AUGUSTO CON GUSTO

 I've gotta tell yuh, when I saw this chunk of orange sitting where "Coleman's" used to sit, I was rather miffed. One of the last tangible connections to a lot of great memories disappeared overnight. Sure, I know that the only thing that is consistent in life is "change". But, I don't have to like it. There was no opportunity to experience one last steak sandwich and batch of hot fries. I'll be bummed for awhile then I'll get over it.

NOTE: click on the pics to enlarge them

This big beauty is the Peruvian zapolla squash plant. It has taken over the south half of the #3 garden box. Its fruit can weigh more than 25 kilos each! We won't want for squash around here any time soon! That's especially when you consider the other dozen squash varieties that are planted. Squashies are our friends! 

Speaking of "friends", this is my newly found friend, Mr. King Snake. The little guy got all caught up in the bird netting near the garden boxes and got himself wound up in it and couldn't escape. Thankfully, Abbie the coon, 'possum, fuzzer/squirrel, frog, lizard, gopher, chicken, snake dog was on the alert and directed my attention to it before it just up and died (like the rattlesnake did not long ago). It took about 15 minutes to untangle the gorgeous brown and white reptile but it was worth it. He was set free out in the "back 40". 

This is interesting. This is the first year that this little peach tree got serious about granting a real harvest of fruit. Then, to spite me, it loaded one limb so heavily that it snapped. if that doesn't make you walk like an Egyptian, the Stellar Jays have damaged and otherwise wrecked at least half the good fruit. Though they are still ripening, the peaches are soft enough for the birds to peck into and ruin. We'll still get a handful of peaches....I hope. 

This is what happens when you don't pay attention at Rancho Relaxo. It's especially true when you have, for whatever reason, a yard full of deep grass (or, in our case, deep green leafy stuff consisting of thousands of varieties of vegetation some of which is probably lawn grass). This is the big "Craftsman" GT3000 getting jacked up so the Ol' Rancher  (who had nothing else to do on this 100 degree day) could untangle and detach his bloody garden hose from the mower blades. Way....to....go....Ran. 

Here's your heavy lifting helicopter for the day. This big baby worked for at least three days hauling water from the lake and local ponds to the fire up  the hill on Bear Creek Road east of SCICON. This is the venerable Sikorsky CH-54/S-64. 

To the right is the restaurant at the "Central Fish Market" at 1535 Kern St in Fresno. We went there for lunch after getting Connie the Canner's wrist fixed at the "Sierra Orthopedic Center". I've been dining here for decades because it's one of the best Japanese food places in town and it has its own atmosphere that makes it special. What makes it noteworthy on this day is that no one is here! It's the first time ever (since 1983) that I've been there and had the place to myself. I didn't think anyone would believe me because the place is always bustling with customers. So, I took a picture (several, actually) as proof

Well, we do call them "dirty birdies for a reason; they take dirt baths. Under one of our plum trees near garden box #1, is one of wallows they haunt. You can see one of the Wyandottes, one of the Rhode Island Reds, two Barred Rocks, "Roo", the Rhode Island Red rooster, and lil' Chick-a-Dee (in the right foreground). She catches on quickly and takes to the dirt like a pro.  

This particular dirty birdie is on Connie the Canner's black list and may want to duck because she's also on Connie the Cooker's menu. The dumb cluck excavated most of the planter's contents including the geraniums. If that isn't enough to starch your booties, she also whacked another large potted plant nearby this one. Connie shooed her away. We're pretty sure she said, "Cluck you!" when she left. If she does that again, there'll be an extra four pounds of fresh protein added to our diet. 

Chick-a-Dee is now on her own. Broody Mae stopped being a mother hen a few days ago so she's taking care of herself. She's a bit skittish still because she's the smallest of the herd and can't stand up against the big biddies. Oh, but she will, in time. It's amazing to see how big she has gotten in so short a time. We fully expect her to follow the big girls into the coop at night but, until then, she's sleeping in the apple tree. 

Here's faithful watch hound, Abbie, practicing her ear-to-the- concrete "listening for the enemy" posture. No enemy has ever snuck up on Rancho Relaxo. 

Here she is once again practicing her famous security protocol. 

Here she is again but wallowing in the chicken's dirt bath digs. Our hope is that she isn't going to identify as a chicken. We could probably use the eggs but this really won't work for me. 

This is Abbie again but hiding in the tall grass and under a large zapolla squash plant. You know, she may actually be getting some idea of how security works. If she stays still, she's almost undetectable. No bad guys can fool my pooch! She's alert and ready (and staying cool in the shade while she's at it). 

Well! Besa mi mucho! It’s August…already! It’s only 145 days until Christmas! Can’t we just reopen the roller rinks?!

All is still well here at the rancho. Oh, yes; things are still “moving along” here at a brisk pace. Our pace doesn’t seem to be subject to wind or weather. If it picks up any more, we’ll need to wear jetpacks on our backs! Wahoo!

The good news is, excepting Connie the Canner’s broken wrist and some minor issues with gophers and such, we are really blessed and things are peaceful here. She has a follow up appointment in about a month then another surgery scheduled in about six months. The wound is healing well and the swelling has gone down significantly though not as much as we had hoped. Range of motion is still limited but she's doing hand exercises which help maintain mobility. 

She's able to do light-to-medium house work and I help with the heavier stuff, of course. It's surprising to see how much she has recovered and how much she can do.  

Dishing the Dirt or Dust on the Saddle: if there’s one thing that our region has in abundance of, it’s dirt and dust. There’s so much of it that we’ve started calling the thick layer of dust found on the entirety of our computers, cars, cats, and canines, “Springville insulation”.

Now, computer dudes have never cottoned to having dust in their habitat. That’s largely because it’s unsightly and unhealthy and because computers are really expensive air filters that collect an unbelievable amount of dust (and cat hair, human hair, dog hair, and, if one is available, Yeti hair).

So, you can imagine what was going through the Ol’ Grand Exhausted ‘Puter Poobah’s mind when he started noticing that his shop wasn’t going to pass the “white glove” test any time soon! There was dust everywhere! This is a significant revelation because there are two large healthy “Honeywell” air purifiers on top of one of my large computer stations. They are on duty 24/7 and are supposed to be on top of dust suppression around here and have been doing a great job so far. The placement is purposely up high for efficiency sake.  

A quick consultation with Connie the Housekeeper was in order. She looked into my pretty brown eyes (she says I have pretty brown eyes) and said, “Did you clean the filters?”. My response was immediate: “Er…uh….I uh….well, uh …no, uh. I didn’t”. Being merciful and not wanting me to run out of stumbling while mentally searching for a good lie to use as an excuse, she asked, “When was the last time you cleaned them?”. My response was immediate: “Er…uh….I uh….well, uh…I don’t recall”. Well, there you have it. There was no guessing what (unexpected) project would be eating up the next hour of my precious time.

The big 33 gallon “Craftsman” air compressor in the barn was kicked on and the air hose and the long barreled nozzle were attached (in the heat). The two big dust and lint collectors were hauled out onto the back porch (in the heat) where they were disassembled and the filters removed. Holy moly!! Those things were filled to the brim with dirt and the pre-filter sponge covers were completely caked!! They must have been ignored much longer than had been thought (which makes sense given that the Ol’ Rancher has a masters degree in ignoring things).

After being blasted clean (in the heat), they were reassembled (in the heat) and replaced on their high station in the shop (in the cool). They are no longer dust shifters; they are dust filters. You can bet that ramped up the rancher’s mood a notch or two.

The astute will notice that none of this took an hour. However, after disconnecting, hauling, disassembling, cleaning, re-hauling, reassembling, and re-stationing them (while mostly in the heat), it took the remainder of time for the ol’ compressor jockey to recover from the abuse.

!@#$%^& or &^%$#@!: Once in awhile "stupid" will walk onto the ranch and grab ahold of the first person it sees. This time, it was Ol' Ran the Lawn Mower Man. He’s the guy who is experienced driving everything from a lawn tractor to the nimble John Deere 860 and 860A self-loading scrapers and the big Westinghouse LeTourneau WABCO 222F and 222G 22 yard self-loading scrapers.

After making a (too quick) pass around the yard to curl a hose and check for small sticks, small stones, and small children (the grass was pretty high that day), Ol' Ran kicked the tires and lit the fires on the big healthy 26HP Kohler powered “Craftsman” GT3000 lawn tractor. About three-fourths of the way around the yard on the first pass, the big tractor stumbled, started groaning and making ugly noises, then stopped dead in its tracks all in about 3 seconds. My lightning-fast mind said, "Well, this can't be good".

It didn't even take a full dismount to see a hint of light blue hiding deep in the grass. It was.... the other hose. I wondered what happened to it and now I know. It had been lurking in the deep grass until it could spring up and wrap itself around two of the three blades on the mower. That left me with the large chore of clearing up the tangle (large chores are not my friends when it's 103 degrees outside).

The tractor had to be jacked up and the hose had to be unwound. After about 20 minutes in the blazing sun, the hose was freed from the blades. Of course, the 50' hose had been whacked and shortened by about four feet. The cut loose section just needs to be spliced back to the main hose. Thanks, Ran. *SIGH*

ECHO Model SRM-266 or Eatin’ weeds on purpose: Some time ago (but longer the other day and longer than not long ago), the big rancho ECHO weed eater bit the dust (when it should have been eating weeds). Its operator was been able to get by using alternative means until he could no longer find an excuse to not buy another one.

After deciding it was time, the Ol’ Rancher and his side kook moseyed on down to Porterville Agri-Home to talk the owner/manager/friend, Corie, into selling us another one. Since the homework on which one to purchase had already been completed, it was a piece of cake to convince her of the one we wanted and to assure her that the ink was dry on our cash. She pulled it off the wall rack and had one of the mechanics give it a “first run” for us as we handed over the bills. In no time at all we were headed back to the rancho to put the new power tool to work.

When we got home, it was put straight to work despite the mid-day heat. The ECHO worked so well that it was difficult to stop. So, the old farmhand didn’t stop but just keep on knocking down the weeds until the front yard no longer looked like it had been leased by the Adams Family.

The yard looked great but there was a ton of muscles that were screaming and rebelling the next day. The sting of the sunburn on my face helped to distract me from the pain.

 Okra: it’s what’s for dinner or “Pass me the okra and nobody gets hurt!”: Our okra is finally starting to bless us with the rewards of our labors. After a few cuttings, there was enough of a harvest to whomp up a mess of fried okra so it was added to the evening meal.

After coating it with cornmeal, it was promptly tossed into a skillet with a couple of tablespoons of melted bacon grease in it. Let me tell you, neighbor! That there is some good eatin’! This is one okra lover that can hardly wait until the next harvest comes around so that he can do it again…and again! Okra is my friend!

If you decide to try this at home, remember to just use cornmeal (no flour; nein; nyet; nada) and to always use lard or bacon grease if you want the authentic “Okie” okra flavor and want the okra to “speak to you” (speak to your tongue, actually). If you really want to knock your culinary socks off, add a skillet full of fried “taters” to the meal (if you use potatoes, I will hunt you down and ‘splain the difference!). And, if your main dish is beans and bacon or beans and ham hocks, you will smile so much that, if you weren’t stop-drilled at the ears, you’d smile the top of your head off!

Well....there you have it: another short episode of the long happenings at Rancho Relaxo: home of Rancho Ran, the world's foremost authority (the previous one died): home of the Yo-Yo Twins, home of a retarded duck, home of Connie the Canner (world's greatest side-kook): where the air smells, where alliteration reigns supreme, where being modern is optional, where there are no slaves to fashion, where things can get...interesting, where it’s all news to me, and where...you just never know.   

 

 

 

RANCHO JULIO CALIENTE

 

You just know that, with all of the "fuzzers" running around here, that Abbie would get around to catching another one. This one is a bit different. The next door neighbor had a  leftover 6' section of 4" PVC pipe next to her house. Abbie, not ever caring just when or where she trees, found a naughty brown fuzzer (daring to traverse here sacred doggie territory) hiding in the old drain pipe. The baying began which, of course, alerted the Ol' Fuzzer Hater who has long since learned to distinguish a bark from a bay. Sho' nuff, Abbie had treed again. Ah, but she added a twist. She dragged the 6' pipe over to her turf so as to have legal jurisdiction (it should be supposed). Legal or not, I grabbed the water hose, tilted the pipe up and cut loose with the high pressure spray. With no where to go but down and out, the brown bane instantly fell  prey to Abbie the Fuzzer Conqueror. Just look at her    proud look: the look of victory. This is the second victory in two weeks. 

 It's fire season around these parts so it isn't any surprise to the various and sundry fire fighting aircraft. During a recent fire, the venerable Sikorsky S-64/CH-54 "Sky Crane" was employed. As it has many times before during other fires, it flew over our place. It is America's largest helicopter and hails from 1960. Though we see them regularly here, there were only 31 of them built. Many of the remaining ones are used for fire fighting because they have a lifting capacity of 20,000 pounds. 

Here's  newly hatched "Chick-a-Dee" hopping up on momma's back. She squatted and he hopped right up and had absolutely no problem doing so! I had not seen that before! Broody Mae is doing a great job of mothering! 

   

 Here's a shot of Connie the Canner's wrist after she fell from a small stool in the kitchen. The lateral displacement is obvious. It was a very painful and nasty compression fracture of the distal radius bone. The ulna seems to not have been affected. The X-ray is below and shows the negative and reverse view. No volley ball for awhile, eh? 

She's recovering from surgery very rapidly and with only minimal use of analgesics. Physical therapy is in the works.

    

These are the flowers the fam sent to Connie. She greatly appreciated them! 

                  

The rain that we got in April knocked most of the blossoms off our plum trees (making us plumb mad). Nevertheless, though two of our trees failed to produce, the other two have enough to satisfy our need for plums. These are plumb pretty and are right juicy! 

Grandson, Jeff, sauntering through the Fresno Air Terminal baggage area. This is his first trip to CA since he was a youngster. His timing was excellent because he missed the heat! It had been fairly warm but the temps stayed in the 90's while he was here (but quickly rose after he left). We had four days of having a great time of food, fellowship, and travel. We'll do this again! 

This ol' taco tucker hasn't knocked over a taco truck in awhile and Jeff had never had the chance to do so. My experience has shown that some of the best Mexican food comes from these trucks. So, we found this mobile restaurant parked at the "Mountain View Market" in the Three Rivers area. After a couple of combo plates, we were back on our way to the "big trees" in the "Sequoia National Forest". No mas hambre. 

This is the entrance way to the "General Sherman" giant Sequoia tree. It's the largest tree in the world. It's a once-in-a-lifetime sight for many people. 

  Proof! We were almost stunned to see so many people helping each other take pictures. The Korean/Japanese folks seemed to be amazed at how total strangers were so quick to help them, too! They were digging it!

What you are seeing (bottom right hand of the vines) is not a chicken with its neck hung up in a grape vine. And, it isn't a magical hovering chicken. It's a hen that's leaping up and snatching my beautiful huge clusters of ripening grapes!! Zounds! We've been robbed! There were more than a dozen gorgeous almost-ripe grape bunches hanging across the entire front of the pumphouse and around the sides. Within a couple of days, I couldn't help but notice that most of them were gone! I suspected the ground squirrels but was still scratching my head when I saw this little feathery berry robber continually hopping up and helping herself to a free meal of grapes. We almost had fried chicken on the menu that night!  Next season will find some sort of netting in place so that all of the hard work isn't in vain. 

         

 

It’s July and it’s past the halfway point of the year! Doesn’t that just knock over your outhouse?! If the clock doesn’t slow down, the next “Rancho Relaxo” blog could be December’s edition! 58 years ago, the “Safari’s” gave us “Wipeout!” (I can still play it on the guitar).

The heat is on around here. It was 106 today, it'll be 109 tomorrow, and 111 on Sunday. Muy caliente! Success Lake is lookin' mighty good! 

Gimme a break! Or: It's all in the wrist: Pursuant to the rat race around here, Connie (recently) lost balance and fell off of a small wooden stool. Seems that something important was hiding in the cabinet above the refrigerator. When she unintentionally trusted her life to gravity, she instinctively stuck her arm out to break her fall and straight-armed the floor; it broke the fall but also broke her wrist. A quick look at her wrist revealed that it was malformed and it was noticeably painful (of course). It wasn't just a dislocation.

Long story short, X-rays revealed a nasty compression fracture of the distal radius with lateral displacement of the wrist. Short story longer: she was referred to Sierra Orthopedic in Fresno where they scheduled her for surgery the following Friday.

Fast forward to that next Friday: eight screws (!) and two plates later, she's fine and recovering from the repair and from the carpal tunnel reduction. She's doing well and in only relatively light pain which is mitigated by the prescribed “NORCO”. The good news is that she only requires half doses but does keep an ice pack close and stays relatively still so as not to aggravate the wrist (nobody likes an aggravated wrist). Update: she’s now getting by on minimal doses of Ibuprophen (400mg every four hours) and an occasional Tramadol. She’ll save the heavy hitting meds for times of physical therapy if they're needed. Otherwise, we won't sweat the next toothache.

Ol’ Ran the Canner Man? Or “Them maters won’t wait”: What do you do when the head canning lady is out of whack and can’t tackle and can the load of tomatoes that were just harvested? Well, you can give them all away and just buy “Del Monte”, I suppose. But, this is Rancho Relaxo and you just know we're not going to do that. So, Ol' Ran the Canner Man strapped on his apron (not the one that says "Superman" on it. That one's for BBQ's) and set himself to follow advice from the resident professional.

 We teamed up on the Romas and had them parboiled, pealed, and canned in no time at all. It was an enjoyable experience what with it being the first time at canning (I've watched a lot, though). A few days later, after another tomato harvest (the squash and okra are next), we parboiled then diced them and rehearsed the mater matter and canned many more maters...uh huh. This also goes to show you that even a  beginning canner can do well when getting help from a pro.

Over the hills and through the woods: Some of California’s splendor abides in the “Sequoia National Forest” and adjacent “Kings Canyon National Forest”. Connie the Canner and the Ol’ Rancher have been to these forests but our grandson, Jeff, has not. He’s from the “land of green” in Washington state near the Canadian border (you know: where it’s actually green year-round). So, we took him to see the “big trees”.

Without controversy, for those who live farther away, it may easily be a once-in-a-lifetime event to get to see these trees; how much more so when it’s the “General Sherman” tree? It’s the largest tree on earth and it’s an easy day-trip from here (albeit, 78 mostly-winding miles).

We walked almost a half-mile down to the “General Sherman” giant Sequoia tree (the short cut is reserved for the handicapped parking and tour busses). The old dude didn’t do too badly. Jeff is 21 years old and in good shape and a distance runner. Me? I’m OK and in decent shape (for the shape I’m in) and wasn’t terribly short of breath (other than the altitude). The only advantage he had over the old dude was that he could walk and talk at the same time. Ol’ Grandad listened a lot and was glad chewing gum wasn't involved.

 Once there, we were somewhat surprised at the amazingly short line of tourists awaiting their turn to get the picture taken in front of the mightiest tree in the world. We thought there would be more since it was Friday! When it was our turn, the guys behind us volunteered to take our pictures. When finished, we reciprocated and took pictures of them. We departed soon afterward lest we die of fun poisoning.

We exited the park by way of the northern route. Though longer, it has far fewer acute turns and is an easier drive. It was decided to just drive to Fresno on Highway 180 to see the changes and improvements along that route. The drive wasn't regretted at all but it did tax the old explorer a bit more than expected. It was good to get home so we could un-lax.

Gopher Wars: Well, the Ol’ Rancher is winning…sort of. At least I’m up a few rounds this time. The other day (when lots of things happen around here), two fresh gopher holes were noticed out back (as if  large fresh mounds of dirt could not be noticed); it was time to get into war mode. So far, the only effective weapon has been the high pressure hose. Some folks have had good luck using traps but that just doesn't seem to fit the bill around here (though it's still being investigated as to what is being done wrong). The hose was quickly engaged and the first hole was opened up to expose the enemy.

Using a hose can be time consuming since it doesn't always work and because you don't always find the right tunnel (though usually so). Plus, you just never know where the stupid furry bugger is going to be even though it's a fresh hole. This time the gopher's luck ran out.

 The first hole was lower than the other so the gushing hose was shoved in. The tunnel cleared quickly and a ton of (irrigation ditch) water gushed in. Nada. So, the higher hole a few feet away was assaulted. Again, the high pressure water made quick work of the obstruction/dam in the hole. Water poured in and nothing seemed to happen until a dark colored soaking wet critter started to squiggle and almost swim out of the hole. Would you like to guess who was standing by ready for a little action? You bet! Abbie the Wander Dog. Scratch one California Pocket Gopher. 

Rat-a-tat!: Speaking of our beloved coon dog, Abbie the Wandering Wonder Dog, never ceases to create some sort of adventure or excitement around the ranch. The other day (when lots of things happen around here), she treed Rancho Hondo, the ranch ATV. My lightning-fast mind figured that one of the local field mice or lizards had taken refuge from the heat or was looking for a place to build a nest in the innards of our four-wheeled handy hauler.

Yet again, the handiest gadget at such a time is the trusted water hose. With a quick and mighty squirt from the high-pressure nozzle, out came a big ol’ rat! The large gray presumptuous rodent never had a chance. Abbie – 1; nasty ugly rata – 0.

Sub "Sonic": This ol’ hamburger stalker has eaten at (at least) five "Sonics" in four states (Texas, Kansas, Oklahoma, California) and have had pretty much the same experience each time: mediocre food and utterly lousy fries and/or tots. This time, in Kingsburg (about 20 min. south of Fresno), was no different.

 We had just made the long drive (about 95 miles) from the "General Sherman" tree and were tired and hungry after the trip. And, we were still another 65 miles from home. So, since Jeff had never eaten at a "Sonic", we pulled into the one in Kingsburg with a sore case of the "hongries" .Everything went downhill from there.

Everyone made their order with my order being the big cheeseburger combo meal with their specialty "tots".  For whatever reason, merely ordering was a major chore. Then, after ordering, we noticed that the other cars also had orders that were being straightened out. When our order arrived (in a reasonable time), we had to have it straightened out (and even then it wasn't fully correct but we let it go). But, it was the food that made things even worse. 

The burger was mediocre ("fair to middling" won't even cut it); it was just "blah": a real "nothing burger" and nothing to write home about other than to explain how bad it was and how chintzy the meat patty was (the price wasn't chintzy!). But, it was the wretched "tots" that wrecked my Rambler. The request was for "fresh tots" so that they would be hot and crispy. Instead, potato "things" showed up: not hot and not crispy: not flavorful and not enjoyable. And, they were exactly like the five other servings of (not) "tots". They were dead spuds; duds. After trying Connie's cold barely-cooked fries, I was convinced that we should have gone to "Taco Belch". This may have been the worst over-all dollar value fast-food meal ever encountered.

To be fair, Jeff enjoyed his chicken sandwich. However, without even trying their chicken sandwich, I'll first drive out of my way to get to "Popeye's" or "Chik-fil-a" and leave "Sonic" in my rearview mirror.

I think the icing on the cake was when the cook came out to use the public restroom (at the back of the store). The guy took up camp in there! Jeff had to use the restroom and waited and waited and waited. He'd been in there so long that we thought we'd have to call 911. 

Upon arriving back home, it seemed reasonable to look up the satisfaction rating for "Sonic" drive ins. It wasn't a real stunner to find that it was a "3" on a scale of 5. What is sad is that that was the average rating for all of the "Sonics" in our part of the state! Not one was higher than 3. One guy posted: "I rarely come out and say a restaurant sucks but I think I have to make an exception for "Sonic". I keep giving them new chances but I think I'm done trying to "make it work". Five chances is fair enough for me, too; I'm done. 

Can you dig it?: Connie has done a great job of planting flowers in her garden boxes that are on both the front porch and back patio. But, there's a problem. Our dirty birds seem to find great pleasure in excavating the planters. That won't work. For one thing, they've broken several of her really nice planter pots. For another, they actually dig out the flowers! 

One silly bird even tried to make a nest in one of the larger boxes up front. Connie shooed her off but not without the goofy biddy complaining that she was just trying to lay an egg (you don't speak "Chickenese"?). It's getting to be rather tiresome to have to sweep or hose off the front porch day after day. We're looking for options. We may hang bird netting on both sides of the railing. But, in any case, if these dirty birds don't change their excavating ways, they may be taken off the "protected species" list. "Pass the salt please". 

Well....there you have it: another short episode of the long happenings at Rancho Relaxo: home of Rancho Ran, the world's foremost authority (the previous one died): home of the Yo-Yo Twins, home of a retarded duck, home of Connie the Canner (world's greatest side-kook): where the air smells, where alliteration reigns supreme, where being modern is optional, where there are no slaves to fashion, where things can get...interesting, where it’s all news to me, and where...you just never know.   

          

RANCHO GUERRERO - THE WAR IS ON!

                                                               

This is our broody barred rock hen whose new name is "Broody Bird". She's been nesting for three weeks. Her former name was "Dirty bird".  We should start hearing tiny "cheeps" any day now. A second barred rock just started her brooding; her name is "Eggy Sue".           

             

 This is Connie the Canner's new "Pfister"  kitchen sink faucet. It fits the newish sink very well. Ol' Plumber Ran (as in, "Plumb,    plumb, plumb: plumb plumber Ran" -  thank you "Beach Boys"!) grabbed his plumbing tools and installed it while he was thinking of something constructive to do on his....day off. 

          

Some folks may think that this is a laser death ray meant to counter the gopher threat around here (thank you, Mel Booth, who keeps up with the happenings at Rancho Relaxo). While this big beautiful expresso maker has yet to be converted into a really cool weapon, it truly does look like it has been swiped from the guts of Doctor Zarkov's rocket ship. 

Of course, it's a yard sale find (but you already knew that). These "Klarstein" Passionata espresso makers retail for 375.00. The nice lady at the yard sale (who buys then sells pallets of stuff from Target) wanted 25 bucks for it. As I was pondering where to store my other (cheapie) espresso maker, she said, "You can have it for 20 dollars". I took the deal and resolved to grapple with any storage issues later. It makes a very good cup of  coffee. 

                                                I really want this sign!

                                                                                        

                                                                         

This is the sneaky snake that thought that he could sneak past my coon dog's nose. Didn't happen! This is one of three rattlesnakes that were killed within two weeks. The first two lost their heads to a shovel and the third one with a .22 pistol. I had just been rustling a large tarp and pulling it out of the way for the chickens so they could get some bugs (free extra protein). A few minutes later, Abbie was going crazy at the same place but was standing back. Since she isn't afraid of anything, that got my attention. Sure, enough, it was rattler in the same spot. That could have been interesting.  Connie started cautioning me that I needed to don my boots when outside. She was advised that I was wearing special "Crocks" and that they would protect me. She just looked at me and said, "What a crock!"

                                                    

 When we show up at a yard sale with the Coop deVille II and  Wooley  Pully in tow, they know we mean business!

This is a shiny new foal at the "TLC Quarter Horses Ranch" near us. Owner, MaryAnn Fererro, was giving us the cook's tour after we finished some computer work for her. It's great to have neighbors like we have! Connie loves her new little equine friend! Stop by her FB page and take a look around!!

TLC Quarter Horses-MaryAnn Ferrero  

                                                                            Here's the newly repaired Rancho Hondo ATV. I missed this little workhorse! I can now get quite a bit more work done than I could do when it's broke down (at least my days off will be fewer and farther apart). 

 

Connie the Canner made this for the Ol' Rancher the other day. It's skillet-fried biscuit bread and I'm here to tell you, neighbor, that it is some mighty fine eatin'! It's your basic biscuit but fried in a large skillet with a tad of bacon grease. It is difficult to express just how good this was! By the end of the day, not a crumb could be found! "Someone" was so excited that he forgot to take a picture before it was gone so he lifted one off the Internet. Here's the easiest and bestist recipe: Biscuit Bread

This is the beautiful big new 10 gallon shiny stainless steel still sitting on the stove steaming its little metal heart out. We're finding that we need distilled water for a number of things so decided to stop buying water and get this thing. We figure that it will ultimately pays for itself in 175 years. If we take advantage of the endless possibilities inherent in this costly stove ornament, we can pay it off in a couple of weeks. 

 It must be time for another "deal of the day" because a great deal just popped up. This big baby was discovered at a yard sale and in need of a loving new owner that would appreciate and care for it. The ol' coffee sucking rancho dude perfectly fit the bill. The previous Keurig died in its sleep a few months ago and, with a ton of K-cups on hand, was truly missed. A Keurig in need of an owner connected with an owner in need of a Keurig coffee maker; problem solved. 

 

It’s June!! This year is almost half over! Doesn’t that just make you want to do the Curley Shuffle?! It’s like you can almost watch the leave falling off the calendar! We’re getting ready for spring cleaning and it’s summer already! UGH! Moving along….

Rancho Report: lots of things happening at the rancho despite rumors of lockdowns and such. We really haven’t been inconvenienced all that much but we really did see too much of Taco Bell take outs. I suppose that one shouldn’t complain when you can sate the hunger of a couple of old folks for less than 6 bucks.

This mask thing has been going on for so long that I don’t think that everyone will take them off after the lockdowns. It’s turning into a fashion mode and people are making money off the deal. The next thing you know, someone will be taking selfies and having them cropped then printed onto their masks so that people will know who they are. That or there will be a glitterati fad where everyone is trying to pimp their mask better than the next person. They’ll be putting pins, buttons, bangles, beads, and mustaches on their masks to look cool. Everyone will be known by there personalized mask and, if you lose your mask, no one will know who you are! *SIGH*

A Better Butter: the other day (when lots of things happen around here), it became apparent that we had too much butter in the freezer. It had been on sale for 1.99 per pound so Connie the Shopper stocked up on it and there was no room for other good deals.

So, she started surfing the Internet for ideas on how to store butter. It wasn’t long until she found that she could can butter (seriously). It only took a couple of seconds to realize that it was a slight twist of the method/recipe for making “ghee” (the Indian prepared butter) which stores for long periods without refrigeration.

All you have to do is simmer the butter so that the milk solids settle out from the fat/liquid. That’s what ghee is. However, with ghee, the milk solids are removed altogether and used separately. With this recipe, the milk solids remain in the canning jar (because we’re not trying to make ghee). When you’re finished with the canning process and the jars cool a bit, you agitate the jar and remix them with the liquid so that you have canned butter.

We tried the canned butter (a jar didn’t seal) and found it to be just like the regular butter in every way. In fact, an entire skillet of fried biscuit bread was destroyed using canned butter (see this part elsewhere in this episode). Lots of room in the freezer now. 

The long and the short(s) of it: from time to time, we end up going to Visalia (a real town) for business or whatever particular shopping that needs to be done. So, it was not long ago (but longer than the other day) that we wended our way over there and ended up spending most of the day gracing their town (it’s called “spending our money in their stores”). Thankfully, it happened to be a weekend so there were yard sales to be found (and, we certainly did find some).

At one particular place, Connie the shopper found a new pair of summer shorts for the ol’ rancher for (get this) 2 dollars! And, they were exactly his size! Zowie! They were plaid which is probably why they were for sale (didn't plaid shorts go out of style in '83?). But, it’s also what old people don’t mind wearing (and certainly not this old guy). Besides, Connie says they look spiffy! Works for me!

Plum wacky: we usually have our first plum harvest at the end of May and running into the first week of June but a recent rain knocked off almost all of the blossoms. Instead of having a tree laden with fruit, we have a few still-ripening plums. It seems strange because the tree is usually laden with beautiful, huge, ripe, juicy, plums.

The three other plum trees were also affected but not as much. Still, they took a hard hit. A small harvest is better than no harvest.

Hot doggies! My, but they’re good!: the last Sunday of each month, we enjoy our church pot luck. To celebrate the new season of crushing, cursed, soul-searing heat (I know. We humans are a seriously affected lot), Connie the side-cook decided to have a wiener roast (bless her heart). That entailed heading to the hangar (where lots of things are stored) and snatching our electric BBQ grill (you don’t have a George Forman electric BBQ grill?!) so that we wouldn’t be dealing with charcoal, smoke, and ashes (at least we got that part right).That also meant that we could actually use the grill indoors! That surely worked for this ol’ hot dog killer. 

Sure enough, the ladies pulled this feast off with aplomb. We had all of the standard picnic trimmings (who doesn’t love potato salad?!) and plenty of refreshments with which to wash them down. Dessert included cake and home-made ice cream so the event was a huge success.

Call me "Text Ritter" or How I Stopped Worrying and Learned to Love the iPhone: it had to happen sooner or later than the ol’ Luddite rancher had to be inculcated into to the 21^st century: well, not fully inculcated but at least “has his feet wet” sort of inculcated into the 21^st century (this will take awhile since you know who isn't any kind of a hurry).

Getting used to having an iPhone is much more comfortable now the I've poked, pocketed, programmed and otherwise abused this little magic box for about a year or so. Even after losing it a dozen times, losing some of the icons, and having it fall out of my pants fifty times (I kid thee negative), it has to be admitted that it is a handy gadget to have around. You have instant access to just about all of the information known to man. You even have the newly-discovered privilege of “butt dialing” a friend. If you’re really lucky, your friend was in bed or totally unprepared to receive a video call from you. However, you can expect to receive a reciprocal (pay back) call, of course. Everyone gets a laugh when you have one of these things (and who it is that's hiding behind their makeup, eh?).

Hey! You can even fly your own drone if you have one of these hi-tech tools! You can download apps that can tell you the price of stuff in Wal-Mart, too! How cool is that?! It beats chasing down a “blue vest”, eh?

So, look for the old guy checking the latest local news or perhaps “brain coasting” and playing a game of “Free Cell” once in a while. Life is good in the 21^st century.    

Something fishy happen around here or Stick it to me, baby!: in the previous 40 years, fish sticks have not been on the menu at my house. That’s a phenomenon that can’t be explained since, during the ‘50’s and ‘60’s, it was almost against the law to not regularly eat fish sticks (and peanut butter and jelly and Jello).

But, a couple of years ago, fish sticks showed up on the dinner table: they stunk! A few of them were eaten for old time’s sake but not for any other reason. Talk about the classic “yukky”! Most of them ended up in front of our feathery food disposal crew. So, it appeared that such a menu icon would not show up again for the next 40 years. However, you just never know when things can change around this place.

The other day, we ran into Mac and Luvena McElreath, our Christian friends from Californian Hot Springs. They were in Hooterville doing their regular shopping and such. Fortunately, they were at “Grocery Outlet” which, along with “Aldi’s”, is a hangout for the Rancho Twins (we always remind them that we must keep meeting them like this).

 She suggested the fish sticks that were on sale for fifty-seven cents! OK, so for fifty-seven cents (and the fact that they were a completely different brand than the mislabeled chicken feed that I had last time), it was time for Frugal McDougal to take a chance that “real” fish sticks may actually exist (i.e. the ones without ground up cardboard as an ingredient) . 

Connie the Cooker prepared a nice meal (with the classic trimmings of slaw and such) within a day or so. But, there was still a bit of hesitancy due to the lingering thought of the previous ugly experience. Imagine the surprise when these crunchy little former finned swimmers tasted great!

Now, this ol’ fisherman doesn’t get all excited very easily but it was difficult not to sing the praises of fish these sticks (at least this brand). They were “Captain Findus Wild Alaska Pollock Fish Sticks” (who woulda thunk?!). They retail for 4.99 so it was difficult not to rejoice all the more when we paid fifty-seven cents! I’m a big fan of this new fish monger! We returned the next day and bought all that they had left! 

The only caveat is that you never want to microwave these things unless you are sure that that the nukes are going to hit your town within 10 minutes and it's your last meal on earth. Otherwise, do no skimp on time; use the oven. 

“Clean up on aisle 2” or Connie don’t allow no mouse in the house: there are a few things that longsuffering Connie the Canner allows in the house but mammals are not on the list (other than the itchy-back gorilla she’s married to). That’s a completely understandable attitude given that some of them (but particularly the rodents) are just not suitable as pets. Also, some of them gnaw into everything you have stored and that quickly turns into a serious issue because it entails a lot of cleanup work and the cost of replacement (ask us how we know).

Connie the Canner is also Connie the Thinker so she finds a solution to most of the issues that crop up around here from time to time. For this rodent problem, she simply floods the garage with rat poison which leads to an ineluctable fate for all rodents who enter therein.   

That being said, it’s not at all surprising to her personal “janitor” when he hears, “Clean up on aisle 2!” coming from the com radios we carry. The plea always elicits the same immediate response, “On my way, babe!".

Sure enough, another small gray varmint had tried to profit from his newly found goodies and had fallen victim to his innate sense of survival. He was removed and disposed of post haste: aisle cleanup complete.

K-Cupping: sometime ago (but longer than “not long ago”), the big beautiful rancho “Keurig” K-Cupper went down and refused to brew. It couldn’t be resuscitated using the usual troubleshooting so it was tossed. It had been so muchly appreciated that it almost got a decent burial.

That big baby surely was missed but Ol’ Java Joe managed to get by with his alternate coffee makers (Joe Backup, at your service).  His coffee arsenal consists of a Moka Pot, a couple of French presses, a 4 cup coffee maker, and a 38 cup coffee maker (only used at the annual yard sale, though). There is a supply of instant coffee, too, which, though there is a ton of it, is still growing hair on it since it’s definitely going to take a major world depression to force me to drink that stuff. But, even at that, most of it will be bartered or sold.

Well, the other day, wouldn’t you know that the Yo-Yo Twins stumbled into a nearby yard sale (imagine that!). Lo and behold! Sitting all forlorn and in need of a coffee drinker was a big ol’ Keurig K-Cup coffee maker! If that doesn’t just make you pluck your banjo, it was exactly the same model and color as the deceased one!

It had a light layer of “Springville insulation” resting on it but that has never kept the this ol’ sale-er from snatching a bargain! The nice folks advised that they don’t drink a lot of coffee so they decided to ditch the Keurig (and assured that it does work just fine). “How much did they want for it?”, you ask? Ten bucks! Sold!        

When it wound up on the kitchen counter, the layer of “insulation” was removed and it was obvious that the nice neighbors weren’t kidding. You couldn’t tell that it had even been used!! Zowie!! The K-cups are stacked and ready for deployment!

 Gardening report:

Egg Plants Under Duress or Rescue the Flourishing:  there were two lovely and thriving egg plants in garden box number two (there are four boxes). They were blooming and, since we have a large hive of bees (i.e. pollinators), there was no reason to think that there wouldn’t be a nice harvest of big ol’ fat “Black Beauty” eggplants. Ah, but this is “Rancho Relaxo”. You have to be prepared for all contingencies because things can get...interesting...around here.

Imagine the look of anguish on the Ol’ Gardener’s face when one of his beautiful large flourishing plants was all wilted and flat on the ground! This was no mystery by any stretch. A vile varmint and bane of all gardeners and who abides in the dank, dark, nether regions of the rancho, was responsible for this. He had already destroyed most of my potato crop (75% qualifies as “most”. They were replanted within a few days). The destruction of a perfectly good eggplant event was good for a bit of grumbling.

But, also imagine when, a few days later, the larger and even more flourishing plant was also found compromised! That was good for a large “AUUUUUGH!” and a resounding “RATS!!” (conveniently borrowed from my pal, Charlie Brown, since he’s so good at it).

The first plant was gnawed off at the ground level so wasn’t salvageable at all. However, the second plant had its roots eaten so was simply water starved. That led to a quick grabbing of a wire basket that was planted next to the original planting spot. The injured plant was quickly transplanted into the safety of the basket (where it should have been in the first place. *Sigh*). An immediate water regimen was introduced so that its roots would flourish.

Flourish they did because, after three weeks, the plant is now almost back to normal. It is expected to have fruit on it but it will be much later in the season due to the trauma. 12 more seeds were started and are being nursed along so that we will have eggplants this year no matter what!

Yes! We have lots of green beans! We have lots of green beans today!: reckon the gophers are too busy getting fat on my potatoes, eggplants, and tomato plants to bother with the green beans because they have largely been untouched. In a couple of weeks we’ll have the first picking!  

Because of the critters and “stale” seeds, they had to be replanted three times. The good news is that we’ll have a “rolling harvest” and will likely get a really great harvest this year (which will be greatly appreciated because we got almost no beans last year).

Varmint Be Gone or Victory Over Varmint Day: it took a while but the Ol’ Rancher finally got the best of one of the varmints that were destroying his garden beds. There was a lot of digging of holes and following of tunnels required to achieve success.

A newly-discovered tunnel had a hose shoved into it to further open it up or at least find a direction. Much to the delight of the hose wrangler, a soggy and angry California Pocket Gopher, fighting for air, pushed his way out into the sunlight (rendering him temporarily blind). Rancho Ran wasn’t about to lose such an advantage against an evil enemy. The gopher was dead in seconds (there would be no decent burial): Rancho Ran – 1; Nasty vile tunneling varmint – 0.

The next day, it was determined that the late fuzzy destroyer had a pal in the neighborhood so the war still rages. His enemy still has a hose, high-pressure water nozzles, shovels, hoes, and gopher gas to fight with so the game is afoot.

 Chickening report: we now have two brooders but still have 3-4 eggs per day! After the coyote’s “free chicken lunch” adventure, we still had 7 layers and had plenty of eggs. With the two brooders sidelined, we still have a regular supply and Connie the Canner has her “water glassing” egg supply as well. Shortages are not allowed on our property.

There is a sad addendum, though. We lost one of our Golden Lace-Wing Wyandottes to a case of “chicken stupidity”. The “Rancho Rampo” (folding aluminum ramps for unloading things from a trailer or a pickup bed) were left on the front porch after unloading “Rancho Hondo”. Our birdies do like to frequent the front porch so this little layer found herself between the porch railing and the heavy ramp (which has slots in it to make it lighter but without compromising its strength). Something (perhaps Abbie) spooked her into thinking that she was trapped between the fence and the ramp. So, she made a frantic attempt to push her fat little carcass through the ramp slot but that action knocked the ramp over. When it fell over, it fell on her neck and broke it (have I mentioned that a chicken's brain is about the size of a pea?). That leaves us with 4 layers and 2 brooders.

It has to be admitted that the ramp shouldn’t have been there in the first place. It had been left there due to the procrastination of the Ol’ Rancher who had assured himself that he would get around to it. So, I reckon you could say that the hen died from a case of “rancher stupidity” (maybe he can blame it on the concussion he received when he stupidly slammed his forehead into a low-lying tree limb last month). It's time to thing about getting a few more layers since ours are running out of eggs (after about 2.5-3 years). 

Well....there you have it: another short episode of the long happenings at Rancho Relaxo: home of Rancho Ran, the world's foremost authority (the previous one died): home of the Yo-Yo Twins, home of a retarded duck, home of Connie the Canner (world's greatest side-kook): where the air smells, where alliteration reigns supreme, where being modern is optional, where there are no slaves to fashion, where things can get...interesting, where it’s all news to me, and where...you just never know.

 

   

Rancho Whammo!

 

Above, we see our sweet lil' "Abbie the Wonder Dog" (we often wonder what she's up to)  guarding the front door mat. Note the alertness and diligence. To the right, we see her likewise diligently listening to the ground for footsteps from Gypsies and other ne'er do wells in the neighborhood. She's definitely keeping "Wooly Pully", the trailer, and "Tojo", the Camry, safe. You know...we've never lost a door mat, a trailer, or a car yet (bless her little doggie heart). 

Putting a spin on things: this is the new "Abu Garcia" spincast reel that recently found a home at Rancho Relaxo. It was 3 bucks at an estate sale. They retail for more than 40 dollars. Not too bad of a catch, I'd say! 

At the same estate sale, we bought an unopened 32oz  bottle of  “Nature’s Sunshine” aloe vera. It sells for 27.98 but we bought it for 2.00. That's called "wealth redistribution". And, another “deal of the day” was a beautiful new pair of Cavalli “Generation” denim jeans. They retail for 90 dollars! We got them (my exact size) for....4 dollars! Ditto! 

 A bell of a deal!! This is the first of our green bell peppers. The red and orange ones are growing nicely so should be producing fruit soon. Fajitas, anyone? 

It's been awhile since goat meat has been on the menu for the old ranch hand. So, when this particular restaurant opened up, we headed there for a taco lunch. A "birria" taco is one that is filled with whatever meat one desires then it's fried in a sauce of some kind. It's a "taco truck" sort of thing so there's likely a thousand different recipes. In any case, the goat meat/carne de chivo was really tasty. The other taco was just the regular carne asada (also quite tasty). It was nice to get to be able to just sit down and dine again.

This is a (partial) view from our porch swing. It's really nice to catch the cool evening breeze while  watching "chicken TV" and such. 

This is one of "Connie the Planter's" planter boxes. It resides with several other ones on the back patio railing. Having all of these flowers really makes our bees' day! Not many humming birds have found them so far, though. The netting is to keep the chickens from using the boxes for laying eggs but it's also likely keeping the hummers away, too.  

 Breaker! Breaker! Good buddy! or I’ll CB’ing you: This is a "Cobra" brand Model HH50 hand-held CB radio. They retail for more than 100 dollars. Of course, the old yard sail'er isn't about to pay retail but for a few things. So, this one was picked up for 5 bucks at an estate sale. I checked it out and it works great! Ol' Radio Ran started out with CB radios in '71 and progressed to Ham radio from there. If we travel more than about 200 miles from home, Ol' RR has a CB radio in the van, to be sure. They actually come in handy at times. It's used mostly for monitoring traffic around the big cities and on the Interstates when traffic gets "goofy" (if you've ever travelled on an Interstate, you know that "goofy" is the word to use to explain the traffic out there). It probably goes without saying that his ham radios are on board, too.  

This is the newly overhauled "Ranch Rhino". it has a new tune-up, new wiring, a new alternator, and a new battery. The headlights even work! The over-haul included a complete oil change and lube job so it handles much better than before ("strong arm" power steering, don'tcha know). It runs like a champ, starts on the first crank, and doesn't smoke! What a sweet little tractor!! 

This is the Minnick version of pinto beans and bacon. You may not be able to tell from such a small sample but this version uses at least a half pound of bacon. Add a tablespoon of salt to two cups of pintos and toss everything into the pressure cooker for a couple of hours and dinner is served! The wonderful palatal pleasure of cornbread was omitted on this go around but will be included next time. 

What was included this time was a large skillet full of fried taters and onions. There was no way that the beans were not going to be paired with spuds! My! My! Talk about "good stuff"!!

 Just as I was finished and leaving the table, I watched in silence as my left hand snatched the last small tater in the bowl! There were no survivors! 

How Sweet It Is or “ Honey, hand me some honey”: to the right is a section of freshly harvested honeycomb filled to the brim with orange honey (the 3 box hive is in the middle of our 17 orange trees and next to the neighbor's 50+ orange trees). There are no earthly words to describe just how delicious this is when it's popped into your mouth and slowly drained into your gullet. It's indescribably delicious (and you thought “Mounds” were the only thing that tasted that good!). Our friend and professional beekeeper, Dave Kruse, advised that we have as much as 40 pounds of honey ready for harvesting! All I need is a...day off... and we'll have our honey for the year!

Well! Pat me on the head and feed me cornbread! It’s May! Reckon we’ll just have to pour another cup of emotional support beverage (Starbucks, please) and go about our business of not noticing just how fast the months are ripping by. *SIGH*.

Rancho Report: things are moving along well here at the rancho. The Ol’ Rancher and Rancherette are busier than honey bees in the spring bloom. Of course, all that means is that not much has changed and that we’re finally getting caught up with last year’s chores. *SIGH*.

Also, we’ve dodged all the “bullets” that have been flung far and wide around the world. The only measures taken were to, 1) use your head and don’t be a dumb cluck (we decided to be smart clucks) 2) wear the stupid mask (which the CDC has finally confessed doesn’t help at all but…we just grin and bear it to prevent people from throwing rocks at us and because we know that we’ll be able to stop breathing our own body waste once we get back outside) 3) stay pumped with vitamins (especially vitamin D and C), beaucoup minerals; get lots of fresh air and sunshine which are all important facets of maintaining a healthy immune system 4) fear not. There’s no reason to fear any virus if you just use your head and follow the (historically-true-and-proven) science (garnered by doing a lot of homework so that you aren’t being deceived); the use of quinine (.99 cents per liter anywhere - think: malaria), and many other homeopathic options have been irrefutably proven to either stop any virus dead in its tracks and/or give you an Arnold Schwarzenegger immune system (something akin to wearing a flak jacket for your immune system). 

It worked out really well and there is great peace in knowing that we weren't a threat to anyone and they weren't a threat to us. 

A bad hare day: For many years, we've had our share of cotton tail wabbits around here. They weren’t particularly a threat to our garden so they were pretty much left to themselves (it's the brazen ground squirrels that are the veggie thieves). A few of them were culled from time to time if there was a thought of there being too many of them around the garden boxes. There isn't any sport in the matter since they are large stationary targets (compared to the ground squirrels).  

But, as of late, the domestic population of lagomorphs has dwindled to the point that there’s no reckoning of just how long it has been since one of them has made himself “invisible” on our property. You may already know that wabbits just sit motionless when they see an approaching threat. They assume a concrete statue pose which is their Romulan cloaking mechanism (so, there is proof that we have either had contact with aliens or that wabbits watch too many “Star Trek” reruns).  Of course, if the threat gets too close, they bolt for Ceti Alpha 6 (as do the Klingons).

 Anyway, it was noteworthy enough to make another note worthy of mention. There must be a large recurring wabbit predation program in progress. In other words, the coyotes (who also love chicken dinners), hawks (who also love chicken dinners), and snakes (who also love chicken eggs) are keeping up with their commitment to stay alive by eating wabbits. So, having a paucity of cotton tails is a good thing (at least until rabbit fur coats come back into fashion). Their bad hare day is a "good hair day" for us.

Great gobs of gopher gas!: imagine if you will (no. This is not an episode of "Twilight Zone") a bunch of cartoon gophers (perhaps "Go Go Gophers" ala "Under Dog" cartoons, 1968) or other critters pulling veggies down into their tunnels from a farmers carefully tended garden. The farmer is furious and grabs his double barreled shotgun is ready to wreak vengeance for the loss. Now, imagine it being the Ol' Rancher's garden and the critters are pulling his carefully tended veggies down into their tunnel! Can you see him hollering, "Where's my shotgun?!"?

It's difficult to comprehend how a small furry almost blind mammal can haul a 24" tomato plant down into his tunnel! However, you soon become a believer when it happens to you! Add to that the fact that the same rodent tunneller gnawed off another 24" tomato plant at the base thereby destroying the plant! Then, factor in the loss of 10 okra starts! Well, you can also imagine that, when these facts were processed, war was declared on Mr. Gopher! 

That led to a trip to "Lowe's" where a load of gopher gas was procured, hauled home, then readied for deployment. This stuff is really cool because it looks like dynamite. And, it has this neato fuse that you light and it makes you think that, if the gas doesn't get this fuzzy bugger, the explosion must. It's like it's the Fourth of July, too! 

All holes in the area were dug and readied for gassing. Each hole had a "bomb" placed in it and the fuse was lit. Once the gas started (it's just sulfur and not unlike striking a huge match), the hole was covered up. Then you wait for results. 

Results came the next day; the gopher came back that night and refilled his holes! Grrrrrr! The next round of gas will have to wait until we head to town again so we can resupply or expensive sulfur bombs. If this rodent isn't stopped, we'll lose the entire bean crop, the tomatoes, and all the okra. That isn't part of the plan at all. 

Ran can cook (hey! If Yan can cook, so can Ran!): around here, when the mood for Chinese food strikes (nothing like being hard struck by a mood, I always say), the ol’ Rancho Woko gets hauled out of its box and is readied for work.

Cooking Chinese food is relatively easy even for a round eye guy like me. It’s almost impossible to mess up a meal if you just pay attention and use a few simple ingredients that are common to Chinese cooking. That means that even Ran can cook! Such a deal!

After whacking up the veggies and pork and rounding up the (never ever secret) ingredients, the wok was heated and oiled (peanut oil, that is) and the wok-spatula was set to flying.  The chopped up pork steak was flash fried then put aside until the veggies were done. 

This was happening while the noodles were boiling. After they were finished cooking, they were drained and readied for the wok to be turned into “soft fried” noodles  (a thing that Ol’ Faux Chef Ran dearly loves). 

After you toss in some of the usual stir-fry seasoning and some soy sauce on the greens, you can just cover the wok and let the steam do its work for a few minutes. Then, toss in the meat, mix everything together until well heated, plate the fresh, hot, soft-fried noodles, then it's time to dish up. It won't be long until we wok-up and do it again. 

Plastic, bottles, and cans! Oh, no!: the other day (when lots of things happen around here), it was time to haul in the bottles, cans, and plastics to the recycle place. Our favorite is the one at West Olive and Indiana in Hooterville (my hometown, USA). Our labor was rewarded with enough cash to take the two old people to “Burger King” and slay their hunger on the spot. It’s not exactly the proverbial “free lunch” but it’ll work for now. 

Wham! Bam! No thank you, Ma’am! Or, Don't Let The Stars Get In Your Eyes: one of Ol’ Ran’s favorite mottos is, “You have to pay attention”. Life is full of unexpected surprises and, if you aren’t looking out, you can get blindsided. This is also to say that, when working on a ranch (of any size), you simply have to keep you head up and be alert (not enough lerts out there so you need to become a lert, too).

Well, reckon you can guess who had his head stuffed somewhere other than in the “up” position and fell victim to his own inattention. Yep; the Ol’ Rancher who was determinately walking toward the barn while looking downward and trying to deal with an uncooperative water nozzle. In the blink of a buzzard's eye and in full stride, he slammed into a low tree branch (that would be the one that he had purposed a dozen times to saw off so that he wouldn’t slam into it with his  head)!

Oh! Man! That hurt! That shook the dates right off my palm tree! That “homer” (right out of the ball park) was good for a trip to space! I saw stars, starships, and aliens (terrestrial and extraterrestrial)! The first thought after the stellar vision finished was to triage the injuries; at first it seemed that, there was not only going to be a broken nose to contend with, but certainly the Ol’ Rancher would soon be sporting a new pair of black eyes. My lightning-fast mind asked, “just how are you going to explain the black eyes, Ran?”.  I was sure that no one would believe that even I could do something so stupid as to blindly walk in to a tree limb (or, maybe not). Maybe telling them that I lost the fight would suffice.  

After a quick stagger to regain balance and after taking a moment to see if there was any blood running out of the cracks, it was time to just sit down and do nothing for a few minutes. Thankfully, at this point, there wasn’t even a nose bleed to contend with. I thought that to be odd because my nose has been known to easily bleed. Nevertheless, it was time to be thankful that I wasn't sharing my hemoglobin with the worms. Once the initial smack on the noggin was handled and reality pushed the fog back, things quieted down. It was also time to go inside and rest for awhile. The gophers would have to wait. 

The aftermath was remarkable in that there wasn’t a residual headache, there were no black eyes, and there wasn't a broken nose! That worked for this old head basher especially knowing that a whack like this could take the prow off a Spanish caravel! After such an attitude adjustment, it looks like it may be quite awhile before Ol' Ran tries to shove a 9" thick tree limb aside using only brain power. 

You don’t know Jack or How old can you go?: “Jack in the Box” is celebrating its 70^th birthday this year and they are making a big “too do” about it. There are ads and banners just about everywhere. Connie the Canner glanced at their sign as we passed the local “Junk in the Box” and commented that we were both older than “Jack”. It’s so hard to express just how much that delighted our souls. 

Well....there you have it: another short episode of the long happenings at Rancho Relaxo, home of Rancho Ran, the world's foremost authority (the previous one died): home of the Yo-Yo Twins: home of a retarded duck; home of Connie the Canner (world's greatest side-kook): where the air smells like fried taters: where alliteration reigns supreme: where being modern is optional; where there are no slaves to fashion: where things can get...interesting: where it’s all news to me: and, where...you just never know.