RANCHO DRONE-O

  Above is Abbie stalking a gopher. I don't mind that she is using her stalking skills but a better application of her talents is to stalk coons and rabbits.

                                          Here's the hungry hen horde in full pecking array.

To the left is the drone-meister himself fiddling with his control unit and trying to figure out the complexities of flying a drone. Notice that he is in deep thought and is applying himself with great effort to make the stupid thing take a picture.

To the right is the official "drone throne". It will
have to do until the...um...convenience-oriented...drone pilot can fetch one of his gig stools from the barn.

This is the Coop de Ville with Dumbo, the trailer, next to Toyo, the Camry. Shot from the drone.

Ladies and Gentlemen......the drone. She's a little cruiser that takes a mighty fine picture. The table is a work table that has been newly re-purposed as a drone-platz. The little firefly weighs less than a half pound so it doesn't have to be registered with the FAA.

Did you ever want to spy on your neighbors? Me neither. But, when you're out taking your drone for a walk, you may as well see what it'll do (looking Northeast).

To the right, is the area directly across the street from us (looking south).









Below is a shot of the rear of Rancho Relaxo (looking south).
You, no doubt, have always wanted see our rear.

a 

To the right is another shot across the street but looking more toward the southeast. The main street is Highway 190 which leads to Springville (3 miles).

Well…it’s February! Doesn’t that just make you want to pick a peck of pickled peppers? Where does the time fly to when it’s in such a hurry?!

Things are moving along here at the rancho. We stay about as busy as a long-tailed cat in room full of rocking chairs. That’s not a complaint. Lots of folks don’t get to move around that much so we’re thankful to be able to do so.

The weather has been almost wintery. It tried but then it looks like it has given up on the matter. It’s already springy and we’re not even close to being prepared for that event.

No ham: you know it’s busy around here when the ol’ hamster hasn’t had an opportunity to work with his ham radio station. There is a really nice “Slinky” dipole antenna that needs to be finished and tweaked but there isn’t a priority to work on it yet. It shouldn’t take but about an hour or so. Maybe I can get to it soon.

Having time to finish setting up my radios for digital communications is also sitting on the shelf. The chips to pair the rigs with the sound card/modem are on the shelf, too. But there’s no way to get to it for now.

Up in the air: to be able to fly my drone legally, a recent “biannual flight review” is required. Every two years, pilots are required to fly with a CFI/instructor for an hour or so and do about an hour’s ground school instruction. It’s not a “pass or fail” test as such. It’s just a refresher of sorts so that pilots don’t try to fly with a brain full of rust.

So, the Ol’ Fokker lover called a CFI friend and scheduled a flight. Lots of things to talk about here. One is that I haven’t flown in 5 years. The highest I’ve been is near the top of a ten foot ladder (and it was day VFR at that). And, Rancho Relaxo doesn’t have any flight sims with which to stay proficient, either. So, Ol’ Rusty Ran had to focus (“Must focus!”, as Mr. Miyagi says).

Another thing is that the only airplane for rent within 50-75 miles was a Cessna 150 (an airplane that I swore I’d never purposely fly again so that it wouldn't have the opportunity to try to kill me). I’ve flown many hours in a “buck and a half” Cessna and thought that I had transitioned over to real airplanes (though I’m still having doubts about how to categorize the Cessna 172 mush-through-the-air wagon). With the exception of when I weighed 160 lbs and flying solo (try 1966), I couldn’t help but note (on no few occasions, in no few locations, and in no few of them including the 152) that they hate to fly and hate to climb even more!

Well, now I weigh in at close to 220lbs. To save weight, I wanted to fly in my bed pants and T-shirt since I’d be much lighter but Connie nixed that straightaway. I’m not sure why since no one would be laughing at her. Maybe she wanted to spare me the ridicule (bless her heart).  

And, the instructor was about my size. Do the math on that. Stuff in (38" cabin width) an overweight, middle-aged (OK, old), white dude, and another guy just like him for an instructor, and you have a pretty hefty load for a 100 hp pink-fundament hauler. 

Oh…that’s not including gas…gas is our friend. We need gas. The “Cessna One Thrifty” only holds 24 gallons of fuel (22 gallons usable) so that’s 144 lbs of fuel. The ship (depending upon the model) will only tote around 550 lbs into the sky. That leaves us at about 406 lbs of useful load (accounting for 144 lbs of fuel). You can see that, if we aren’t paying attention, we may have to leave some fuel (or one behind) behind. Otherwise, taking off with three cups of gas in the tank just  isn’t a comforting thought at all.

Thankfully, Lennard (sic), the instructor, knew that he wasn’t going to be flying with a lightweight so he didn’t top off the tanks. We had about ten gallons of fuel (this old dipstick used a dipstick to check) so that would give us more than an hour of flying time and a healthy reserve in case we wanted to shoot a an extra touch-and-go (which we did).

This is where things start to get…interesting. We did the walk-around pre-flight check, strapped in, fired up the Continental O-200, and, after all the steam gauges were in the green, taxied out to the active runway (which is “30” at Hooterville International Aerodrome). After the run-up mag check, and a radio call to announce our intentions, the little metal birdie was lined up on the center line of our (wonderful) 150’ wide runway (though it does make you feel rather small especially when you’re sitting in tiny SPAM can). The throttle was fully advanced and away we went with the wheels coming off the ground in a rather short distance.

What blew me away is that the bloody thing actually started climbing without my having to beg it or spur it to do so! I was almost stunned! I hadn’t seen a 150 climb like that since flying solo and with half tanks (53 years ago!)! Then, it dawned on my rusty noggin’ why. It was a really cool 50 degree day so the air was“thick” and “healthy”. Cool air is dense air and planes love dense air (and their engines do too). I couldn’t get over it! I told Lennard how happy I was that we didn’t have to take all day to gain altitude! He grinned and agreed that cool air was…cool.

After an hour or so of playing around with steep turns, stalls, slow-flight, and such, we headed back to the flugplatz for a couple of touch-and-go landings. Lo and behold; the landings were acceptable and nothing was bent or broken! It won’t take much practice and I’ll have my “greaser” landings back.

We taxied back to the hangar, parked the bird, and Lennard signed me off; I’m good to go. And, in addition to be "drone ready", as soon as the FAA sends my medical certificate (which should be soon), I will be ready to fly solo and carry passengers as PIC (pilot in command). Should be fun!

Droning away: the new drone is officially part of the family now. It gets its exercise once per day and then is caringly carted back in out of the elements like it was a princess or something.

The other day (when lots of things happen around here), it was finally hauled outside for its maiden flight. The ol’ Drone-ster had to wait for the weather to clear, enough time, and a good mood to strike, so the inauguration flight could be conducted. The basic instructions were reviewed, the batteries checked, and with all parts and pieces in place, the props were armed. The little buzzer fired right up and was itching to show me its stuff.

A push of the “auto-hover” button shot the little bumbly bee up in the air about 8’ or so. She sat still and awaited my next brilliant command. The “up” lever was eased forward and the new bird blitzed strait up like it was part rocket! Geeez! Talk about sensitive! It was immediately noticed that the ol’ ham-handed tractor driver is going to need to use a bit more finesse.

I’m (sort of) catching on, though. It’s a frisky little critter, to be sure so it’s a handful for lil’ ol’ not-so-frisky me. I’m trying not to be overly critical of myself and try to remember that roller skating took a while to become proficient at, too (i.e. without needing time to heal whatever body part that took a beating at the rink).

Certifiable: Hey! Hey! Hey! I’m certified as a drone pilot! I can now do more than practice! All of the hoops have been jumped through and the paperwork is all out of the way. To quote my old pal, Jackie Gleason: “And, awaaaaaaaay we go!” (wasn’t that in ’66?).

I can’t even express how delighted I am that I didn’t have to slog through all of the requirements for the Part 107 SAUS pilot’s certification. With a valid airman’s certificate in my wallet, the only requirement (after the initial Part 107 exam) was the biannual flight review and to produce the “special ID” to prove who I am. That wasn’t difficult given the fact that I’ve known the instructor since 1967 (but, to follow the rules, I provided the ID anyway and he signed me off). He worked for the FBO and designated flight examiner who gave me my check ride (June '68). That and he checked me out in a couple of other birds about 7 years or so ago.

The next day after the biannual review, I contacted the nice real estate agent that I had originally spoken with about drones. She was delighted and enthusiastic that I had called and is going to be advising others in her agency. That’ll work! “Ol’ Ran the drone slinger, at your service, ma’am”.

It dawned on me (and it should have dawned quite some time ago) that I’ll need to create a business card for the drone biz. So, if I can get my brain on board with the matter, I’ll work up something reasonably professional. All of the software to do so is on hand along with lots of card stock. There’s also three HP Officejet Pro and two HP Photosmart printers all loaded and ready to rock.

Hentopia: our girls are magnificent! Even though it’s winter time, they are producing eggs without missing a beat! We’re almost getting too many eggs! Contrast that to the season where we had more than 40 birds but were only getting about 2 dozen eggs per day! They were molting and what all and just weren’t laying. We thought that they had gone strike! Keep up the good work, girls!

Princess Pooch Palace: our perky puppy hasn’t had to suffer at all this winter. She’s a short haired dog so she doesn’t take to really cold temps (unlike Maggie who eschewed dog houses like they were inhabited by lions). Every winter, a flameless oil heater is used to keep her pooch hooch warm. She loves it! It gets unplugged in the mornings when I go out to turn the Cackle Posse loose. By that time, Abbie is awake and ready to ride herd on the birds.

Honda Rancher ATV: the Honda 250 ATV has been sidelined until I could get my wrench on it. The Honda Shop in Visalia wanted 200 bucks to install a fuel petcock. I found that to be a tad spendy since the part is only 10 dollars and I’m guessing that the time involved is only about 45 minutes. Reckon someone raised their rent.

 So, ol’ thrifty Ran had to order a new petcock gas valve and will now wade into the project. It’s not all that difficult but it does take time (and that’s a scarce commodity around here).

The little cart is a great help because I can get so much done in much less time and with much less effort. It’ll be great to hear its engine purr again.

Update: The petcock just came in the mail (the dealer was going to charge me about 100 dollars for it) and I just installed the thing myself in about 30 minutes (the shop was going to charge close to 100 dollars for labor). The Honda runs just fine now and the savings was about 190 bucks!

There you have it: another short episode of the long happenings at Rancho Relaxo, home of Rancho Ran, the world's foremost authority (the previous one died) and Connie the Canner, world's greatest side-cook: where the air smells like freshly-baked cookies and 2 cycle motor oil: where things can get...interesting, and where...you just never know.

Rancho Año Nuevo

Here's a couple of pix for the expats out there. This is the new building on the NE corner of Main and Olive where the old Porterville Hotel stood for a hundred years. This new one will hold the new DA's offices on the top two floors while the first floor will be for (whatever) businesses. The scaffolding has been removed since this shot was taken.








This is a shot of the remodeling that's going on for the new "Fugazi's" Italian restaurant. You will immediately recognize it as the former "Palace" restaurant. The place has been vacant for quite some time.

 

T

Reckon I couldn't pass up a shot of my bestest and onlyest coon dog ever. When not being an absolute snotty princess and a royal pain in the wazoo, she's the sweetest and sharpest doggie in our whole area code. Love my goofy pooch.

It's just another day at the rancho for Roo (real name, Strutarooski),  our gorgeous big ol' red rooster. He's definitely the cock o' the walk! In the background is the Ranch Rino. I needed it to pull the van out of the muck and wanted to do some minor maintenance on it so didn't put it back in the pole barn.

a

Here's one of the Barred Rocks parked on the #4 garden box. There's hardly a square inch of our rancho that hasn't had a chicken foot in it. We love our two-legged fertilizer spreaders! The box is pretty much barren and has yet to be readied for spring. There seems to be no hurry which is probably why all of my veggie harvests are so late in the year.













To the right is a shot of our "back 40 minus 38.5" taken from the neighbor's yard. We were coming back from a nice visit with our new neighbors who, I am most pleased to report, are GOOD neighbors! Looking west. I hate palm trees. You can't see the mess in my pole barn.












Well! Can you believe it?! It’s January 2020! I could have sworn that 2019 had just gotten here and now it’s 2020! Doesn’t that just burn your hoe cakes?! It seems like this New Year got here faster than Granny Clampett could track, shoot, clean, and cook a coon! Oh, well. Moving along…..

Hip hop: things are hopping here at the ranch (like…that’s big news). The two old not-so-hipsters (and sometimes with aching hips) are hopping into the van going here then hopping into the Camry and going there. I’m not sure the engines on either car actually cool down much (the tires sure don’t). I would complain if the gas prices were as high as they were a couple of years ago. But, thanks to the lower prices (not as low as Texas, though. They are almost a dollar less!), going places doesn’t leave as big a hole in the pocket book as then.

All of that travelling is local. The only time we've been out of town was a few weeks ago when we went to Tulare and Visalia (Tulare is directly on the way to Visalia. Visalia rhymes with “Vidalia” which is an onion. Visalia doesn’t grow onions but does have a growing population of criminals).

Phoney me: it looks like the old Luddite has finally come up to speed. Last month, I got a new iPhone so that I could properly fly my drone (no one likes to fly a blind drone, eh). I’m still being made a fool of by this fool thing! I’m hoping that I don’t run out of teeth and hair before I learn how to use it. It’s almost like trying to learn to work with the Microsoft “VISTA” operating system. It took a long time to grow my hair back. Looks like the ol’ rancho has gone global…*SIGH*.

What’s cookin’?: the other day (when lots of things happen around here), the Ol’ Rancher was suddenly and deliberately pounced upon by an irresistible time-related age-enforcement dynamic (bet you didn’t see that one coming). But, the ol’ guy but didn’t have time to celebrate the matter in a timely matter so a different day had to be designated as “birthday celebration lunch day”. That’s not problem for the rather adaptable dude that he is (though he surely misses being a much younger “dapper dude” that he used to be….but will somehow manage). This past Sunday was chosen as the special feast day for newly-older local yokel.

Since the place first open three years ago, the Yo-Yo twins (well..at least Yo did) have wanted to knock over “Nanlangka’s” Japanese teppanyaki and sushi restaurant (on N. Main where the old “Carmen’s” used to be [is Danny Figuero still around?]) but just never got around to it (probably because they require reservations at the teppan tables). So, at my mother’s suggestion, we made reservations and went there.  

We sat there quite a while awaiting the seats to be filled (I think they try to play to a full house) before the talented chef arrived on scene. That gave as some time to chat and sip green tea. When he did arrive, the show started.

The kid was pretty good. He twirled and juggled his tools of the trade around like an Olympian and put on a nice show. There was a couple of (purposed for show) flash fires including a “volcano” made of sliced onions (they do that at “Yoshino’s” in Fresno, too). And, there was a nice egg-to-the-chef’s-hat and pocket toss that was entertaining, too. The guests all had a lot of questions which initiated a humorous banter between he and them. It was a nice time.

After banging and clanging a bit, he chopped and flipped veggies, egg, rice, meat and such on the hot grill then customized each plate order. Each scoop held a generous portion and all were happy. Connie had the teriyaki chicken (her favorite) while my mother and I had the shrimp and scallops. After allowing the meal to settle, we un-hurriedly made our way to the car.

Ah, but my mother had another brilliant idea. She said, “Wouldn’t it be great to get some ice cream for desert?”. Well…we knew what that meant: Thrifty ice cream! The great news was that the “Rite-Aid” store was only about four blocks away! How about that!

Since it was a special time, we all got the double-dip cones and cups of our favorites. The tab on that was 9 bucks…for ice cream….for… ice cream (anyone else remember 25 cents per scoop at a “Thrifty Drug Store”?). When I added it up in my head, our outing had run over 85 dollars for a modest lunch and a desert! It wasn’t something to load a Huggie over but it sure go my attention (I’m still in sticker shock over the price of a movie!...you know you’re old when….).  Let’s just say that it’s amazing how much it costs to exist but there aren’t any words when you add a celebration to the matter!  Aw, well. My momma thinks I’m worth it.   

After the revelry, it was time to go home and take a nap (naps are our friends).

3-2-1-lift-off!: after getting all of the requisite parts, pieces, rules, regs, instruction manual, and courage together, it was time to test fly the drone. When you familiarize yourself with the features of a drone, you see that most are fairly tame beasts. This one has an “auto-altitude” control and an “auto-return-to-take-off-point” feature that really takes a load off. If you get bumfuzzled (I’m too lazy to type discombobulated) for any reason, you hit the magic button and the bird comes home to roost.

After arming the motors and listening to the four small blades anxiously whipping the air, the altitude hold (hover) was initiated. The little buzzer obediently lifted off  to an altitude of about 8’ or so. A glance at the iPhone monitor showed an over-weight, middle-aged, white guy staring stupidly at a drone camera. 

At that point, the control levers were twiddled and the thing quickly wafted off in another direction. Whoooooaaa…”Easy, Ran”! Hover mode….twiddle….hover mode….twiddle. Turn left…turn right. Fiddle here, twiddle there. Finally, it was time to see if this ham-handed pilot could actually land the four-fanned new-fangled contraption.

The thing has an idiosyncrasy (I think it’s an idiot-syncrasy myself) of stopping then back-hovering a bit. So, that has to be accounted for or your landing zone may end up being way too hazardous. But, after a couple of tries, the little bird sat down easily and comfortably on top of “Toyo”, the Camry. It's fans stopped then it was time to take off and do it again. 

The above practice routine was rehearsed a couple of times until the lights started blinking because the battery was getting low. That was about enough for me, anyway. I had another battery but old people can have just so much fun at one time. Back in the case it went, the battery was placed on the charger, and the Ol’ Rancher went back to work.

Ye Ol’ Stick in the Mud: it was time to hook up the Wooley Pulley (again) so Ol’ Rancho Ran fired up the Coop de Ville and headed out back to fetch it. There was a bunch of stuff (we’re pretty much “Stuffsville” around here) to the hangar and get it out of our way for awhile. Ah, but somebody forgot that it had rained the day before and that our back 40 (minus 38.5) acres is rather messy when it does. So, without thinking, Ol’ Skid pulled off the concrete drive way to position the van for the hookup.

Quicker than you can kick an armadillo across the room, the van sank into the mud. The driver felt like his IQ just slid below that of Sponge Bob Squarepants. *SIGH*.

Oh, well. Not to worry. That’s what the Rancho Rino is for. The trusty little tractor was fired up and a cable was attached to the scraper then to the van’s bumper hitch. I asked Connie to man the wheel while I slowly pulled the van backwards. 

This is where things got…interesting. I was trying to ease the car out and Connie was trying to drive the car out with the throttle (obviously, someone forgot to send her to the “pulling cars from the mud” class). The tractor did its job but so did the van’s tires. The van got traction and rapidly lurched back which caught her plumb off guard. She threw the wheel in one direction while the car careened in the other (she’s backward) all the while the van is excavating mud high in to the air and distributing in our and the neighbors yards (or so it seemed). She finally got out of the throttle and the van tamed down and the mud rain ceased. 

When I walked up to the van, I found her hiding behind two huge eyeballs. My lightning-fast mind asked her, “Are you having fun yet?”. She shyly advised that it wasn’t fun and began saying something about what happened. I couldn’t really hear her because of the laughter. The trailer load had to wait until the next day. C’est la vie.  

 There you have it: another short episode of the long happenings at Rancho Relaxo, home of Rancho Ran, the world's foremost authority (the previous one died) and Connie the Canner, the world's greatest side-cook (a Freudian slip as she stumbled trying to say "side-kick"): where the air smells like fresh baked banana cake and sun-dried wash: where things can get...interesting and where...you just never know. Good night, Mrs. Calabash, wherever you are.

Rancho Sigue Mucho Trabajo Siempre

Heeeeeeeeere, chick, chick, chick! They DO come a'runnin' when the ol' chicken dude calls! Here's a few of the ladies and Roo gettin' down on their morning grits.

Here's a shot of the nearby Black Mountain. The next day the snow covered the mountain to the bottom (below).

This is a shot of "Country Friends" playing at the Elks Club in P'ville. This the next-to-the-last gig with them. Kirby couldn't make the gig so Randy Fowler (a great guitar player) is playing drums. I didn't know that about him but should have guessed! Porterville's got talent!

This is the last gig with them. Jim McCartney will be playing lead in my place. He's a an excellent picker so it should work out well.

Here's the cake that Dee and Chuck presented to yours truly at the last gig with them at Golden Hills.I love edible gifts, don't you?!

To the left is Caleb Melo, a fine young man and great
steel and lead guitar picker! He's....18 years old!
Have I mentioned that Porterville's got talent?! This is Friday, Dec. 6th at the Springville Inn and will be my last gig with "Duggins Citrus Express Band".

Caleb and his father, Paul Melo,  our drummer, have a few numbers that they play together. So, Ol' Ran was on the drums keeping time for them.

Here's the band for the night. Left to right: Jim Duggins (lead guitar), Paul Melo (drums), Susan (Sooz) Newsome (lead vocalist), Randy Minnick (bass and vocalist), Caleb Melo (steel guitar behind Sooz).

                                                     This is Chuck McGuire from the "Country

                                                      Friends" band sitting in with us. Ol' Ran is

                                                      playing rhythm on Paul's acoustic guitar. 

Ol' Ran the Bassman back at the helm of his late-70's Fender Precision bass. This has always been my "go to" bass. I love this big beauty! The only bass I love more is the fretless Precision bass. I've only seen and played one and it belonged to a friend of mine. It's still in his family as far as I know.

Most folks have run across a double-yolked egg but even Connie and I were amazed when she cut open a hard-boiled egg and found this!

This shows that it's not a "work day" for Princess Abby. It's her day off so she's showing us that warm sun and naps are her friends!

 

Here's the new drone pilot's certificate. I had no such plans to obtain one but certain events lead to getting it. It looks to be a profitable matter. Profit if my friend. Everyone now knows my middle name, too!








Well…..here we are again at the all-too-quickly-used-up end of a perfectly good year. Doesn’t that just sink your rubber duckie?  MAN! I’m not sure that it’s been even a year since I’ve seen a year go by this fast! 2019 whizzed on by quicker than you can dust your horse blanket! 

And, Christmas is just around the corner! Only 1,468,800 seconds until Christmas! Do you know where your Visa card is?!

Cleaning Up: let me tell you, neighbors; this time around, the cleanup for the annual yard sale was an entirely different armadillo. Usually, in about a week or so, we are all tidied up and ready to depart the ranch and head out for a grueling time of long distance travel. That didn’t happen this year. In fact, we weren't sure that we would even be finished cleaning up by the end of this year! Sheese!

It’s not that we are lazy or such (we don’t have time to do even that!). It’s just that, almost simultaneously, there were so many other priorities assailing us. That’s really not a complaint! I’m not sure if anyone can believe it but we were so busy being blessed that we didn’t have time to finish cleaning up!! I kid thee negative! Every time we turned around someone was giving us tons of stuff (we're still inventorying it!)!  

We hauled trailer load after trailer load of good stuff back to the ranch and did the best we could to find a place to store it. Most of it is at the hangar awaiting our attention while other goodies are local. Some will be cleaned and priced for next year’s yard sale while other things will be given away or sold. There are items that could end up on Craig’s List or eBay so we’ll be checking that out, too. 

However, after all this work, there’s still a chance we may not be as deeply involve in next year's yard sale. Perhaps we will just supervise and watch other sell their wares. It's a bit early to tell. 

Anyway, it took until the third week in November to finally get straightened up around here. Even then, we were solely motivated by the fact that we had rain coming in. There were only a couple of days to work with until things were going to get sloshed so we had to put a hustle in our bustle. Do you know just how much hustle two old people have on hand at any given time? We used up a year's supply of hustle in two days! I turn again to my pal,  Charlie Brown, for comment: AAAAAAARGH! 

In those two days, we racked, stacked, packed, and parked, covered, and tarped everything we could in every available place we could find. The Rancho Relaxo twins stuffed all of their blessings in two trailers, the pole barn, the back patio, the barn, the upstairs living room, and the hangar!

At the end of the second day, two really really exhausted old people tumbled into two craters in the bed. The next day, they could hardly even move. You would have thought that both of us were 90 years old or more. It took two weeks to reasonably recover from that track and field event and we’re still a bit goofy yet! Thankfully, “Uncle Bo” (Ibuprophen) was an ever present help in time of need….which was often (PRN).

Droning away: an interesting thing happened on the way to pick up a three trailer loads of free goodies. The guy who gave us what seemed like all of his worldly possessions (actually he only gave us the things that were over the weight limit stipulated by the moving company) is selling his home. A nice real estate agent just happened to be there during one of the trips. So, Ol Curious George asked her if her company used drones to take pictures with. She answered affirmatively but that they no longer had a drone pilot. Well, says the curious one, “I’m a licensed aircraft pilot with a good eye for photography. What do you think if I acquired my drone pilot’s certification?”. She basically stated that she would assure me all the work that she and 50 other agents could throw at me! Guess what? I wasn’t about to duck that proposition! 

Not having looked into the matter before, I was hoping that becoming a drone pilot had a learning curve at least slightly less than qualifying to fly an SR-71. I was right. The old wing nut looked up the qualifications on the FAA’s website and was almost stunned to see how easy this was going to be.

There are two parts to the the matter: training and exam. One is basic airman’s knowledge of weather and aerodynamics. The other was simply “Part 107 Small Unmanned Aircraft Systems” rules and regs. Well, hang on to your old grey bonnet, Lil Liza Jane! Because I already have a valid airman’s certificate (the technical term for “pilot’s license”), the FAA waived the first part altogether! Zowie! That left me with only about 30 minutes of studying the rules and regs. Then, after an open book 35 question test, I printed out the official drone pilot’s certification!  Now,  I are one! Whoooooooo, doggies!!

I looked around quite a bit to find what I thought would be the best dollar value in a drone. The one that should fit the bill is a “Holy Stone HS120D GPS Drone with Camera”. It came in the mail a week ago but (when you see a “but”….this is where things get.… interesting. "Buts" are not our friends)... I don’t have a “smart phone” (the dumb phone has served me quite well, thank you). To see where you are going while you are flying the drone, you need a smart phone.

The Smart Thing To Do: ooookay. I promptly ordered a refurbished iPhone from “Best Buy” for a “C-Note”. However, I am expecting a lot of media attention and huge prize for being the last person in California to own a smart phone. That should compensate for that expenditure. At least the kids and grandkids will no longer be ashamed of some of their old Luddite kinfolks and they’ll no longer drop hints about us living in the stone age (surely they knew that we were there when the “Flintstones” debuted on TV in 1960....BC).  

Once all of these things get glued together, there should be another income stream around the ranch (I’m hoping it will always be overflowing its banks!).

Dinner and a movie: we finally got a….day off! I could have sworn that I heard angels clapping and bells ringing! Well, just what do old people do for R&R? I reckon it’s what they did when they weren’t old. They go out for dinner and a movie, that’s what!

Rancho Ran and Connie the Canner have fairly simple tastes (read: we’re both cheap dates) so dinner was easy enough. We went to the “Olive Garden” in Visalia (the nearest real town) and knocked over their all you can eat soup and salad special. If you consider all things, it was actually less than taking a couple of grand-kids to McDonald's! 

Their spicy Italian sausage soup with hot bread is my favorite and I proved it to them. I think the poor waitress was worn out by the time we left. If she wasn’t worn out, her tennis shoes surely were. We left a decent tip so she wouldn’t think that we were there solely to brutalize the staff.

The movie was one of the few historical movies I thought would be worth watching: “Midway”. As someone who loves WW2 history, I couldn’t wait to see the CGI and also just how closely to history the script would follow.

As expected, the movie was actually pretty good. It did follow the historical timeline quite well. But, if you were not really well acquainted with the history of the “Battle of Midway”, you are sure to get lost on who was doing what to whom as well as when, where, and why.

Other than the CGI being a bit over the top (it was unrealistic, which I fully expected), the action was realistically dramatic. I really enjoyed the flick and only caught a minor flaw in their Japanese aircraft attack (i.e. they included a specific airplane for the attack on Pearl Harbor that wasn't actually used at that time). I did some research later and must commend the producers for having a top notch cast. The acting was superb because the casting was superb. Also appreciated was seeing some humanity added to the enemy combatants. This film was really well done.

Good gravy!: after all of the frolicking on our day off, Thanksgiving Day pounced upon us. That turned out to be….interesting…..too. We had invited two guests to join us and, after the ever-busy Connie made preparations for the large meal, neither guest was able to make it! So, being the two rather adaptable old people that we are, we just decided to relax, feast on our nice dinner, and have a quiet and peaceful time of it. 

To make a long story longer, Connie swamped the table with every imaginable edible including grannie’s good gravy. The T-bird ended up perfectly cooked so we went to town dismembering it. All that was left to do was to fill our plates. I always dig in good sized shovel but usually just scoop out Connie’s mashed potatoes with a backhoe. Being at the top of the food chain has its perks and mashed potatoes and gravy has got to be one of the best of them.

The philosophy for such a supremely nice day was simple enough: "gobble ‘till you wobble then take a nap". We did just that. It was also decided to retire early so there would be enough gas in our tanks to be able to face the morrow. 

Princess Abby Report: did you know that, if you replace one letter in “coon dog”, you have “corn dog”? Did you know that Abby doesn’t mind if I call her my “corn dog”? Now, that, folks, is loyalty, eh?

Abby, the “I leave my owner in constant wonder” dog, is doing great! She’s thriving and happy. When she’s not racing about the ranch, she’s rousting my birds. She receives a good scolding for that. She must think they are play toys from God, or something. At least she doesn’t bring one to me in her mouth expecting praise for her great hunting prowess (yes…that did happen a couple of years ago. Thankfully, the catatonic hen recovered).

I’m still not sure why she still gets treated like a princess, though. Despite “her naughtiness” moods, there’s a never ending supply of doggie treats, tug o’ wars, and petting and scratching. Guess it’s called puppy love or such.  

To the dump, to the dump, to the dump, dump, dump: every now and again we have to load up Wooly Pulley and head to the local dump. It’s actually a “transfer station” since it has been decommissioned by the county. They park a couple of huge containers at the bottom of an embankment and you back up them. You then unload and go about your business.

Well, that’s easy enough to say, eh? Ah, yes; but this is Rancho Relaxo and not everything is as easy as it sounds. For instance, it really is a chore when the trash man is already plumb tuckered out and three naps behind. But, a man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do and this man’s gotta go to the dump.

Some of the chore is prepping the trailer. In this case, it had to be unloaded so that we could re-load it (not unlike a Chinese fire drill). Then you deal with hooking up the trailer. Usually, the trailers are chocked with jack stands so they won’t sneak off without permission. All of the chocks have to be removed along with the jack stands. Once hooked up (which requires more lifting and tugging), then you back up the trailer to the trash cage and begin loading (which is just all kinds of fun when you're already wrecked). After the trailer is loaded, you must cover/tarp the thing or the dump manager will charge you an extra ten bucks for being stupid enough to scatter your garbage all over Tulare county.

When you get to the dump, things are fairly easy. You just back up to the embankment, shove and toss stuff into the large containers, sweep up after yourself, toss the brooms and cans back into the trailer, then go home and park and chock the trailer and unhook it. There was no nap after this go around. Not enough time. UGH.

Gallus Gallus Domesticus Report: the ol' rooster wrangler is proud of himself. He's getting pretty good at the basics of herding chickens again without killing some of them. But, you just never know what’s going to happen when you’re dealing with dumb clucks.

The other day (when lots of things happen around here), the ol’ chicken dude decided to pull the large cage out of the coop. Since we no longer have younger birds, it was decided that it should be out of the coop. The cage, you may recall, is the confine in which we keep the younger birds while they mature enough to be introduced into the general population. It’s also where all 15 birds have elected roost for the night.

So, imagine what happened when the cage was no longer available? Do you think that my dirty birds had the brains to consider walking only a little further back into the coop where three really nice roosting racks were parked? Nope? Then, it should come as no shock that, when the ol’ bird herder went out to shut the door on the coop, there were only two birds in the coop! That there was a real “ding-a-dang” moment!

What before my two old eyes should appear but 13 birds roosting here and there. Some were on the ground and some on the bales. Some were on the barrels but most were on the….CAGE….which was next to the dog house! Charlie Brown had it right when he hollered, “RATS!”. My lightning fast mind dryly advised, “That was brilliant, Ran”.

It was time to start wrangling the feather brained beasts so they wouldn’t drown in the rain that was coming that night. The good news is that they were in their evening “chicken torpor” so were easy to catch and replant.

What you do is pleasantly engage them by speaking chickenese so they know you’re a “friendly”. Then you slowly and gently but firmly grip them and began to speak good things to them about their mother (we all know that mother hens are held in high regard). A few more clucks and a few strokes of their feathers and they settle down for the trip to the new perch. I had to do that 13 times. *SIGH*.

Of course, that meant that the cage had to be moved further away and laid down so that the my gooney bird collection wouldn’t try to mount it again. That worked for exactly…one day.

The next night, they weren’t to be found on the cage. Instead, they were scattered all over the place again! That meant another round of rounding up chickens in the dark. Out-thunk by the chickens again. Swell!

Well, Ol’ Captain Jean-Luc Retard had an answer to this pluck-a-cluck mess. The birds were all safely locked up for the night. Instead of being released in the mornings, they are being kept there for a few days until their “clock” is reset and they understand that they are to go inside the coop instead of parking out in the rain (reckon their mother hen forgot to train them to do that).

There you have it: another short episode of the long happenings at Rancho Relaxo, home of Rancho Ran, the world's foremost authority (the previous one died) and Connie the Canner, the world's greatest side-cook (a Freudian slip as she stumbled trying to say "side-kick"): where the air smells like sweat and elbow grease: where things can get...interesting and where...you just never know. Good night, Mrs. Calabash, wherever you are. 

Rancho Sell-o Mucho

Here's a shot of a really handy gadget. This is Quatro, our 250cc Honda quad-ATV and latest addition to the rancho tool collection. One of our clients passed away and his widow gave it to us. She's about a puller, let me tell you! She's hooked to Woolly Pully which has a load of goods for the yard sale.

This is early Thursday evening prior to the Friday 8AM kick off. Everyone is tidied up and ready to go! There was a slight chance of rain which is why the canopies were hunkered down.

Here's Abby, the official yard sale greeter. She did just exactly that and had a great time! She's just doing a little bit of eyeball patrolling from a position of rest at this time. A good coon dog has to conserve energy, don'tcha know.









Below and to the right are a few shots of the stuff we are setting up. We had 25 tables out this year!

All of this is our stuff and there's more that you can't see!! 

To the right is Leanne's goods. She owns all four
canopies in the picture. We even have a saddle maker from Montana down at the end of the row near the road!









                                                                                                                                                          Looking north from the middle of the driveway and toward the house. In the background is some of our goodies. We sold a lot of stuff! But, we also bought a few things! Things are our friends!

This is the "Duggins Citrus Express" band playing a gig at Fountain Springs. They recently remodeled the place and we were part of the kick off celebration. It used to be "El Tapatio" (same El Tap chain as in P'ville). The place really looks great now! Ol' Bass Man Ran is on the end. I play lead guitar for another band a couple of times per month at "Golden Hills" in P'ville. It helps to keep the rust off the old fingers.

Well...it's November 2019! Doesn't that make you want to hock your Barbie Doll Collection?! And, it's only a few weeks until Christmas and the Ol' Rancher is still working on getting ready for last spring! That just burns my cheesy grits. Moving along.....

Hello, Sell-o!: we just finished the big yard sale. Man!! Talk about being BEAT! We can hardly move! By the time we got to bed on Sunday night, we didn't have the strength to fluff our pillows. We just fell down on the bed, made two craters, and slept in them until sometime the next morning.

More than two weeks after ending, we are still not finished packing up stuff and moving it out of the way! That has never happened before! Usually, we're cleaned up and gone in less than two weeks and down the road for a vacation. Here we are three weeks later and still have a lot of cleanup to do! We're mighty close to going full Hawaiian and changing the name of the place to "Rancho Gonna-Take-A-Nappa". Hand me a flowery print shirt and pass the pineapples, please!

We did well again this year so I suspect that the extra income will provide a reasonable salve to our joints, muscles, teeth, eyeballs, brains, backs, and depleted souls. Let us hope so; the tanks are empty.

There's a reasonable expectation that we may be able to take some time off this spring (if the old people aren't busy cleaning). However, we may yet defer from that if we aren't fully recovered and don't feel like we can handle the task. This is also to say that, because of the extreme taxation of the old folks, we decided not to go on vacation this year at all. There simply wasn't enough spizzerinctum left to even mop our sweaty brows. But, we do miss the kids and grand-cuties and all. So, we'll see. 

This actually may be the last year that we do anything but supervise. As much fun as it is, it's still a tremendous work load for three or even four weeks in a row; that takes a lot of helium out of your blimp, let me tell you! I think that next year we will probably provide the pulled pork and coffee, haul out the lounge chairs, and just take pictures of the event. 

Rancho Buy-O: this gigantic sale is also a great place for the sellers to pick up a few super deals. This year, I picked up a like-new $300+ pallet jack for 150 dollars. That'll come in handy for moving the big dog house and the big chicken coop that have sat in one place for far too long. And, I just picked up a dozen FREE pallets so I can now shuffle pallets around during my free time, eh? I've been needing a pallet jack for a long time and now there's one on hand! 

Then, I got more than 500 dollars worth of camping equipment including a NIB (new in the box) dual burner Coleman stove and another NIB single burner stove along with a number of fuel bottles that go with them. There were two more used (but in good shape) dual-burner stoves and two more used smaller single-burner stoves with propane bottles. Add to that a new small propane lantern, a large bundle of new tent stakes, a fold-able camping saber saw, two new small flashlights, a new small battery powered lantern ,and a Shakespeare open face ultra-light spin cast rig. One cool item was a new portable camping shower. That could come in handy but I still prefer a dip in the creek. The entire tab was...hang on to your new Easter bonnet, Aunt Bea.....30 dollars!  I was so excited I was fumbling my fricatives! I need a day off so I can go camping!

The next day was also a great day for fabulous deals. I picked up a NIB $250.00 39cc motor and hardware kit to convert a bicycle to a moped. Price? 50 dollars! Love it! I'll use it on my standard size red and white Schwinn (NEW for 60.00 at a yard sale). I have two 50cc motors and conversion kits for a bikes but I need the bigger cruiser beach bikes since these are too much power for a standard bike.The new moped will make a great mate for the blue and white Schwinn Meridian Honda powered "Ranch Rocket" we have.

Other goodies from the sale include more than $200 worth of fishing lures and tackle for..... $20.00. There was a ton of expensive flies included and a great deal of the other tackle and lures was still in the original blister packs. That'll work (but, I still need a day off so I can go fishing)! 

Rancho Rafto Report: well...we're moving along with getting the Rancho Rafto in the water (we figured that, if we waited any longer, we'd have a museum piece). The registration is updated and the stickers are glued on so that's out of the way. Also, now on hand are all of the grease, a grease gun, and gear oil required to do the maintenance on the boat. It even got a nice bath with the "Troy Bilt" pressure washer so it no longer looks like it once belonged to Huck Finn. It was running fine when I bought it so it's unlikely that there will be any difficulties. But, if there are, I'll just apply my most experienced screwdriver and deal with it. Now all I need is a ....day off....so I can go float the thing while the lake still has a few gallons of water left in it (it's almost "Stuck Duck Pond" again).

Princess Abby Report:  now that there's a pallet jack on hand, the Ol' Dude was able to move Abby's palatial pooch hooch away from the back patio. It was in the way so it was moved out toward the chicken coop. The bloody thing weighs about 400 lbs and it isn't going anywhere without lots of leverage and no small amount of muscle on hand. Since the Ol' Rancher is not the brawny young fella that he used to be, the muscle was provided by the ATV (ATV's are our friends!). Since the house sits on a pallet, it was simple enough to use the pallet jack and tug it into place with the ATV. Abby hasn't protested yet so I guess she's OK with deal. I can usually get her to agree on just about anything with a doggie treat of some kind. 

Zorba’s: the other day (when lots of things happen around here), we had to go to Shafter (about an hour from us) to see the FAA ME (medical examiner). It's one of the last steps (if not the last step) in getting my flight medical restored. Since Bakersfield is not all that far from Shafter, we decided to head down there and knock over one our favorite burger joints, Zorba's. Zorba is probably a Greek word that is transliterated as "The food tastes better than the place looks". In any case, it's our "go to" burger and fries shop.

Zorba's was already one of the favorite burger places of Don and Shirley Gerber who are the band leaders for the "Cedar Grove Bluegrass Band" (now based in Apple Valley). They introduced yours truly to the place back in '98 as we traveled up and down the state pickin' and grinnin'. I've been a fan since then and go as often as I can (which is not often enough!).

We got there in time for a burger combo for Connie the Canner and a pastrami combo for the hungry rancher. Boy, howdy! Good stuff! My only complaint is that pastrami makes me fill good air with bad noises. C'est la vie, eh?

If you are ever in the Oildale area and have a hankerin' for some really good vittles, stop by at their North Chester location (just north of Norris Road) and dig in! You won't be sorry (and, you don't have to speak Greek)!

Chickenin' Report: our girls are big and beautiful now and are doing great!! Once again, we have a constant supply of fresh, organic, free range eggs and are back in the swing of being spoiled at breakfast times! Few things are as rich and delicious as our eggs (pardon my crowing)!

Since we spent time with them as chicks, they are much tamer than the others. We spoil them a bit from time to time by hand feeding them stale bread and such. They get lots and lots of left overs, too. Their day starts with a round of chicken scratch when they are turned loose in the morning. If their scratch isn't ready, they come looking of me!

Ol' Roo is still cock o' the walk and takin' care of business around the barnyard. He's definitely the barnyard boss. I love this big guy to pieces! You couldn't ask for a better rooster if you had ordered one from a Sears catalog. He's protective of his feathery female followers and keeps them in line at all times.

There you have it: another short episode of the long happenings at Rancho Relaxo, home of Rancho Ran, the world's foremost authority (the previous one died) and Connie the Canner, the world's greatest side-cook (a Freudian slip as she stumbled trying to say "side-kick"): where the air smells like fried free-range eggs, bacon, toast, and 40:1 mix blue gas: where things can get...interesting and where...you just never know.