They aren’t laying but about a fourth of their usual number of eggs. Some are molting which we found may account for some of the reduction. Not all of them are molting so I figure it must be a sympathetic molting issue, eh? I haven’t run into a “Caesar Chavez Chicken Union” yet. So, no worries there.

I don’t know. I do know that we need the regular production since our egg clients are used to getting their eggs in a timely fashion. It wouldn’t take much of an imagination to see my front yard filled with the same nice folks that covered Dr. Frankenstein’s yard outside his castle. But, they would be demanding eggs (yes….they are that good!)! 

I take really good care of them and feed them well. I speak kindly to them and encourage them to keep up the good work. Maybe I should take my guitar out there and serenade them to see if that would work. How about I hum them a hymn?  I think I’m being silly.

The Princess Abby Report: you know, you just can’t help but love a dog that’s sweeter than a bucket of cupcakes. She thinks I hung the moon and I’m not about to convince her otherwise.

I’m working on setting up the other transmitter for her electric shock collar/electric fence so we can extend her range further north but not further east. That will allow her to protect our garden boxes that the ground squirrels are digging (literally) and feasting on and our chicken coop as well. We lost one of our feral chickens the other day but Abbie’s range was limited (she’s into live chicken toys). So, she wasn’t able to apprehend the offending critter.

She still wins all of the tug-o-wars and is still lightning-fast at “fetch”. And, she still has a penchant for barking at night…late at night…most of the night. Ugh. I really do understand. We do have lots of “wild things” out there which a good coon hound like her would dearly love to chase to Texas (which, of course, is the reason she wears a shock collar).

It’s also noteworthy that she fears nothing…as in N-O-T-H-I-N-G…which is also a problem. She’s a “coon hound” not a “coon fighter”. As powerful as the little girl dog is, I am not at all comfortable turning her loose in a one-on-one with a big bandit. When coons are cornered, they don’t back down; they fight and fight hard. So, the Ol’ Rancher will to protect his pretty princess and continue to spoil her until she just can’t stand it (which should be in about 30 years or so. She is such a sponge).

Well…that about takes care of all but the Melto event. I hope that all of the sheisenbogger (sp) that has been happening will be concluded in this one month and not follow me into October, December, or into town. If it does, it needs to bring a smaller dump truck, too.

Now, the "headlines": when we came home from church the other night, I had to make a quick run to the barn. Now, imagine just how high my interest was piqued when the lights didn’t come on. OK…no worries. My technical expertise is quite high in the category of “flipping a breaker switch” (I got good marks in that, don’tcha know). When the breaker box was opened, it wasn’t a pretty sight. I switched the lights on but, uh-oh, two other breakers were off! That’s wasn’t a good thing because we have a freezer in the barn (you don’t eat all your food if you have to walk over there to get it, eh?).  

Fill in the details part: the light in the chicken coop had been off for a couple of weeks and I hadn’t had time to fix it (still waiting for a day off so I can get some of these things done!). I reckoned that the other breaker was for the coop and the other breaker was, indeed, for the coop. But…just what was the other breaker for? Uh-oh! Rancho Ran knew he was about to have an...interesting...evening.

Did you ever have one of those “Chinese Chant Revelation” moments? That’s where you whack your forehead and say, “O-wha-tay-foo-li-yam”. I had smelled something “dead” for several days but had thought it to be from someplace else; silly me. The revvy hit me like a ton of individually hand-fired Texas bricks; the other circuit breaker was for the freezer! It had been off for …gulp…two weeks! That’s just enough time for everything (as in …everything) to simply melt then dissolve into bags of wet rotting messes. 

That late at night, and my propensity to not deal with huge masses of rotting stuff (day or night) led the same quick mind to come to the rescue. I simply reset the breakers and will wait for everything to get rock hard then haul it all to the dump: no smell, no mess. 

Freezer clean up time will soon be another ranch chore. But, we need the freezer and I don’t dare leave too much food in the house where some hungry rancher would eat it! HEHEH.

So, there you have it, friends, relatives, neighbors, kith, kin, and Martians. The latest from Rancho Relaxo and Rancho Randy and his sidecook, Connie the Canner. Stay tuned 'cause things could get...interesting'er. 

Rancho Agosto Surprizo (for the Septembre Blog)

The ol' ranch hand and his side-cook broke out of the daily routine and headed for a nearby oasis. Since Porterville isn't a "real town" yet (at 60K+ population we're working on it, though), we headed the hoopie over yonder to Tulare (they had sense enough to park their burg next to Highway 99 and became a real town). When there, we took in a movie and a dinner (somehow similar to taking in a dinner and a movie but not quite as traditional...which we seem not to be anyway).  The movie was "Star Trek" which was viewed with much appreciation but not without a critique. I mean, hey....you can't fool someone who was there in '66 and has seen all of the Star Trek episodes more than once. The dinner was compliments of an IHOP (which I think is an anagram for "I Hate Old People") gift card which, of course, makes the meal much more savory. All-in-all, it was a nice outing for the old folks who promptly went home and went back to work chasing chickens. 

It never ceases to amaze me how faithful and diligent my huntin' guard dog is! Just look at this fine specimen doing a "hard guard"! It isn't below her dignity (she is a princess, after all) to guard my mop and has purposed to even sleep by it lest it be molested by the Gypsies or a marauding rooster. 
If you were wondering if that's "Wooly Pully" in the back, it surely is. She's high-sided with the 48" rails instead of the 24" ones. She's a handy gadget to have around.

This juicy cantaloupe is a "volunteer" that was planted when I spread the new compost in garden box #3. It's hiding in the shade of my okra plants! There is a sibling a couple of feet to the right of it but it's slightly smaller. 

To the right is Miss Peep. She and the other pullets are slowly being assimilated into the general population without a lot of thuggery with a notable exception (next pic).  

This is Sweety, grandson Cade's pullet who he helped nurse to health after it was stressed from being bullied. Unfortunately, she was severely injured this second time and is unable to stand. It was rather unexpected because there haven't been any serious issues at all since we put them in the general population.  She's back in granny's kitchen (which is interesting since my maternal grandmother is "Granny Kitchen"). Connie's kitchen serves many purposes. Sometimes we even get to cook our food there! 

 This is the new roundabout at the intersection of Highway 190 and Reservation Road. We're headed west. This thing couldn't be more hated by the locals but the government (as it always does) shoved it down our throats. Then next thing we know, they'll erect a statue of Jerry "Moonbeam" Brown in the middle of it. 

  For all of the ex-Valley folks, this is a shot of downtown Terra Bella. They just demolished the main buildings. This was taken southbound on old 65 and looking southeast and approaching Ave 94.

This is just as you turn left around the corner from old 65 onto eastbound Ave 94 (toward the "Hoot and Holler"). Looking northeast. The buildings had gone without use for decades so someone (Tulare County?) made way for progress. I mean....we really do need another Mexican restaurant (there's one right across the street just to the right in this picture). 

 This is Randall, the grandson who has found that food is his friend and that it makes you grow. The "six footer" is being hugged by his father's maternal grandmother (making her his great-grandmother), Wilma (nee Webber) (Carter) Wright (and I may have changed history here as there may have been some "updates" of which I am unaware. Sorry it that's the case). She has lived in Exeter since '66  and this picture is taken at her home there.

To the right is Randall again but this time he is with his paternal great-grandmother, Geraldine (nee Kitchen) (Minnick) Black. We had just overhauled the steam tables at the "New China" buffet in Hooterville and had about enough energy left over to smile and a picture but that's about all. Naps are our friends. He is 17 and she is 88 and can still drive!

Well! Jump down, turn around, and pick a bail of cotton! It's September! My believer is still in unbelief over how fast the time is steamrolling by at warp speed! 

When we realized that we were already in the middle of August, Connie and I looked at each other and both were thinking, "Christmas is right around the corner!! That, of course, had us shifting into gears that were higher in number than those we thought we already had on the console.

The really good news is that we are not having a brutal San Joaquin Valley body-blistering-bake-your-biscuits-on-the-hood-of-your-Chevy summer (don't try this at home. It takes too long to scrape the dough off if you screw up and not wait until the temperature is at least 110 degrees).  

It hasn't exactly been a "non-summer" summer. That would be comparing our summers to our winters which are almost "non-winters" since you can't really tell when they start or end. For the previous decade or more, the Ol' Rancher hardly needed a jacket during winter (though he did notice that the ladies usually are bit more prone to temperature variations given that they usually have only a two degree [76-78 deg] temperature tolerance and comfort zone). I think I wore my real jacket only twice and once was for a dress up occasion (I was wearing my Tony Lamas, don'tcha know). The other time was just to wear it to the car in case I needed it later in the day (I didn't because it never got below about 50 deg.).  Anyway, no one is complaining about the heat so far and it's nice to not have to turn the mister on to cool the cluckers.

Speaking of chickens, it's time for the chickening report. Here's the update on Phil, the bantam rooster: it took a bit of "Googling" but we now think that he is a bantam white Leghorn. I had first thought that he may be a "Japanese Phoenix" but he He doesn't quit fit the profile. On the other hand, he does have a solid match for the "Leghorn".

The little strutter hasn't lost an ounce of pride for the matter. He still thinks he's a gallon's worth of feathers ruling over quarts of hens. The hens don't seem to have the same opinion and ignore him much like he was a younger stupid brother. But, Phil is a slow learner and doesn't get the message at all and continues to thrust his beak into their business (I know people like that!). He still tends to loudly crow over his non-accomplishments (I know people like that, too!). 

Our young Aurucanas are nearing the time when they will begin earning their pullet pellets. The little gobblers have turned into big greedy gobblers. They need to start contributing a bunch of huevos to the program to offset the mountain of chow they consume each day.

The rest of the hens at Cluck Central Station are holding out for more scratch, the best I can tell. Their egg production is off by quite a bit. It could be the heat but it hasn't really been all that hot around these parts. On some days, they'll lay a lot but on others, they'll lay far fewer. It's like they are sending a message: "You want more eggs? More scratch, pal". So, more than likely, I'm dealing with a chicken strike of some kind. I'm trying to get the point across to them that I hold all of the high cards and that, if I am of a mind, they will be feeding me instead of me feeding them. They're pretty slow, though. Negotiations with the "Big Bad Biddy Committee" are ongoing (I hope that there are no Rusty Warren fans paying attention to this...that wouldn't be you, eh Jerry?).

It must be "surprise season" around here! First, Connie had a cool surprise in the last blog. Now, son, Jeff, called on a Friday and asked what we would be doing in a couple of days. That sounded like the proverbial "loaded question" to me (and it was)! I just advised that we would be holding down the ranch and headed to church on Sunday. He said that they would be departing Abilene after work on Saturday and that he and the fam would be here in 24 hours or so (driving straight through)! I told him we would be ready and waiting with toes on our bells and to drive safely (given the number of fools on the respective Interstates). They arrived in California on Sunday, stopped first in Visalia to visit other family, then were here at the ranch late that afternoon.

Let me tell you, neighbor; when they arrived, it was huggies all around, to be sure! We hadn't seen any of them since our last trip back there a couple of years ago. We stowed their gear and settled in for a time of catching up and such.

Do you know what happens when you don't see teenagers for awhile? They grow up! And up is where grandson, Randall, directed his energy! He's over the six foot mark now! Despite my warning them of the hazards of feeding children, his parents continued to allow him access to the feed bag. He's now as tall as his daddy and he's only 17!

Let me crow about our grandson (hey...I raise chickens and they taught me how to properly crow!). At the age of 16, he graduated from high school and is now preparing for a business career! The real kicker is that the business will be in merry old England! He's waiting until he's 18 (a wise conclusion strongly suggested by his wise parents) then further investigating the matter.

He keeps his noodle sharp by being involved with regional "Yu-Gi-Oh" championships in places like (gulp!) Philadelphia! If I understand correctly (I'm slower than the average jar of Safeway molasses, if you recall correctly), as the plenipotentiary of the game, the local boys just move out of the way when they see him coming! It also seems that that he has the same mastery of  "Pokemon" and gives the other competitors a run for their iPad (on the which all eyes are focused, nyuk nyuk).

 He and his dad tried to school us on how all of that stuff works. But, I'm still trying to wrap at least a couple of  brain cells around the entire matter and am rather foggy on most of this modern stuff. Reckon I'll figure it out someday but for now, I'm still trying to outsmart my "dumb phone".  So, if Ol' Ran, the cornball Luddite (sorta has of a ring to it, eh?) sounds like a blithering dummy about these modern fandongles while trying to elaborate, it's because he is one (proving that he's not just any dummy but a very special kind of dummy).

Jeff is the general manager of all concessions and food for the "Taylor County Expo Center" in Abilene (conveniently located across the street from their regional airport). His degree in food service and his decades of top-to-bottom experience in the industry are serving him well. He knows the business like the Pope knows Communion.

During his time in the USAF, he was communications/avionics/radar tech for the North American Rockwell B1B bomber. This allowed him to pick up another degree in avionics on the which may focus on at another time (ok, ok...I may be crowing a bit louder than Kenny Leghorn, the rooster, but I can't help it).  

Talk about a cool job! How many careers can you think of that allow you to see all of the neat events ranging from rodeos to rock concerts?! Not only do you not have to buy a ticket, you get paid for it!! Whoo hooo!

While the ol' rooster is being so noisy..... his wife, Sandra, is a top-tier commercial marketer and professional graphic artist. At the moment, she is taking some time off (from "regular" employment) to assist her mother through some difficult medical issues. The entire matter is on our prayer list, to be sure.

It hasn't hindered her from embarking on a new business, though! She has just launched "My Boyfriend's Briefs" line of women's briefettes! Take a look on YouTube at what she's done so far. Keep in mind, she has done almost all of the production work on this by herself!

>>>> My Boyfriend's Briefs

She has also helped us with the "Minnick Ministries" website too (slowly developing due to Bro. Ran being too busy to finish up)! To say that we're proud of the Texas Minnicks is an understatement! In fact, to say that she is one of the sharpest tacks in the tool box is a huge understatement! 

And, it's pretty easy to see where their son, Randall, gets his talent, eh? I haven't found a single Ginzu knife as sharp as he is!

It is a good thing that most Minnicks have the ability to stay up late when necessary (good genes, eh?). That was required because we gabbed until exhaustion bore down on the weary travelers. It was only midnight here at the oasis but the Texas time was 2 AM! All the camels went to bed.

They all got to see friends and family for a couple of days. It was especially nice since Jeff hadn't seen a couple of his siblings in ten years! What was truly special is that he got to see both of his grandmothers. Given their advanced age, it may be the last time to do so. It was also a special opportunity for Randall as well. He got to see both great-grandmothers! He's old enough now to remember this as a really special moment. Both grannies were tickled to get to see their youngin's again!

Wednesday morning was their departure time. Thankfully, and with the exception of Jeff, we all got a reasonable night's rest. Jeff was on call the entire time away. However, his employees kept forgetting that he was in a different time zone. So, when they called, it was rather early here. Ugh.

We all (you know: we all, you all, all you all) congregated at the table for breakfast on their first morning here. Connie piled a heap of helpings on the table and the fork fling-fest commenced to start (etiquette lessons provided by my ol' pal, Jethro Bodine). There's nothing quite like home-made breakfast cassarole and good hot coffee to feed a starving soul.

The morning that they departed, we fired up the BBQ grill (which had been forlorn and forsaken long enough for it to be a crime in California) and had steak and eggs for breakfast.

Of course, our Rancho Eggs performed well (as they always do) and were a savory standout (sounds like more crowing to me). You a should have seen us tuck into our huge repast until we were full (and could hardly walk)! La comida más sobrosa!!

All too soon, their baggage was boarded and Randall stowed his big Breville "Roma" espresso maker that granddad gave him (he loves espresso coffee...wonder where he gets that from?). It was mucho huggies time and then, "Adios!" What a wonderful and unforgettable time!

But, I did forget one thing; I have at least seven digital cameras. Do you think that I would remember to take pictures? Not today. I'm looking for someone to loan me their favorite large stick with which I may beat myself until I'm black and blue. *SIGH*. I don't mind so much getting old. I do mind very much getting old and stupid.  Moving along......

The next surprise was for Connie's birthday. She wasn't expecting the "Rachel Ray" cookware set that mysteriously showed up for her birthday (Amazon is our friend). Her theme for the ranch is always in blue and blue gingham so the new cookware was a theme-conforming medium blue. We put it to work straightaway the next morning with a nice huge breakfast of eggs, hash-browns, bacon, SPAM (for me since Connie doesn't eat mystery meat whose ingredients include all parts of the pig nearest [and which may even include parts of] the oink), and toast. The Ol' Rancher washed his down with a fresh hot cup of java. 

The Rancho report: the Ol' (dim LED) Rancher just had "Porterville Ag-Home" overhaul and service his faithful trusty (and dusty) Craftsman GT5000 lawn tractor. It now has new belts and blades (three of them!!) so my 54" cut will look nice. They stuck in new oil and a filter and tuned up the 26 hp Kohler motor. She purrs like mountain lion with a kid goat on its breath. The folks at PAH are tops and we highly recommended them.

For quite awhile, the little noise maker has been experiencing flat tires on the front. One side had a slow leak and the other had a fast leak and neither could be cured using "Slime" or "Fix-a-Flat" (which, after using, you have to fix a mess). You just can't mow the lawn with flat tires (though Connie was most encouraging by advising that they were only flat on one side). Just for the record, flat tires are not my friends.  

After "Googling" to find replacements, the ranch hands were flambooberated to find that the dinky 16x6.5-8 tires were as expensive as car tires and that it would cost around 160 dollars for just two of them! The only thing a good yard sale'er can do in such a case is find an option (options are  our friends). 

After digging around awhile, the tractor dude decided to just stick a couple of tubes in the bloody things and be done with it. So, a local "Les Schwab" tire store had the exact tubes for 11.50 each. We tossed the tractor onto the trailer (it's easier than it sounds because Wooly Pulley is a tilt trailer), hauled it to town, went in, and purchased the tubes. And, they mounted them for free!  Not only that, I snacked on their free popcorn 'till I was almost bloated (free x two is definitely our friend)!!!  We were back down the lane at total expenditure of less than 25 bucks! No more flats!

It may surprise some folks that 26 hp is only 4 hp less than a Ford 8N tractor which has a Model A Ford engine!! The difference is in the way the power is delivered to the ground. Traction makes all the difference. That's why I'm going to be mounting real tractor tread tires and hub weights on my little labor-saving rider so that it can get a grip on the ground. After all, what's a tractor that can't tract? The hub weights (the exact ones for my GT5000!!) were a donation from a friend who wondered if I knew anyone that wanted them! Have I mentioned that "FREE" is my friend?!

There are a couple of handy implements on hand (picked up at yard sales, natch) that it can tow, too. One is a nice small tilt-trailer with an end dump. It can handle two 60lb -75lb 30 gallon trash barrels at a time. That makes coop cleaning a bit easier since all clean-up materials are bound for the compost pile out yonder north of the pole barn.

The other is a small harrow for breaking up clods. We don't have but few clods here since it usually requires moisture to make the ground soft enough to plow. D-8 and D-9 Caterpillars  pulling rippers can make large clods without having water involved but, sadly, I don't have either of those big beauties. Our ground is hard enough to challenge a new jackhammer so we end up with clod-less ground because of cloudless skies. I'll be hunting around for a "real" tractor so I can bust some sod around here and have more options for planting stuff.

To say that Rancho Ran likes to remain comfortable while working may be yet another understatement. A lot of the morning's routine is accomplished while he is clad in his bed-pants, a T-shirt and sandals. Now....don't be tempted to think "hippy" as Ol' Ran is far too "L-7" to go down that road. But, he has learned to be comfortable if at all possible at this stage of life. So, if you see a middle-aged, over-weight, white boy hauling chicken feed around and looking like he's comfortable, he is. It surely will be me. Around here, it's just called "ranch dressing" (ok....ok...I won't quite my day job). 

In this part of the country (especially in rural areas where Rancho Relaxo abides) we have a rather intimidating arachnid to which we need to pay attention. That would be the "black widow" spider. Though notorious, they pretty much leave you alone if you do the same to them. Still, they can make the temperature of your blood drop a few degrees if you unexpectedly encounter one.

So far, their population has been held in check (we're not sure why yet though we do have four fierce free-ranging fowls guarding the place). Since we have several other spider species that have taken up residence around here (rather large ones, I might say), we've developed a way to determine which large spider web is which and thereby stay safe. First, you kick the web. If you damage the web, its occupant is probably the "Black and Yellow or Banded Garden Spider" or the "Spotted Orb Weaver". Next, if you kick the web and your foot rebounds but it keeps your sandal, you run! It isn't all that scientific but, hey, it works.

Well, neighbors, that's the latest from "Rancho Relaxo" and its fearless, fretless, feather-loving, farmers, Rancho Ran and his side-cook, Connie the Canner. Don't touch that device with all the buttons on it because things could get....interesting. 

Rancho Augusto

I truly don't mean to complain. But.....HOLY MOLY! If this keeps up, we may not have to use the dehydrators! 

Yes! We have lots of 'maters. We have lots of 'maters today! In fact, we have lots of okra, too! Okra and 'maters are our friends!

Abbie is a "coon hound". However, in the absence of a few coons, she just pays attention to the dove that is nesting in the flower planter over her head. Lovie Dovie hijacks one of Connie's planters three or four times per spring and hatches out her pair of cute baby doves. 

 These are the last of Lovie Dovie's brood. Look at the magnificent camouflage! You have to look closely even when it's from only two feet away! 

Here's the original! They're almost invisible!

You, of course, have heard about "cool cats". But, you probably haven't heard about a "cool chick". This is Maddie, the very intelligent araucana hen. She's parked under the mister that was added to the run. She's sopped and lovin' it! Who woulda thunk? Last evening, there were six other hens keeping cool with her. 

Well....it's August.....already! Doesn't that just make you want to buy a Mercury and cruise it up and down the road?! I'm not through with July's work yet, for corn flakes! Oh, well. I'll just have to take a day off so I can get some work done around here.

All is well here at Rancho Relaxo. However, recently, the Ol' Rancher wasn't well at all for about a week. For the first time in about eleven or so years, I found myself experiencing all of the uncomfortable symptoms of the stomach flu. I'll spare you the gory details and let Google help you in case you have yet to be informed about it. Let's just say that it wasn't a pretty sight.  Whatever that thing was took the knot plumb out of my clove-hitch. It left me too weak to wrestle a marshmallow out of a cup of hot chocolate.

Connie was able to keep me alive through the ordeal and made sure that  I drank a ton of "Powerade" and fruit juices (given that I had no appetite). Otherwise, my electrolytes would have been out of whack and I would have been dehydrated due to a massive loss of fluid. I think I used up a month's worth of flushing in one week! I'd have been a real mess and would likely have ended up in the hospital (a place for which I have no particular fondness).

She really was the hero of the hour and still managed to maintain her sense of humor in an attempt to keep me cheered. She then courageously carried the ball for the entire ranch for an entire week. My hat is off to her (plus she got my dirty laundry too!).

Just for the record, I'm swearing off getting sick. It was one way to get out of having to be a farm dude for awhile. But, it is a waste of my time, saps my energy, and makes me feel yukkie.  I'd rather suck snot out of a dead man than do that again.

Speaking of Connie the Canner, she has been just as busy with me back in the saddle as when I was out of it. It has been almost non-stop canning around here. If not canning, then she is dehydrating veggies and fruit. I saw a lot of apples and tomatoes being sliced and dried. She has even been canning hamburger! Yep! We are almost out of room in the freezer so she looked it up on the Internet and found out how to do it. It works great! I hadn't thought about it until then! And, between our own nectarines and folks giving us other peaches, she canned several quarts for the winter. Peachy keen, eh (I know. I know)?

If that doesn't inflate your Kumhos, we just bartered for a gorgeous like-new 5 tray dehydrator recently.  One of our clients needed their laptop straightened up so the Computer Dude fixed it. In trade, we ended up with an "American Harvest" multi-temp dehydrator for our supply of "tools". It was exactly like a couple of those that we already have. All the trays are the same which gives us some options when we dehydrate stuff. Just prior to getting it, I had to replace the thermistor in one of the other ones. The part was quite inexpensive and it only took a few minutes to solder it in place. So, don't toss our your dehydrator just because it stops running. You can get it back in service for about 50 cents, a thirty watt soldering iron, and a few minutes of time.

Edible Acres Harvest Report: we've got goodies! The okra is thriving and we've already started giving some away to those good folks who love a mess of that wonderful fried stuff. Since okra is one of those "forever plants"  that just keeps on giving, we'll probably still be giving some away at Christmas! And, that's after we can a bunch of it! That is an amazing vegetable! It grows so fast that you have to harvest it almost every single day! That means I'll be looking forward to a big batch of gumbo soon, too! I've got some shrimp in the freezer waiting to be tossed into the mix! Hooo! Doggies! My, but that's good eatin'! 

Coon Dog Report: things got "interesting" here the other night at about 9:30 PM or so. Abby, was barking her little doggie brains out on the back patio. Now, she's been known to do such activities but not on the back patio. So, as you can imagine, she had my attention when I turned on the lights and noticed that she had treed my BBQ grill. Since there were only a few inches gap under my grill, my lightning-fast mind knew there wasn't a bear under there (what a relief!). That was a good thing since I hadn't even bothered to grab any armament other than my flashlight. Of course, smaller doesn't necessarily mean less dangerous. Abby (a.k.a. "the Nose") treed a rattlesnake on the front driveway not long ago. That meant that Ol' Ran needed to be mindful of his steps when a huntin' dog is making loud noises.

I started moving the BBQ grill and when I did, a "thing" darted out onto the patio and into the back yard. Fortunately, I was able to out pace the thing, got in front of it, and gave it quick kick backwards thereby arresting its flight to safety. It curled up and lay motionless. In a flash, my flashlight revealed that I had overpowered a small 'possum (a fella is pretty confident when he is 200 times as massive as his opponent). It was now motionless and playing....'possum (but you knew that).

I called for Abby for assistance and she came a-runnin' lickity split (roughly the equivalent of half the speed of sound) and ran right on past and headed to the other side of the yard looking for the thing. So, I called again and again she whizzed right on by looking somewhere else for something. *SIGH* Finally, I called her to me and she noticed the 'possum on the ground. She snatched the thing up in her mouth but, as you can guess, it played dead so Abby tired of that game in about ten seconds. She parked the little critter in the dirt and moseyed off. I could tell that this girl dog was going to need some help getting her huntin' skills sharpened up.  It was left up to me to dispatch the predator that, if allowed to mature, would have had a voracious appetite for ...chicken dinners. So, a few ounces of dead 'possum is worth a few pounds of live chickens.

It must be that time of the year for 'possums since we found another one trapped at the bottom of one of our barrels that we use to contain our coop cleanings. It had fallen in and had starved to death. More chickens saved.

Well, guess what, neighbor? I also found out that "Rancho Relaxo" isn't limited to just one "interesting" event per week. Just a few days later, Princess Abby let out barking and baying for a really long time....late at night, of course. So, Ol' Ran grabbed his trusty tactical flashlight (the one that lights up the entire bloody neighborhood) and trudged out to see what was upsetting my pooch.

Abby was trying to climb one of the tall trees between our house and the neighbor's home. I had heard that "Walker Treeing Coon Hounds" were called "climbers" so I guess I believe them now! When a coon dog trees, don't bother to guess if there's something there; just shine the light upwards and find out what it is! "It" was a big ol' wide-eyed coon! He was up about 20' or so and parked on a limb at the trunk. Abby had finally lived up to her breeding! You may remember that she cornered her first big ol' coon out in the carport a year ago. But, this was the first time she had "treed" (nobody wants a "Walker Cornering Coon Hound", don'tcha know). 

So, a plan of action was needed and there were decisions to make. I can't say that I wasn't tempted to go get "Ol' Bess", the SKS rifle. At that time of night, such a thought only lasted a few seconds. Can you imagine what would happen if you discharged a .30 caliber hunting rifle late at night and only 35 feet from your neighbor's bedroom?! Your good neighbors would become bad neighbors in a heartbeat.

The next thought was to just use the Ruger 10-22 .22 caliber semi-auto rifle. That way, the neighbors would only jump halfway out of their night clothes instead of all of the way (I am soooo thoughtful, eh?). Well....that thought, too, was short lived. That left me with prospect of just letting Abby bay all night long thereby insuring that the neighbors only lost sleep instead of their jammies. That was a prospect with which I could live. Besides, I really didn't need a new coonskin cap. Maybe when the fashion cycle comes back around.

It was my bedtime anyway so I was hoping against hope that Abby would get disinterested after awhile and just go park in her "Abby place" on the back patio. That means that everyone would still get some sleep. That was a real leap of faith because coon dogs don't normally give up on anything. They just don't quit. I seriously figured that the coon would need to make that limb his permanent dwelling place. No part of me believed that Abby would lose interest in a live coon. But, he wasn't there the next morning and Abby wasn't talkin'. Maybe she went to sleep on the job or the coon bought her off (maybe the coon found my stash of doggie treats on the patio....uh-huh). Thankfully, and for whatever reason, Abby appeared to lose interest and that was the end of the matter. Go figure.

News flash: there was third "interesting" event at the ranch a few days later! Abby was doing her nightly patrol and started barking....at midnight (nocturnal critters, don'tcha know). After several minutes of intense barking and at about the time I was going to grab my torch, she went silent. "That'll work" says I to myself. But, that really didn't make sense until.....this terribly familiar ...odor....began wafting its way into the bedroom. Do you know where I'm heading with this narrative? You are correct; it was the only-too-familiar scent of an offended skunk. Only this time, it wasn't like a dead skunk in the middle of the road. It was like an angry skunk in the middle of the bedroom! Uuuuuuuuuuuh! Connie nearly fainted while I nearly gagged. Due to the eye-tearing intensity, we figured that Pepe Le Pew was probably marching across our front porch campaigning for the removal of our guard dog. 

Once again I snatched the uber-light and went out to see if my coon dog was OK and if she needed to be quarantined for awhile (like...maybe for a month and maybe in China). When I called, she came zipping around the corner and was about to (lovingly) fling herself upon my body parts. I wasn't relishing the thought of having to follow Abby into quarantine so I gritted my teeth, stepped back to halt her advance, and held my hand down to grab her collar. So far, so good. After a few moments, there was no swooning and I was still standing upright and without additional body odor. Time to give thanks! 

Wait, folks! There's more! I really wish that I could say that Rancho Relaxo is an uneventful place. But, that would be like believing a politician when they open their mouth. It just isn't so. The other night at about 1:30 AM (waaaay too early in the morning for "interesting" things to occur), I was rudely awakened by a ladies voice saying, "Low voltage! Low voltage!". Though somewhat groggy, it didn't take but a moment to realized what had happened and that "Rosy the Robot" wasn't standing at my bedside (you old people remember the "Jetsons"). I had left one of my walkie squawkie radios on and had left it on the night stand next to the bed (the other radios were charging). When the bias voltage got too low, it automatically advised that the voltage was low so that the dummy user would recharge it or replace the battery. I just turned the thing off until later that morning then stuck on the charger. Note to self: pay attention, Ran. You'll get more sleep that way.

Chickening Report from Cluck Central: I'm still trying to figure out why chickens are so good at turning their chicken coop and chicken run into a pig sty. We rake and clean continually and make sure that they have plenty of fresh water and lots and lots of good food (chicken chow, don'tcha  know). We always speak to them kindly (never curse your chickens, I always say) and we speak in specific terms so they remember that they are chickens and not pigs. We call them using the time tested method: "Here, chick, chick, chick!" and not "Here, pig, pig, pig!". There are even signs hanging on the walls that say as much. Maybe we're asking a bit too much since we're getting nowhere with that method. I'd like to figure out how we end up raising intelligence-free chickens. In the meantime, hand me another rake. 

Having chickens on the brain (and in the coop) means that you have lots of chicken recipes on hand. I think I quit counting at about 300 including the more than 150 cookbooks we have on the shelf). Connie cooked a swell almond crusted chicken the other night. And, we use chicken in soups, sandwiches, and such all of the time (it tastes better when it's on sale, too!). But, I wanted to try something different. After reading about it recently, I want to try "chicken fricassee" pretty soon. It's a simple enough recipe for a simple enough ranch hand. However, it sounds a little "hoity toity" for the likes of a couple of old folks like us. So, we're just going to call it "frickin' chicken" which has more of a country ring to it.

We lost one of our pullets a few days ago. She was noticeably out of sorts for a few days prior so we pulled her out of the cage and put her in the hutch by herself. When there was no improvement after a couple of days, we brought her into the house to try to nurse her back to health. Sadly, she only lasted a day and a half. We're not sure what happened and it isn't likely that we will ever know. So goes life at Rancho Relaxo. We will likely get a few more pullets in the near future anyway. If not, maybe in the spring. 

Thinking that the pullets were mature enough to be introduced to the rest of the coop group, we freed them from their cage. That experiment was a complete failure because the Chickenistas would have none of it. They refused to allow the almost-hens to integrate and immediately began abusing them. One of the pullets was so stressed that she stuck her head behind a sack of scratch and wouldn't budge (and you thought only ostriches did that). The others were holed up behind the door of the first run.

As an aside: the two runs have a door between them because we left the door on the original run. That comes in handy when we want to clean the front run or vice versa. We can herd the birds into one or the other run as needed for cleaning and such.

So, the Ol' Chicken Wrangler snatched them up and put them back in their cage where it's safe. They're doing fine now. I'll try again in a couple of weeks. If we keep feeding them, we're confident that they will grow.

We're also experimenting with a water mister. It consists of a small plastic water line with a few button misters on it. We're hoping it will help keep our hens from croaking in the heat (it was 108 degrees today). It seems to work but not all that well because we have ponding under one of the misters. Plus, there seems to be a bit of a cross breeze that shoves the mist away from the chickens. If I can't get this one dialed in , I have another longer one that may work. We'll see. Anything to keep us from having fried chickens. 

So, there you have it, the latest from Rancho Relaxo. Don't touch that URL; things could get...interesting.