Rancho Cinco Fiestas

This is a courtesy public announcement from Rancho Relaxo. You are most welcomed. 

It’s June! Doesn’t that just make you want to shove a jumbuck into your tuckersack? This year is .3846 percent completed! 

Unseasonal weather has been our lot for the previous few weeks but that is about to change. It’s been very spring-like way until the last week of May. Usually, the third week of May is when we break into the mid-‘90s in this region. That didn’t happen this year so we have been rejoicing with temps in the low and mid ‘80’s for highs and lows of about 55-60 in the mornings. We’ll hit the 100 degree mark on Sunday and that’ll kick off our summer.  

Rancho Report: speaking of tuckersack….it was way past time to build a big ol’ fiesta here at the rancho. How could I know that, during the month of May, Rancho Relaxo would become the “Garden of Eatin”.

It’s been awhile since we tucked some tacos into our taco tote around here. So, we had a huge taco lunch the other day (lots of things happen around here at about that time). We gathered all the goodies and condiments needed, fried and seasoned the hamburger, fried our tortillas (corn and flour), headed to the table, and set to gnashing our way to gastronomical bliss. That was a most satisfying treat and one which will be repeated regularly if this old taco tucker can help it. Fiesta numero uno: in the bag.

Of course, this is California and there is not limit on the number of tacos or other Mexican food you can eat. Sooooooo….a couple of days later, we happened upon a large supply of Anaheim chili peppers (at about 25% of the original price! You should follow us around if want great deals!). Now, just what are a couple of old chicken chasers going to do with a large bag of Anaheim peppers? Anyone who has spent even a short while in California knows where this conversation is heading. What recipe do you suppose calls for big beautiful Anaheim chili peppers? YUP! Chili Rellenos!

Due to our somewhat demanding schedule, the chilis had to wait a few days for us to rescue them from the fridge. When we did…boy howdy! With fiesta numero uno behind us, it was fiesta numero dos time! To quote my old friend, Mr. Worf, “It is a good day to fry”.

Since I had never attempted to prepare homemade chili rellenos, the recipe book had to be cracked. The recipe calls for eggs (of which, amazingly, we just happen to have in abundance), flour, and oil in which to fry the things and was just like I like it: short and sweet; no sweat on this go around. 

Connie the Canner grabbed the big “KitchenAid” mixer and whipped up the egg whites while the Ol’ Ranger mixed up stuff, prepped the chilis by charring then stripping off the skin, and lit up the range (range ...Ranger….heheheh. I crack myself up). Dredge, dip, and fry: repeat; a pretty easy to deal with recipe, if you ask me (have I mentioned that I’m convenience oriented?). In no time, we had a plate full of tasty chili rellenos.

Concurrently, we were finishing up cooking another batch of tacos and tostadas and, this time, added the frijoles refritos (it’s not a fiesta until these mushy babies are on the table).  

As with the previous fiesta, there was more gnashing of teeth and flinging of utensils. It is a certainty that we consumed far too much and were stuffed. That meant only one thing: siesta time! Naps are our friends!

But, wait folks! There’s more! It is written that, “Man does not live by bread alone; he has to have a pot of beans” (the “Book of Third Randy” as I recall). Maybe it was the lingering thought of the tasty refried beans or such: not sure. But, a few days later, it was “bean time” at the rancho. So, out came the smoked ham hocks and the “Power Pressure Cooker” (the big 10 qt one). In a couple of hours, Rancho Relaxo became “Ciudad de Frijole”.

No self-respecting son of an Okie would wade into such a marvelous repast without the equally marvelous side dishes of “fried taters and cornbread” (that would be the southern version and not the Yankee version, don’tcha know). These two side dishes from heaven and a chunk of raw onion were waiting at the table when the beans were ladled up.

It is beyond my ability to formulate words as to just how wonderful this feast was (especially when your mouth is full….and you all know what our mommas said about that). The Ol’ Rancher was in full waddle mode for a spell but it was a small price to pay. It was nothing that a good nap couldn’t cure.

He also had to bear the catastrophic gastric consequences of digesting those big beautiful bowls of musical fruit but it was worth it. Bless his heart, he tries not to pull off such a leguminous feast very often in consideration of dear Connie the Canner (and lest she require him to camp in the barn for a week by himself). She ate a burger and went on about her business leaving the Frijole Dude to deal with the Kentucky windage. Fiesta numero tres completed and two fiestas to go.

It wasn’t long until the utterly gorgeous weather prompted (if not demanded) that we fire up the Ol’ Smokie. We had recently reclaimed the patio for use by humans again (instead of a staging area for home and garden uses and flooded with equipment, tools, varmint poison, yard sale stuff, et. al.). After a lot of hard work, Connie made the place beautiful and it was time to put it and the patio furniture to good use. 

All that was required was to mine the freezer for a chunk of patiently waiting meat. That didn’t take long for this hungry miner to do. In no time, a T-Bone steak and a rack of “Farmer John’s” pork ribs was thawing on the counter.

The ribs came from “Smart and Final” (which is a standard hoot for all the “Spooners” out there). They were (hold on to your big blue bonnet, granny!) 50% off due to the time out date! No reason to eat hamburger when you can do ribs for less, I always say. The steak was a deal, too. It’s just that I don’t recall which deal it was. Deals are our friends!

Ol’ Smokey didn’t let us down. It wasn’t long until we had the gorgeous meat paired with the gorgeous afternoon. And, it didn’t take all that long for the baked potatoes and sides to show up, either. Man! Needless to say, we tore into our feast with all available shovels and pick axes (well…I did. When it comes to food, Connie really isn’t much into being a miner)! The food was so good that I was tempted to just turn the ranch into a new restaurant: “The Steer and Sty”. Sorta has a nice ring to it, eh? Fiesta numero quatro is a done deal.

At the end of each month, our church has big ol’ potluck. This time, one of our ladies is moving out of state and had requested that someone bring cornbread and beans. It didn’t take the bean dude long to volunteer for that gig! Glad to oblige!

I whipped out the “Power Pressure Cooker” again and replicated the previous pot of beans and ham hocks but added some bacon to boot. Connie baked up the luscious cornbread. When you add all of the other main dishes and sides at the potluck, you ended up with a genuine food fest from which no one could possibly walk away hungry. Fiesta numero cinco wrapped up.

Chickenin’ Report (or: Tales of Chicken Wallow Hollow): when you deal with chickens, you just never know. The other day (you remember the one), you know who forgot to keep the coop door open so the chickens could come home to roost. Some of the hens needed to be kept in the coop so they could continue to do their part in the production of eggs and help carry the freight around here. So, when the old ranchers came home from church, things got…interesting.

All was well until Connie the Canner reminded me that I hadn’t locked up the hen house yet. That was at about ten minutes to midnight: *SIGH* number one. That’s not a big deal since I merely have to trot out to the coop to shut and lock the door. Oh, but that would  just be too easy and completely without adventure, now wouldn’t it?  

Guess what greeted ol’ unsuspecting me when I, clad in shorts and no shirt (hey. It’s too warm to bother with such things) sauntered out to conduct my simple chore? There were chickens parked everywhere around the coop. Oh, great. Because the door wasn’t open, all of the other hens had to find a place to wait until we got there. *SIGH* number two.

 That meant that it was “chicken pickin’” time (I just know some of y’all will surely excuse me for that one). The ol’ chicken wrangler had to pluck each bundle of feathers from its makeshift perch and haul them into the coop one by one.

Somewhere in about the middle of this operation, and while getting ready to step across the threshold of the coop, something warm….really warm, and something smooshy….really smooshy, and something runny….really runny plopped onto my right shoulder and started to slide down my back. My lightning-fast mind knew what had happened but it took it another couple of seconds to figure out why it had happened. Looking up, when what before my two non-bloodshot-but-tired eyes should appear but a stupid chicken’s head and its big feathery rear.  Not sure that “Bullseye Ran” has a ring to it. Reckon I'll pay attention next time.

Anyway, the coop has about an 18” extension at the top which sticks out….right above the door. One of our ladies found that to be a place of refuge for the night. Swell.

I’ve been a happy camper; I’ve been an unhappy camper; there’s not much to be said about being a crappy camper. BIG *SIGH* number three.

The Ol’ Rancher truly hates sad notes. But, he can’t get around this one. This is probably the last “Chickening Report” for a goodly while. Two 125 pound Mastiffs slaughtered almost fifty of our chickens today. That included our three roosters and some of the smaller bantams and such. One of them actually tore apart one of our cages (inside the coop) and killed the young birds in there. It was rather a shock to pull into the back yard and see dead chickens all over the place.

Animal Control was called and the officer is coming from Dinuba  (65 miles from here) but is waiting for a vet to put down a horse that was hit by a car. One of the offending dogs was still in the back yard as of about 8:30PM. The other was seen a couple of hours ago trotting off with a bunch of feathers in its mouth.

Frankly, it would have been rather easy to just kill the offenders and I would have been well within the law and my rights to do so. My Ruger .22 rifle was at hand. But, that just didn’t seem to be a reasonable recourse for me. At least not for a bunch of dead chickens that can be replaced. The dogs are someone’s friends and probably their protectors (would you do a face off with a pair of Mastiffs? Not moi!). The rifle was only there to protect my little princess pooch in case they wanted to whip on her.

Thankfully, they didn’t do that. Because the yard birds were out, she was on her cable. Had the big dogs decided to be enemies, she would have had no chance at all of survival because she couldn’t run. That’s the other reason she’s off the cable at night; there are too many critters around here and I want her to have a fighting chance.

We’re going to rest awhile and cease from chicken sitting seeing that we haven’t had a real day off in more than two years. After that, we’ll see where we want to go with the Rancho Relaxo Egg gig. Most likely we’ll start out with a few hens and go from there.

I’m tired, a bit sad, and am running long on the writing. So, it’s a wrap for now.

Rancho Greeno Springo

A local pond that always captures my attention when I'm over there. Clicking on any of the pictures will enlarge them. 

This is looking north on Main from Oak during the "Iris Festival" event. You can see vendors setting up but no people because it's 8:30 AM.

"Duggins Citrus Express" band setting up for the 9:30 AM gig. This is the same location we were in last year. 

The festival sponsors supplied the sound and the stage. We supplied the noise. 









 Well! Bless my heart and all my vital organs! It’s May! Doesn’t that just chase the bats right out of your cave?! Man! April went by with only a little teeny tiny bit of it not having our footprints stomped on it! About the only time it wasn’t being trod on was during a few naps at the ranch (naps are our friends).

Spring has sprung and it’s gorgeous around these parts. Our green is still lingering and we even have a small splash of rain for a day or two to help keep it that way. However, that old summer brown is starting to creep in as usual. Still, the weather is beautiful and mild. Heck….. I may even break out a chunk of steak or a dead chicken and fire up Ol’ Smokie and celebrate a bit with a feast of some kind.

As usual, there’s at least as much do this month as was done around here in the previous month. The way things are working out, I’d guestimate that we’ll have accomplished all tasks by the year 2525 (f man is still alive, don’tcha know).

Rancho Relaxo Report: things are moving along here and, thankfully, with only a few speed bumps with which to contend. Those that do appear seem to be flattened out rather quickly and without any ensuing body rattles. Overcoming hurdles is a part of life; I just wish that I could pick and choose a few of the lower ones.

Tojo, the ranch hauler, is being repaired by our newly-wedded ace mechanic, friend, brother, and neighbor, Rudy Paine. We’re looking forward to getting to know more about our new neighbor, Lettie. We can already tell that she is such a very very special lady! She’s genuine good neighbor material and we welcome her with open arms! Rudy must have read in the Bible that, “It is not good for man to be alone”.

After the fuel pump-fuel line issue is resolved, we’ll address the catalytic converter matter in due season. I’m no expert but I think we can just whack one off of a late-model wreck-mobile and slap it on the picky-up-truck and go from there. That should represent about a 50% savings along the way. With the addition of a new right front tire (and probably the left front and right rear as well given that they are the same age as the other balloons), Tojo should once again be ready to cart stuff to the dump (which, thankfully, is only 1.5 miles from us).

In the meantime, one of our hens has taken up brooding in the passenger side floorboard. After all, it wasn’t being used for anything else, eh? She’s sitting on a dozen eggs and we’re hoping that at least some of them are fertile. There’s no reason to think that our two randy roosters have been lying down on the job so we check regularly and listen for tiny peeps coming from beneath her feathers.

Computer Report: this certainly qualifies for placement in the “interesting” department. As reported in the previous posting, the Computer Dude’s big Dell had two failed hard drives. I’ve since concluded that small 350GB drive (used for booting to another operating system) failed and took down the new drive. In fact, it appears that the overall dynamic took down the motherboard as well. That’s not good news given my adoration of the big beautiful XPS420 and its outstanding performance. After all, she’s running a quad-core CPU and 8 Giggles of Ram with Win 10 as the OS. That’s not mind boggling hardware but it certainly is a race horse and it got a lot of work done. She’ll be missed.

So, what is one to do? Well, one has to have a backup plan in place. Have I mentioned that the Computer Dude is “Joe Backup” and a good Boy Sprout and that “Be Prepared” is still his motto? Ah, yes; there was a backup plan. But, as usual, things got… interesting… in that dynamic, too.

When the ‘puter started presenting signs of failure, Ol’ Dude commenced making a backup to his 2TB external drive. That began well but the drive was failing rapidly (most hard drive failures are not catastrophic) so a full backup wasn’t completed. Yet, a lot of important stuff was safely onboard the 2TB drive. Or……was it? Nope. The big external drive somehow lost its formatting and reverted itself to an “unallocated” storage volume! Nothing could be found on an otherwise healthy drive. Almost 2 terra bytes of important stuff vanished. *SIGH*. That’s three hard drives taken down in no time. Two *SIGHS*. There is some recovery software that I will be using to see if I can salvage at least some of the data. To be sure, there will be a new backup drive onto which the recovered data, if any, will be placed.

There was a computer backup plan too. I’ve had a high performance box that has been rebuilt and was ready to go when the feathers hit the fan. It’s a sweet home run hitter with a quad-core processor and….get this…16 gigs of RAM! But, wait, neighbors! There’s more! It has a muscular video card with 1GB of RAM! Using it is like using a magic wand. Things happen instantaneously when you click on something! Whooo doggies! I can actually get more work done in less time with this big baby! The three inkjet and two laserjet printers are installed as is some of the more important software like Microsoft Office and such. Some older backups are being installed, too. Work is happening!

All the other proprietary software of the other box still has to be installed, of course, and that will take a while. But, it will carry the ball even better than before. I won’t dual boot this time, though. Instead, I will probably just park a large 4TB or even 6TB storage volume in it.  If I’m in the mood, I may just mount both since it has room for it in the chassis and two SATA controllers are avaiable. Seems a computer dude can’t have too much storage space.

Believe it or not, the little XP box came in quite handy, too. It was also hooked into the big monitor so all that needed to be done was switch inputs and it had access. It was used as much as the backup HP 23 all-in-one to get things done until now.

It was difficult to believe it was an XP machine given the performance. But, you just know that my XP box isn’t stock, eh? It boasts 2GB of RAM which is a lot for XP (which was designed to run on 64MB of RAM and with at least a 333mhz Pent II processor). However, the real punch came from the non-stock high performance video card.  It was so fast that most of the time I thought I was using a Win 7 or Win 10 box! That’s with a single core 1.8 mhz Pent 4 processor and 2 gigs of RAM!

We don’t have blisteringly fast Internet way out here in Dirty Coat Junction (the founders were really disappointed when they found out that there was already a Petticoat Junction). But, even with the 3-5 mbps speeds, the little box was a real trooper.

As a side note, as recently as three years ago, I was still working on computers that had dial-up Internet access! Our little corner of the world lags a decade or so behind the other real places. I’m surprised that we aren’t still using smoke signals, drums, and cans and strings.

Garden Update: the Ol’ Rancher used the Ranch Rino to (finally) drag the compost pile up to the garden boxes (drag scrapers are our friends). That only took three years. That was easy enough since he didn’t have to use a wheelbarrow. Once the good ground was hauled into place, the shovel work commenced.

This is the part where Maynard G. Krebbs and I agree: “WORK!” is not meant for humans to endure (at least not the back breaking sweat wrenching variety). Alas, no one could be found to rescue me from the dreaded shovel handle; the imminent strenuous use of muscles (most of which have long since retired) had pounced upon the frangible frail farmer (any tears yet, y’all?). Therefore, with shovel in hand, Ol’ Ran started heaving soil and replenishing two of his garden boxes (though, on different days, natch). That’s two down and two to go…..or two to wait until next spring. We’ll see. We’re already late getting started so we could be harvesting tomatoes in December. Who knows.

The key word is “replenished”. What it means is that the top 6” or so of soil needed to be replaced. It wasn’t like a ton of compost needed to be added to each box. That wouldn’t happen unless yours truly was the supervisor of a crew of several men or he was in the saddle of some dirt-hauling equipment (front loaders are also our friends).

Since the entire compost pile was hauled up, it had to be re-started lest I wanted to start another heap o’ decay next to the chicken coop. The temptation was there to do just that because it would have saved a lot of “WORK!” But, that, dearies, isn’t about to happen on Connie the Canner’s watch.

So, three barrels of composting material (that would be the really heavy ones) from the coop were hauled by dolly down to the original site at the far end of the property. Then, the small residue from the previous pile and some other nearby dirt was mixed in with the compost. We’ll be overhauling the coop soon (well….that’s the hope) and a lot more compost will be added in. In a couple of years, the pile should be ripe and ready.

Chickenin’ Report: our girls are hangin’ in there with the egg production. Since we started keeping them in the coop until mid-afternoon, they’ve gotten the message that they are to lay their eggs there instead of under every tarp, overhang, bush, behind or in the compost barrels, or in my pickup. Our regular customers are quite happy to see the return of such excellent eggs!

We’ve lost a few birds due to (I should think) normal attrition. Birds get old, birds get sick, birds eat things that attenuate their lifespan, and birds do stupid things and get themselves killed. Since a large supply of eggs is now a normal part of our program around here, it may be that a new batch of pullets will be brought on board as replacements. The dog and pony show must go on, eh?

Depending upon the breed and age of the bird, you can usually get pullets for about 8 bucks a bird. The last batch of laying fowls were a bit older so cost 13 dollars per beak. There were 30 of them. This time, the thought was to bring in maybe 20 pullets. Right now, there are 63 chickens including roosters so that would bring the production level up a bit so that all of our clients can be happy and not left hanging as to when they can get our great eggs.

Another thought was to get pullets but also to get a batch of “straight run” chicks. Those are unsexed and are a bit cheaper. The idea is to have meat birds that we harvest once per year. There would be a few more roosters, too. That’s good since you should have more roosters for our size flock of hens.

As great an idea as that is, it may be put on hold simply because we’re not sure if we can keep up with another project. Besides, you can get whole chickens on sale for about 89 cents per pound. And, though they certainly are processed and are not free range, you only have to wash your hands before eating them and after eating them (have I mentioned that I’m convenience oriented?).

There you have it: another episode of what’s happening at Rancho Relaxo, home of Rancho Ran, the world's foremost authority (the previous one died), Connie the Canner (world's greatest side-cook), where things can get…interesting, and where… you just never know.

Rancho Hectic Heights

 Our girls stage themselves when they know that they are about to be released for "recess". Most have done their duty and earned a nice outing for the remainder of the day.

This little rooster now has a new name. His official name is "Wing Lo" because of the strutting with a low wing position that roosters/fowl assume when courting a hen.

He just hit puberty and has had an awakening that his species just cannot survive without him. I think I was there the day the first ounce of testosterone hit his brain. He must have made a pass at every single hen in the yard! It was like he was on meth or something! There was no slowing this little rocket rooster down at all. His speed doubled after his first score.

                                                                             

This is shot of the newly painted church sanctuary. Lots to do yet like finishing the entrance doors and some cut-in work. Everyone loves the new look. 

There were only four of us that did the work and it turned out really well. There will be much more to do in the future but this is a great start! Even though it looks like we used more than two colors (white and tranquility green), it's really just the two. We painted over the 62 year old mural in the baptistery and hung the small cross in there. It was formerly on the upper wall in front of the baptistery.

The Coop deVille really needed a bath so we took her in for the "Ultra Car Wash". She has just short of 200K miles on her clock and runs like a Swiss watch and...doesn't use oil!

This is a genuine hail of a deal. A big thunder buster blew in and dumped rain and hail all over the place. And, never was heard a discouraging word. Pea-sized hail is not unheard of in these parts.

 Just a nice post-rain shot taken on Highway 190 headed to our place.

This ol' camera slinger loves to take pictures late in the afternoon when the shadow are long. It's just soooo purdy then, don'tcha know. This is taken from my mailbox at the highway and looking (true) northeast. It's actually due magnetic north in case you like such things as magnetic variance.

 Pleasant Oak Drive looking north.

 Pleasant  Oak Drive looking north.

This is the same location. The estate on top is for sale and is listed for 1.6 million. You get a great view and lots of land.

 Looking north as we descend Mustang Drive.

Same pic as above on Pleasant Oak but out of sequence.

Descending Mustang Drive.

Well! Flatten down the hutches, mateys! It’s April! Doesn’t that just make you want to blast off for Ceti Alpha 5 and meet Khan Noonien Singh for lunch?! I’m telling you, neighbors, if time flies by any faster, we’ll feel the breeze!!

Ok! Ok!  Enough whining; on with the blog.

Rancho Report: it’s been rather hectic around here (oh…like…that’s news). Lots of good stuff being done but lots of good stuff not being done or delayed due to rain, computer exigencies, unexpected trips to town, church overhaul, enervating circumstances (seems to be a lot of that), and such (all with litany and all are expedited). Some stuff gets done while other stuff has to wait and gets staged according to priority. Some things crowd in to the head of the priority line and others are bumped rearward. Chickens croak, hose ends get run over, batteries die, or a car breaks down (and won’t be repaired until the local mechanic who is out of service due to his priorities like….getting married). It’s really not like we’re one little blue pill from being in an asylum. It’s more like that it’s just another day at the ranch. 

The other day (most things here at the rancho happen then), I had to get a haircut so the dog catcher wouldn’t be tracking me down. Other than dear friend and ultra-high-class stylist, Allen Zailian in Fresno, I’m glad to say that my barber is the best (regular) one I’ve found in my entire experience of having my locks shorn from my noggin. 

Several years ago, and after years of lousy haircuts, I had just about decided to either just go full “onion head” (for all you Andy Griffith fans out there) or go “au natural” to see just how long and curly my hair would get if left alone.  

On the reality side, I couldn’t see Ol’ Ran being referred to as “Rancher Curly” (think “Curly” of the “Three Stooges”) or “Ol’ Mop Head Hippy Rancher Dude”, or, with a switch of hats and adding some braiding, “Chief Bulging Buffalo”. And, Connie got a vote which was, “Neither!” So, it was decided to take yet another step into the unknown and try another local barber.

Just across the street from the old “SaveMart” supermarket at Olive and D Street, is a small strip mall with which I had been familiar for many years (and even remembered it being a dirt lot, oh, so many years ago). But, I had developed a bad case of perceptual filtering when it came to the (just another) barbershop that had been there for a couple of decades. Almost out of desperation, I ramped up my detestable fortitude, pulled the “Coop deVille” into a slot, and parked in the barber’s chair. The place? “Randy’s”! The first thought was, “Where have I been?!”

Wouldn’t you know, Randy is the best barber that I’ve ever had cut my hair! Come to find out, he’s a home-grown guy who went to the same high school as me and who knows some of the same locals folks! Such a deal! He’s also one of the nicest humblest fellas you could hope to meet! To say that I’m now a “regular” is a given. I won’t be going anywhere else! 

Anyway, moving on, I left my pile of locks on Randy’s floor and will feel comfortable showing up in public again for at least a month. It’s kind of nice to look in the mirror after the whack and actually recognize the guy staring back at me. The un-cut guy looked like an old egg rancher with a hen stuck under his ball cap. That also means that I can now service my chickens in full resplendence of tonsorial perfection. Life is good. 

 It rained! After too long a while and thinking that it was going to be a really brown season, we were hosed down with a healthy dose of wetness. Then, a few days later, more rain came! The flowers rejoiced and the result was the wonderful arrays of spring wild flowers cavorting in the wind on our gorgeous green hills. 

After a short time of almost drying out, we’re getting more of that elixir of life. Good stuff! When this next batch of rain comes in, we will still only be at about 50% or so of our seasonal norm. So, you can imagine that every drop of precipitation brings a smile to the locals’ mugs. 

That also means that Success Lake is no longer “Stuck Duck Pond”. We’ve got water in that there lake! You should see the happy fishermen along the banks and afloat in their bass boats! Sure makes a fella wish he had a day off to go fishing!

Today (as in, it didn’t happen the other day) was such a beautiful day that we decided to fire up “Ol’ Smokey”, the grill. The other day (yep…that one), we found some chicken that was priced “40% off” due to a looming “end of saleable date”. But, it wasn’t just chicken; it was a marinated leg/thigh package. The Ol’ Chicken Plucker grabbed two family packs and hauled them home. One went into the freezer next to the sirloin steak that was 50% off (!!) for the same reason. The steak is next…and soon! 

The chicken was grilled along with some zucchini and onions. Two huge baker potatoes were stacked on the rack and allowed to get started cooking. They were finished in the microwave (which was expected). All came out great no doubt due to my inferior skills at grilling (i.e. I got lucky). 

We dined outside on the patio where the temp and weather was perfect. It was just so peaceful that we determined to do it again. Our big beautiful glass dining and patio set with large comfortable spring-style chairs hadn’t been used in a long long time! So, that was another treat! 

It was also cool to take a few bread scraps and chuck them over the patio enclosure so the chickens could partake of the feast, too. It is always a hoot to watch them hustle around trying to snatch every morsel from the others despite all of them being members of the corpulent clucking crew and far from starving.

Abbie the Princess Wonder Pooch Report: I have to say, my little doggie has been sharpening her “huntin’ dawg” skills lately. The other day (did I mention that that’s when most things happen around here?), she had on her shock collar because the hens were in the coop takin’ care of business (BTO!!). Though not usually allowed on the patio, we heard her barking away and knew that she had treed something and that it was probably behind the fridge. Instead, once out back, we saw that she was at the other end of the patio which told us there was a critter of some sort hiding behind the cabinets there. 

Ol’ Ran, not being afraid of too many things that are a fraction of his size, started moving and shaking things and got immediate results. A big rat scampered across the top of the gardening tools shelf. 

I fired my CO2 BB pistol (hey….I still remember the Boy Sprout motto, “Be Prepared”) never thinking that I didn't have eye protection and that a ricochet would ruin my day. It was a clean miss largely due to being a bit slow on the draw and thinking that he would appear at the bottom and to the rear of the shelf.

He made a dash (a mad one, presumably) to my left which gave him access to a few things behind which he could hide. The first reasonable spot was one of our refrigerators. It was movin’ and shakin’ time again. As I did that, the rat made a run for it. That was a real dumb move to do when you have an ace huntin’ dawg at hand. 

There was a brief rustling and scurrying and then silence. I didn’t even see what happened! When I looked into the back yard, there Miss Abbie was with a huge raton in her mouth and showing the world her limp trophy. Go, Abbie!!

Fuzzer Report: the day prior to Abbie’s victory, it was my turn to claim some fame. A fuzzer met me at the door of the coop as the egg harvest commenced. The fact that it was sauntering and not fleeing for dear life really fractured my framistam! I did my own sauntering back to the house and grabbed the genuine “Critt-R-Gitter” and started out back to wreak a bit of havoc on the varmint population. 

The first fuzzer was on the back side of the barn and I was on the near side figurin’ (I do a lot of that) to head him off at the pass that should still exist from when they built this place. When, what before my two non-bloodshot eyes should appear, but a second brazenly fearless fuzzer parked atop my number 4 garden box! The arrogant flea toter was just sitting there mocking me like, “Watcha gonna do, you big, ugly, overweight, middle-age, taco eater? You gonna, like, shoot me or something?” 

Slowly I lifted my sweet little scoped Ruger and secured it against my shoulder (such shots are something I don’t ordinarily do). At that range, the critter looked like a large football in my scope so I merely squeezed the trigger and let the Ruger do the work. 

After a sharp report, the target was laid out on the ground but was moving a bit too much for my liking.  For one, even as much as I hate fuzzers, I don’t like wounding an animal. So, I made quick work of the matter with a second closer shot. Taco Tucker: 1; Fuzzer: 0. You know….someone should tell the vermin crowd that old guys like me just don’t like to be mocked.

Chickenin’ Report: all is well with our league of lazy layers. That’s not to say that we haven’t experienced some attrition in our ranks but, by and large, things are moving along fairly well. 

For one thing, our girls are steadily producing now. That’s a good thing. We harvested a two day total of 78 eggs one time and almost the same a couple of days later. We’re averaging about 2.5 dozen a day so far but really need to see another dozen come about. Feeding clucking and crowing pets is not why we’re here. 

It’s not like we don’t pamper these feather brains. Though they are stuffed most of the time, they turn rabidly gluttonous at the first available grain of scratch or crumb of bread. Though they live at the “Hen House Hilton”, for some reason, they think they live at “Starvation Heights”, or something. They even all but mug me for treats when I step out into the barn yard. 

‘Puter Update: do you remember the old saying, “when it rains, it pours”? Well, as noted earlier, it rained and poured the other day. And, included in the raindrops was at least one large caliber bullet. My big Dell quad-core work horse box forgot to duck and the slug went straight into its non-pea-pickin’ four terra-byte heart (i.e. the hard drive disk). I really didn’t need that kind of grief especially since it had only been a short time since the last bucket load of computer grief was dumped out. 

This is where the “be prepared” motto really comes in handy. My standby box is a really nice HP Pavilion 23 All-in-One dual-core machine with 6 GB of RAM. It was already configured as a backup box prior to the previous crash less than a year ago. Out it came and I was back online rather quickly. Most of the labor was for installing the new printers that had been added since it was last used. No biggy, but it surely sucked up a lot of that ever-so-valuable commodity, time. 

I also had immediate access to my sweet little XP machine which allows a lot of work to be done as well as providing Internet access. However, it has not yet been configure as a backup box yet. It won’t be fully configured as such but you can bet I’ll be making some upgrades and improvements on it on my next… day off. 

So far, it comes in handy for watching things on YouTube since it is connected to the HDMI 4 input of the big screen. It’s also great for multi-tasking since it has a built-in card reader, a CD/DVD RW, and it incorporates the software to burn anything but a barn. 

A quick bit of homework allowed the Computer Dude to decide on a replacement drive for the big work box. It’ll be a Seagate "FireCuda" 2 Terra-Byte highbred SSD/mechanical drive (at the usual 7,200 spin rate). It’s the best of both worlds where I get the speed of the SSD and the capacity of the spinner drive. Next month, I’ll add a second 6 Terra-byte spinner drive for storage. That will take the load off meaning that it should last longer as a storage drive than as a 24/7 workhorse. The “Newegg” order is on the way and may even be here tomorrow. It’ll be a busy weekend (as if…)!

Most of my backups were made and I managed to get a lot off the affected drive. However, its performance deteriorated rather quickly so I still lost a lot of data (though not much was worth losing sleep over. Lots of technical stuff lost, though). It’ll take a couple of months to get everything glued back together like I want it. Life goes on but it’s will go by more easily with this new super-fast hard drive (have I mentioned that I’m convenience oriented and that “easy” is my friend?). 

There you have it: another episode of what’s happening at Rancho Relaxo, home of Rancho Ran, the world's foremost authority (the previous one died), Connie the Canner (world's greatest side-cook), where things can get…interesting, and where… you just never know.

Rancho Frio

This shot of the snow cap was taken from the Lake Success viewpoint parking lot. The campground is in the middle of the picture. It is surely nice to see some congealed water on our mountains!

The viewpoint parking lot again and looking NE.

Still at the viewpoint parking lot. The campground is in the forefront.

On the way home eastbound on Hwy 190 and in front of the River Island Golf Course. Shot from the Coop de Ville. This is Black Mountain. It's nice to see it covered with snow and not fire.

Something new has been added! No more "Port-a-Potties" at the viewpoint parking lot! It's nice to know that there's at least one genius left in this area!

This is what's left of the Lake Express Market. It burned down some time ago but they only recently hauled off the debris. These are the gas pumps which were not damaged by the fire. No word yet as to what will be built/re-built on this spot but......I can guess.

Call me "silly" but I really love "halo shots" where the sun highlights an area on the ground. Click on any picture for an enlargement.

To the right is one of our neighbor's duck pond. It was just too pretty not to take a picture of it.

Another shot of the same pond. It's over on Ave 176 around the hill from us and on the same dirt road leading to the home of one of our computer clients.

A winter time view of Rancho Relaxo when the view is not occluded by the big fruitless mulberry tree. Not enough rain to keep the grass green and not enough spizzerinctum for the Ol' Rancher to water it. We often park the Coop de Ville in front of the door. It's much more convenient when loading and unloading. And, you just know that Ol' Rancho Ran is convenience oriented.

 Here are our vines. They're all nice and pruned up for winter.

I tossed this in for reference. That is to say, there are folks who can go to the supermarket and buy tortillas. But, in some places (like Hooterville, CA), you have markets that have an entire aisle dedicated to tortillas (plus the end cap)! It just goes to show you that all tortillas are not the same or made equally (and it really speaks of the ethnicity of an area, eh?). I didn't bother to take the time to count them....but was tempted to do so. Tortillas are our friends!










Well!! Flames of Atoma (all you old “Captain Video” fans out there)! It’s March, already!! What a load of kartoffelpuffer! Moving along but with resentful guttural sounds being made……….

Rancho Report: well, here we go again for another round of what’s happening at the “Daily Plant It” (where my alter ego is wearing an apron instead of his lovely cape). It’s more or less the same ol’ seven and sixes but different each month. We’re just doing whatever is necessary to keep the Oompa Loompas from rioting at this chocolate factory.

The Rancho Twins are quite busy as usual keeping up with our assigned tasks. It’s “upstairs, downstairs, out in the kitchen” (all you “Stringbean” fans: “Hot Corn Cold Corn”) then off to town (Hooterville) to pay bills, shop, visit, pick up chicken food/greens and what all, up to Springville to mail stuff or get chicken scratch, get gas for the gas cans (for the tractor and other motorized stuff round here), feed the dog, and keep up with the chickens (most folks only have to keep up with the Joneses). And, wait folks, there's more! We stir the compost pile, take out the trash, collect eggs, fix computers, check the mail, check e-mail (with a hot cup of coffee latte’ on hand, of course), take care of phone calls (both directions), start some of the gas engines so they don’t clog up, get stuff ready for church (e.g. bulletins, recording equipment, et. al.), and deal with whatever exigencies arise (and they do arise). It can leave a fella lookin' for....a day off. 

Do make note that we occasionally have what we call a “stay home day” which we appreciate so very much. On those days, we manage to keep up with e-mail, computers, and such things that allow for us to stay in our “work clothes” (i.e. Wal-Mart bed pants, T-shirt, and slippers) and not have to wear our street clothes. I suppose that I really shouldn’t say “we” given that Connie leans toward being a bit (actually, two bits) more human and regularly stays in more normal attire. Perhaps she feels that at least one of us ought not to appear to be a slovenly bum if someone comes to the door (oh, to where has my youthful vanity fled with such alacrity?). All I can say in my defense is, “comfort is my friend” and to check for aberrations in my DNA.

And, riding herd over a bunch of brainless squawkers is a mighty hard task and keeping up with too-intelligent computers is a chore. Thankfully, overseeing a bunch of believers at church is comfortably in the middle. I guess it all works out in the end. 

We local yokels were bemoaning the dang near hot weather around here when that changed overnight. The temp fell from highs in the 70’s and lows of about 42 degrees to 26 degrees. That’ll put frost on your Edsel! Hace frío en Springville! It's about time that the weather was conducive to seasonal change. Our trees and vines need the rest (albeit it seems the rest won't be all that long). We finally got some snow on them thar hills, too! We actually had a brief snow flurry  that apprised us that winter was stopping by for a visit (big whoop). 

Thankfully, we live in a small cove area that is largely protected from hard freeze events (though not always) so we didn’t have to patch broken pipes the next day. This old warm-blooded guy actually welcomes the cooler weather. At least he gets to wear his jacket two or three times each winter.

There was a light dusting of snow on Black Mountain, just to the east of us. It had the first few hundred feet of its top dusted with white stuff. A couple of days later, we even had a brief snow flurry (brief as in about 3 minutes around our near vicinity). It only happens infrequently and certainly not so soon after such warm temps. Black Mountain was re-sprayed with a bit more snow a second time and with more lovely white stuff than the previous time. So, we think that the real mountains (east of Black Mountain) got a goodly dose of the much-needed precipitation.

In 2000, we got about 6” of snow dumped on us. That was a first, to be sure. I had seen about ½” or so in ’63 (I think) but no accumulation since then. There is even a picture of the more recent event posted in the Springville Post Office.

It was “Smog Check Time in Springville” so I aired up the leaky left rear tire on Tojo and headed down the hill. Since we would likely have to drop off the little picky up truck and leave it, Connie followed in the Camry.

The tire has had a slow leak for at least 6 years that I can think of so there was no thought of having an issue with it (it never goes anywhere but to the dump, the gas station, and to the smog check place). After all, just because the tire was ragged looking, weather checked, leaky, and was 20 years old, why should the Ol’ Rancher be concerned about it? It did have a modest tread on it and the other three tires were quite fine. But, Ol’ Mr. Back Up brought along his nice yellow portable air tank just in case.

That was a really good idea because, prior to reaching P’ville, I had to pull over because, amazingly, the air had escaped the tire. No, worries, says I. Out comes the air tank, a blast of fresh air into the tire, and away we go.

It certainly seemed prudent to head to “Carroll’s Tire Warehouse” a couple of miles away. That, too, was a good move since the tire was almost flat again when we pulled in. After discovering a tear in the sidewall (so much for a slow leak), the guy at the counter sold me a tire at cost (long story). So, 43 bucks later, we’re headed to the smog shop.

At the smog house, it was a “NO GO”. The truck didn’t pass because the catalytic converter (a mere 33 years old) was shot. We’d need a new one. OK; we can do that. But, first we’d have to park it at the church so we could continue shopping and such in the Camry.

Only a few blocks from the church, a strong odor of gasoline flooded the interior of the truck. My lightning-fast mind concluded, “This is not a good thing”. I continued on but looked into the rear view mirror just in time to see a pool of liquid at the intersection behind me. A second conclusion was: “This could be….. interesting”. I have been to more than one car fire and wasn’t immediately interested in participating in one myself. Thankfully, I quickly pulled into the church parking lot with Connie closely following.

“No worries”, says I. “That’s why we have ‘AAA’ towing”. My guess is that the fuel pump may be leaking or a high pressure hose leading from the pump gave up on us. Shouldn’t be a biggy that I can tell. We finished our chores in town then, when those were completed, returned to our comfy sanctuary of peace and called for a tow.

When the tow truck got to our place, get this, the right front tire of the pickup was….flat. Can you imagine that?! Two flats in one day! Hmmmmm….we need another tire (probably a full set), a catalytic converter, fuel pump (plus installation), and a smog check. A quick mental tally showed that that would roughly be equal to or even exceed the worth of my little beater truck.

Well…..that sort of cleaned up the last remnants of my good day. I can’t say that I was as upbeat as Ulla Inga Hansen Benson Yansen Tallen Hallen Svaden Swanson Bloom but I wasn’t wrecked. I have…options and options are my friends.

I figure that I can install the fuel pump myself and can probably find a set of “take offs” or used tires and save some cash (if I can ever get a…..day off). We’ll see.

A couple of days later and a trip to “DMV” (bypassing the mile-long line by making an appointment, natch), Tojo was on “Non-Op” status until further notice. We also canceled the insurance, too, which saved a few Green Stamps.

The other day, it was “bean time” at Rancho Relaxo. You  know, of course, that man does not live by bread alone; he has to have a bean (I think that’s in the book of “Third Randy”). So, the Ol’ Rancher fired up his “Power Pressure Cooker” (we are great friends, that thing and I....hmmmm...sounds like a great title for a movie, "The Thing and I". Maybe not) and tossed three cups of beans, ½ pound of bacon (never skimp on that stuff), and approximately one tablespoon of salt into the water! You probably can’t imagine the anticipation that a hungry chicken plucker can muster when he smells beans and bacon cooking!

That, in turn, precipitated a great need to add the classic “Okie/Arkie” side dish, fried taters! It was time to rip the skins off some spuds and get to whackin’! Thankfully, Ran, the cookin’ dude, had just enough time to wrangle the Russets and get them perfectly fried up exactly when the beans were done! Whoooo dooogies!

Yes!! I do, indeed, know what you are thinking: “Where’s the cornbread, you dummy?!”. I know….I know. I was hoping that no one would turn me in to the “Southern Cooking Police”. I’m beggin’ for mercy! I just couldn’t quite fit it into the timetable. I’ll try to double up next time!

Anyway, when it was all done and steaming hot, we grabbed our big soup bowls (small ones not allowed in our house) and filled them slap up with beans and taters! Oh, man! I wasn’t hungry until the next day! Now, I ain’t braggin’ but it’s understood that I don’t do nothing that I don’t do good (all you Bob Wills fans: “Bring it on Down to My House”). I’ll do that again and soon!

  

Princess Pooch Report: Abbie has a way of redeeming herself at just the right time. Our little rambunctious coon hound has way too much time on her hands and gets into mischief at the earliest impulse. 

For instance, she's pretty good at tracking down a lone and unsuspecting cardboard box, hauling it off, and shredding until it isn't immediately recognizable as such. That's what happened a few days ago. Swell....chunks of cardboard all over the place. 

However, she recently earned her "Old Roy". The other night, the chickens had been bedded down for a couple of hours or so. That would include the one Red that seems to not get the memo on how dangerous it is to park her feathers out in the open. She probably just inherited a lazy gene since, instead of marching thirty feet to the coop, she parks on the tongue of Dumbo, our covered trailer. The goofy bird does that every time the girls are let out for the day. I have to take her from her roost and haul her into the coop where it’s safe. Dumb cluck.

Continuing….when the birds are safe, I put the shock collar on Abbie so she can roam about at night. It allows her to go halfway up one side of the coop. Later that evening, when I recognized that familiar, “I’ve treed again, y’all!”, barking and headed outside to see what was happening, that’s precisely where I found her.

She was trying with all her might to get under the plastic skirt that we had hung to protect our girlie birds from the winter winds. Expecting to find a large rat, I hauled back the curtain and watched Abbie blitz into action. In a few moments, she was hauling out the largest ‘possum she had ever caught so far. It had ceased to function and it’s legs were flopping as Abbie hauled the carcass away.

Though I don’t doubt the crushing capability of her jaws, ‘possums do “play ‘possum”. Not wanting to embarrass her by being fooled (again), and not wanting to risk having a critter running around the ranch while happily breeding other chicken snatchers, I grabbed my CO2 pistol. Abbie was a bit hesitant in allowing me to share her glory but eventually acquiesced and allowed me access to the thing so as to insure her success. Abbie – 1; Critter – 0. I'm teaching her to "high five". 

  

Fuzzer Report: it's almost springtime and the fuzzers are...uh...springing into action. They are rejoicing at the fact that they don't have to combat freezing temperatures. Accordingly, they are scampering about with all hilarity and just daring me to stop them. So, I did that. Recently, the Ruger "Critter Git'R's" scope was dialed in so it wouldn't have to be used as a club. Out it came, the Rancher to aim, and three fuzzers are no longer getting fatter and happier each day. Fuzzers - 0; Deadeye Ran - 3

The other varmint rifle, a 17 HMR, needs to be dialed in,  too. That little sweetie can really reach out and touch a critter at 2,500+ fps. That's roughly twice the speed of a .22LR. So, the trajectory is quite flat when using it around the back 40 (all two acres of it). Fuzzers beware!

Chickening Report: while heading out to the mailbox the other day, it was easy to note the mass of scattered potting soil on the front porch. One of our craptors (it’s difficult to not be denigrating when it comes to stupid chickens….even if you are a bird brain and love them to pieces) was parked in a deep hole she had dug out of a large porch rail planter. That, of course, left potting soil all…over…the place. To conflate her intolerance for our property, she knocked off a porcelain pot and broke it. That just doesn't sit well with the folks that run the ranch. With 36 built-in boxes in the coop and a small chicken house in which to lay eggs, she picks one of Connie the Canner’s flower boxes. *SIGH*. 

Not wanting to have to clean a dead chicken and prep it for freezing or dinner, I deferred advising her about the matter. The hope was to act as surprised as she when we both next headed to the car. That actually sort of worked. It was close.

After a short time, she, with her profoundly normal hearing, heard a,“Hey! I just laid an egg!”, cackle being loudly proclaimed by the offending hen (you do learn to speak chicken-ese after awhile, don'tcha know). "How  convenient”, I thought! So, Ol’ Ran headed out to the scene of the crime and found the egg. Wasn’t that just swell of me?!

Now, things would have worked out just fine from there had not another feathery egg producer not tried to arrogantly upstage the previous offender. One of the Rhode Island Reds decided that the hole dug by the Leghorn would perfectly fit her fluffy egg laying factory. After clucking about and making an even bigger mess of things, she set about her business. Sure enough, within a short time, we had another egg in hand and a proud hen loudly proclaiming her victory.

That may have gone well except that, when finished, the recalcitrant Red decided to dismember the nice flower in the planter! She was busily pruning the thing when we stopped her and steered her out of and away from the planter (ever so gently though not without the temptation to do so with a sharp axe). Note to hen: Don’t do that in the presence of someone who is an expert in canning chicken! 

Connie grabbed a broom and dustpan and cleaned up the mess (but not until after cooling down a few hundred degrees and me hiding the butcher knives). Amazingly, two hens dodged the pressure cooker that day. 

Chicken points to ponder: isn’t it amazing that a chicken can gain all the weight it wants to…and never show it in the face (thank you Roger Miller)?

There you have it: another episode of what’s happening at Rancho Relaxo, home of Rancho Ran, the world's foremost authority (the previous one died), Connie the Canner (world's greatest side-cook), where things can get…interesting, and where… you just never know.