Well I turned around and I said oh, oh oh
Well I turned around and I said oh, oh oh
Well I turned around and I said ho, ho
And the northern lights commenced to glow
And she said, with a tear in her eye
Watch out where the huskies go, and don't you eat that yellow snow
Watch out where the huskies go, and don't you eat that yellow snow.
(Frank Zappa, "Don't Eat the Yellow Snow", 1971)
It snowed on the Tin Star Ranch this fine morn.....No big deal...except it ain't never done that in the tenure of the ranch hand?
Reminded the ole fat boy of his days as a yonker in Wright City and those rare snow days that Texas renders.
For those that live in snow from can til can't...snow is just more BS...
For those that rarely see grits spittin' from above...it is a wonderment.
A memory is of Mom having us rake some of the white frosting off the ground and her adding canned condensed milk and sugar to make snow "ice cream"!
Mom would always admonish, "Don't bring in no yellow snow".
Kids being kids, we didn't quite cabbage onto the wisdom of that advice til later years....but Mom...if ya are up there watchin'...your onliest son did NOT eat no yellow snow today!
Friday, January 4, 2013
Sunday, December 30, 2012
The Grim Reaper
"The reports of my death are greatly exaggerated." (Mark Twain)'
The ole ranch hand duly commemorated advancing age this flu season by obtaining his flu vaccination in a timely manner.
Secure in the knowledge that the Grim Reaper would once again be stalled, the fat boy strolled into the winter sunset with a smile.....until Black Death descended with a vengeance one month later?
Yeah, the last few days have found your haggard/humble country bumpkin contemplating such delightful topics as:
1. Who could be conned into serving as a pall bearers?
2. Will the bride ignore pleas to NOT go to Eternity burdened by a suit/tie?
3. Will old "enemies" show up at the services to verify the blessing of the event?
4. Will there be beer in the Hereafter?
5. Will the number of attendees equal the number of facebook friends....Naw?
Anywho.....tamiflu (and a bucket of other miracle drugs) finally slowed the pace of self-help funeral planning.
Accordingly, it seems the Divine Creator has spared the ranch hand's sorry hide one mo' time.
Now if they could just create a vaccination for "dumass"?
The ole ranch hand duly commemorated advancing age this flu season by obtaining his flu vaccination in a timely manner.
Secure in the knowledge that the Grim Reaper would once again be stalled, the fat boy strolled into the winter sunset with a smile.....until Black Death descended with a vengeance one month later?
Yeah, the last few days have found your haggard/humble country bumpkin contemplating such delightful topics as:
1. Who could be conned into serving as a pall bearers?
2. Will the bride ignore pleas to NOT go to Eternity burdened by a suit/tie?
3. Will old "enemies" show up at the services to verify the blessing of the event?
4. Will there be beer in the Hereafter?
5. Will the number of attendees equal the number of facebook friends....Naw?
Anywho.....tamiflu (and a bucket of other miracle drugs) finally slowed the pace of self-help funeral planning.
Accordingly, it seems the Divine Creator has spared the ranch hand's sorry hide one mo' time.
Now if they could just create a vaccination for "dumass"?
Monday, December 17, 2012
Smokey and other BS Artists
Ms. Eva recently posted a tasty morsel related to "event boundaries". (wrestlingwithretirement.com)
Seems that academic psycho-who-sis-es (plural of "babble-what-the-hey) postulated that passing thru a physical doorway (in any structure) creates a cerebral partition. Said "partition" formulates a "clean slate" for the purpose of separating one set of thoughts and memories from the next.
To break this concept down into the basic East Texas version....ya gotta first visualize a country squirrel on a hot summer day evaluatin' his road crossing traffic options upon the approach of multiple vehicles (while said nutcracker is astraddle the center line).
Does our wannabe Olympic sprinter want to dodge right or left...OK, left..no right...no left/ right/right/right/left....ARRGGGGHHH...splat.
As Smokey the Bear says...."Remember, only you can prevent an event boundary"!
Seems that academic psycho-who-sis-es (plural of "babble-what-the-hey) postulated that passing thru a physical doorway (in any structure) creates a cerebral partition. Said "partition" formulates a "clean slate" for the purpose of separating one set of thoughts and memories from the next.
To break this concept down into the basic East Texas version....ya gotta first visualize a country squirrel on a hot summer day evaluatin' his road crossing traffic options upon the approach of multiple vehicles (while said nutcracker is astraddle the center line).
Does our wannabe Olympic sprinter want to dodge right or left...OK, left..no right...no left/ right/right/right/left....ARRGGGGHHH...splat.
As Smokey the Bear says...."Remember, only you can prevent an event boundary"!
Wednesday, December 12, 2012
HINDER DESKS
The ole ranch hand was borned and raised under rather modest circumstances in Wright City.
Only one black and white TV in the house with only one channel available (when the weather was clear). No telephone. No microwave. No skills with artificial intelligence whatsoever. You get the idea?
Accordingly, the fat boy did not touch a computer until into his third decade of life.
Since that ill fated day, your still neophyte "nerd" has progressed to ownership of multiple personal machines.
Another words, the country bumpkin can (on occasion) navigate the cyberspacial world and function (sorta?) on-line.
The "fly" in this "soup" is that for every action, there is an equal and opposite malfunction generated by yours truly. This malady, unfortunately, requires the all too frequent call to a so-called "Help Desk" in some foreign land.
Called a toll free number this day and 'splained my problem to a "real person". Was only told, "hold for a moment", before a "Punch 1 for this and 2 for that" serenade started.
Punched "2" and got a recorded message to, "Call another number"????
Called the "other number" and got a "real person", but have yet to figger out their native language. Lead pipe cinch it weren't English (and heard all manner of world-wide dialects from "help" in the background chatter?????)
Went into detail 'bout the problem at issue, answered a bucket-load of questions, and was told, "I am going to make you very happy, but.....our computer system is down for maintenance and you will have to call back another time".
So here is the question....should I unplug the computer, pack it like when purchased, and take it by to the store to tell them I am too stupid to have a computer...or should the good ole U.S. of A. staff their own damn help desks????
WAKE UP AMERICA!!!!
Only one black and white TV in the house with only one channel available (when the weather was clear). No telephone. No microwave. No skills with artificial intelligence whatsoever. You get the idea?
Accordingly, the fat boy did not touch a computer until into his third decade of life.
Since that ill fated day, your still neophyte "nerd" has progressed to ownership of multiple personal machines.
Another words, the country bumpkin can (on occasion) navigate the cyberspacial world and function (sorta?) on-line.
The "fly" in this "soup" is that for every action, there is an equal and opposite malfunction generated by yours truly. This malady, unfortunately, requires the all too frequent call to a so-called "Help Desk" in some foreign land.
Called a toll free number this day and 'splained my problem to a "real person". Was only told, "hold for a moment", before a "Punch 1 for this and 2 for that" serenade started.
Punched "2" and got a recorded message to, "Call another number"????
Called the "other number" and got a "real person", but have yet to figger out their native language. Lead pipe cinch it weren't English (and heard all manner of world-wide dialects from "help" in the background chatter?????)
Went into detail 'bout the problem at issue, answered a bucket-load of questions, and was told, "I am going to make you very happy, but.....our computer system is down for maintenance and you will have to call back another time".
So here is the question....should I unplug the computer, pack it like when purchased, and take it by to the store to tell them I am too stupid to have a computer...or should the good ole U.S. of A. staff their own damn help desks????
WAKE UP AMERICA!!!!
Friday, December 7, 2012
MAKIN' MAGIC
The ole fat boy and his beautiful bride took the notion evenin' last to gather up the five year old nephew and three year old niece and make some "magic" thru the decoration of Christmas sugar cookies.
Engendered by family love and innocent in intention,this was a great idea that would surely become legendary in memory.
The holiday pastries were carefully cooked to perfection and the "sprinkles" and icing was evenly divided between two card tables to separate the "combatants" during the blessed event.
Picked them eager puppies up at day-care, transported them to the ranch, and launched the festivities without delay.
Then the "plan" began to disintegrate a bit???
It seems that grabbing plastic spoons and sloppin' icing down one's throat is infinitely more fun than carefully layering it onto a cookie?
And who would have thought that fancy colored sprinkles judiciously divided into little plastic bathroom sipping cups would be such awesome shot glasses to "chug" sugar charged energy fuel with unbridled enthusiasm????
Add pretzels to the "reindeer head" cookies"...NAW...throw them at your sibling at the neighboring table while giggling incomprehensible glee????
At the end of the evening it could easily be said it was "fun"...to have the experience....!!!!
Now if the ranch hand can figger how to get the tractor in the house to round up all that "fun" that ended up on the floor???
Engendered by family love and innocent in intention,this was a great idea that would surely become legendary in memory.
The holiday pastries were carefully cooked to perfection and the "sprinkles" and icing was evenly divided between two card tables to separate the "combatants" during the blessed event.
Picked them eager puppies up at day-care, transported them to the ranch, and launched the festivities without delay.
Then the "plan" began to disintegrate a bit???
It seems that grabbing plastic spoons and sloppin' icing down one's throat is infinitely more fun than carefully layering it onto a cookie?
And who would have thought that fancy colored sprinkles judiciously divided into little plastic bathroom sipping cups would be such awesome shot glasses to "chug" sugar charged energy fuel with unbridled enthusiasm????
Add pretzels to the "reindeer head" cookies"...NAW...throw them at your sibling at the neighboring table while giggling incomprehensible glee????
At the end of the evening it could easily be said it was "fun"...to have the experience....!!!!
Now if the ranch hand can figger how to get the tractor in the house to round up all that "fun" that ended up on the floor???
Monday, December 3, 2012
PRIDE
Pride goeth before destruction, and an haughty spirit before a fall. (Proverbs 16:18)
The ole fat boy and his beautiful child bride have spent the past year faithfully toiling in the salt mine (local exercise gym).
Yeah, the ranch hand has often grumbled and made lame-butt excuses bout not goin', but the little woman always lowered her voice, raised her eyebrows....and well hell, got my sorry self to the dungeon.
Slowly and painfully, your sextarian age scribe progressed from embarassing his ownself...to actually making progress on the track and in the weight room.
This fine morn found the Olympic wannabe chuggin' round the gym oval like a steam engine. Head held high, chest out, arms and legs pumpin' and churnin' like a threshing machine. Such was the magnificence of this display of physical prowess that all fellow athletes were eyeballin' the ranch hand with obvious envy.
Then reality reared it ugly head and slapped ole dumass up the side of the head with the fact that they was starin' because he was stylin' in his size 13 "croc" (fur lined") deluxe HOUSESHOES???
Dang that "fall" from grace was embarassing!
The ole fat boy and his beautiful child bride have spent the past year faithfully toiling in the salt mine (local exercise gym).
Yeah, the ranch hand has often grumbled and made lame-butt excuses bout not goin', but the little woman always lowered her voice, raised her eyebrows....and well hell, got my sorry self to the dungeon.
Slowly and painfully, your sextarian age scribe progressed from embarassing his ownself...to actually making progress on the track and in the weight room.
This fine morn found the Olympic wannabe chuggin' round the gym oval like a steam engine. Head held high, chest out, arms and legs pumpin' and churnin' like a threshing machine. Such was the magnificence of this display of physical prowess that all fellow athletes were eyeballin' the ranch hand with obvious envy.
Then reality reared it ugly head and slapped ole dumass up the side of the head with the fact that they was starin' because he was stylin' in his size 13 "croc" (fur lined") deluxe HOUSESHOES???
Dang that "fall" from grace was embarassing!
Tuesday, November 27, 2012
The Ranch Grinch
"The Twelve Days of Christmas", an ancient English Christmas carol, enumerates a series of increasingly grand gifts given on each of the twelve days of Christmas.
It's a lovely tune the ranch hand has never hesitated to make up words for since he is too dumb to remember the actual "stuff"?
However, the fact that most Christians don't actually celebrate twelve days of the commercialized version of Christmas is a blessing highly appreciated by this ole fat boy.
The reasons:
1. Ya wanna see a grown man break out in a cold sweat and quiver?
2. Ya wanna see a confused guy wondering from aisle to aisle mumblin' to his own self while doin' prolific eyeball rollin'?
....then just watch your humble blogger doing holiday "shopping".
Said shopping confusion most likely resembles a passage written by Dr. Seuss:
"And the Grinch, with his Grinch-feet ice cold in the snow, stood puzzling and puzzling, how could it be so? And he puzzled and puzzled 'till his puzzler was sore."
Oh for the days when an upstanding magi had only to stop by the local gold, frankincense, and myrrh shop for gift purchases.
Surely life was simpler?
It's a lovely tune the ranch hand has never hesitated to make up words for since he is too dumb to remember the actual "stuff"?
However, the fact that most Christians don't actually celebrate twelve days of the commercialized version of Christmas is a blessing highly appreciated by this ole fat boy.
The reasons:
1. Ya wanna see a grown man break out in a cold sweat and quiver?
2. Ya wanna see a confused guy wondering from aisle to aisle mumblin' to his own self while doin' prolific eyeball rollin'?
....then just watch your humble blogger doing holiday "shopping".
Said shopping confusion most likely resembles a passage written by Dr. Seuss:
"And the Grinch, with his Grinch-feet ice cold in the snow, stood puzzling and puzzling, how could it be so? And he puzzled and puzzled 'till his puzzler was sore."
Oh for the days when an upstanding magi had only to stop by the local gold, frankincense, and myrrh shop for gift purchases.
Surely life was simpler?
Sunday, November 4, 2012
THE COUGH
Easing thru the smooth dark velvet of pre-dawn darkness this morn was punctuated by the soft hooting of the ranch's resident owl in a distant tree. Plaintive in its call, but determined, the raptor continued its serenade till the sun rose thru a pink cascade of eastern sky.
A doe and her male fawn browsed along savoring the bounty of acorns and green fodder on the east pasture carpet. The nubbin buck proudly displayed its fur covered "bump" antlers as nobly as the trophy it may one day become (while occasionally visiting mama to nurse again).
The sudden bray of a neighbor's donkey gave no cause of concern to the casual diners. However, the unavoidable COUGH of your humble scribe set the duo on immediate guard as the doe began to loudly stamp her front hooves! This warning display continued for many minutes until she was satisfied the old fat man in the tree was a harmless doofus.
Next, a two year old six point buck slowly cruised from the surrounding brush and began his stalk of the doe....no doubt with romantic notions abloom?
Twenty minutes of fruitless pursuit continued until the young buck finally exited to find other, more amorous potential mates.
No venison collected on the Tin Star this second day of the season, but who cares?? Life is GREAT!
A doe and her male fawn browsed along savoring the bounty of acorns and green fodder on the east pasture carpet. The nubbin buck proudly displayed its fur covered "bump" antlers as nobly as the trophy it may one day become (while occasionally visiting mama to nurse again).
The sudden bray of a neighbor's donkey gave no cause of concern to the casual diners. However, the unavoidable COUGH of your humble scribe set the duo on immediate guard as the doe began to loudly stamp her front hooves! This warning display continued for many minutes until she was satisfied the old fat man in the tree was a harmless doofus.
Next, a two year old six point buck slowly cruised from the surrounding brush and began his stalk of the doe....no doubt with romantic notions abloom?
Twenty minutes of fruitless pursuit continued until the young buck finally exited to find other, more amorous potential mates.
No venison collected on the Tin Star this second day of the season, but who cares?? Life is GREAT!
Saturday, November 3, 2012
THE BIG BUCK
The 2012 Texas deer season was officially announced this fine morn by the chatter of the ranch corn feeder spraying its golden morsels about as homage to the woodland creature dietary desires.
Likely, only life-long deer hunters can best appreciate the shear beauty of an "opening morning" with its stirring of resident varmits inspired by the timid initial face of Ole Sol peeking over the east horizon?
This morn found The old fat boy perched in his elevated deer condo adjacent to the barn in the north extremity of the ranch.
Just the faintest hint of cool breeze stirred to move the early cool velvet pre-dawn. Without doubt, there was the hint of "promise" in the air.
After about 45 minutes, a stately doe casually sauntered from one oak tree to the other solemnly munching on the acorn protein bounty. Solitary in her lone appearance, but appreciated as our first "visitor".
Near 8:30, movement on the back fence line proved to be a magnificent male of the species. Heavy in body, magnificent in antlered glory.
Alas, after a brief peek-a-boo in and out of the trees, Senior Horns faded into the brush of the neighboring ranch.
What a wonderful "opening morning"!!!!! The privilege of watching our Master's handiwork awakening the day, seeing His creations at peace on the land, and that always special adrenaline thrill of seeing THE BIG BUCK.
Life is good.
Likely, only life-long deer hunters can best appreciate the shear beauty of an "opening morning" with its stirring of resident varmits inspired by the timid initial face of Ole Sol peeking over the east horizon?
This morn found The old fat boy perched in his elevated deer condo adjacent to the barn in the north extremity of the ranch.
Just the faintest hint of cool breeze stirred to move the early cool velvet pre-dawn. Without doubt, there was the hint of "promise" in the air.
After about 45 minutes, a stately doe casually sauntered from one oak tree to the other solemnly munching on the acorn protein bounty. Solitary in her lone appearance, but appreciated as our first "visitor".
Near 8:30, movement on the back fence line proved to be a magnificent male of the species. Heavy in body, magnificent in antlered glory.
Alas, after a brief peek-a-boo in and out of the trees, Senior Horns faded into the brush of the neighboring ranch.
What a wonderful "opening morning"!!!!! The privilege of watching our Master's handiwork awakening the day, seeing His creations at peace on the land, and that always special adrenaline thrill of seeing THE BIG BUCK.
Life is good.
Friday, November 2, 2012
The Process
Tomorrow's timid dawning will initiate the 42nd opening morning of participating in Texas deer season for the ole fat boy.
The early years were mostly "guessing" as to what to do, look for, or whatever?
No one in the ranch hand's family were deer hunters (since there were no deer in Wright City) and therefore the neophyte's knowledge was mostly gleaned from Field and Stream magazines.
Imagine your humble scribe's befuddled manner on the occasion of his first acquistition of a walking smoked sausage venison donor? Yep, no clue as to how to get what was inside...outside...and thus prepare for "processing" future protein accoutrements???
Well, it got muddled through and after harvesting likely more than 50 of them varmits over the past decades...the only "thrill" left is the "process". Watching the ruminants all year, feeding them groceries, following their woodland trails, photographing their antics, and generally enjoying the "process" of deer hunting is where the genuine pleasure lies.
Course, that smoked jalapeno/cheese reindeer hot gut and chicken fried backstrap is a bit of an incentive without compare!
The early years were mostly "guessing" as to what to do, look for, or whatever?
No one in the ranch hand's family were deer hunters (since there were no deer in Wright City) and therefore the neophyte's knowledge was mostly gleaned from Field and Stream magazines.
Imagine your humble scribe's befuddled manner on the occasion of his first acquistition of a walking smoked sausage venison donor? Yep, no clue as to how to get what was inside...outside...and thus prepare for "processing" future protein accoutrements???
Well, it got muddled through and after harvesting likely more than 50 of them varmits over the past decades...the only "thrill" left is the "process". Watching the ruminants all year, feeding them groceries, following their woodland trails, photographing their antics, and generally enjoying the "process" of deer hunting is where the genuine pleasure lies.
Course, that smoked jalapeno/cheese reindeer hot gut and chicken fried backstrap is a bit of an incentive without compare!
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