The ole ranch hand was raised up in a time before electronical contraptions.
The most Wright City could boast was vacumn tube black/white TVs that got one channel (if the weather wasn't too bad or the outside antenna hadn't blown down).
There just weren't no such thang as computers, the internet, space travel, cordless phones, or a vast myriad of other things that are taken for granted by the younger generation.
A bit late in life, your humble scribe took the plunge (OK, maybe stuck one reluctant toe) into the cyberspacial realm by using computers.
After a time, the ole fat boy stuck a cell phone on his belt. Now this was a big deal for a fellow that was in high school before he ever talked on a phone for the first time (a 10 cent machine in a red wooden booth on a street corner in Henderson)? The ranch hand's cell phones of choice since then have intentionally ONLY included the functions of "send calls" and "receive calls". Nothing fancy for oil field folks.
All of which brings us to today's "issue":
Yours truly decided to get a "smart" phone. Yeah, this puppy does internet, motion pictures, lattes, butt scratchin', (and according to the slick salesman, "access to 5,000 apps")????
Only problem is, ever time the wanna-be nerd is trying to navigate them "apps", the phone will ring......and ol' dumbutt can't figger out how to answer the call????
So...bottom line....done went from only "send/receive" calls on a dumb phone to "no clue" how to make/answer calls on this damnable "smart" phone.
Some folks just ain't built for "modern"?
Friday, June 22, 2012
Thursday, June 14, 2012
PATIENCE
Beggin' ya'lls pardon, but the ole ranch hand be forced to add a "P.S." to the last blog, "Angel Chorus".
To add insult to injury, your humble scribe was in the garage today and noted that the bride's Tahoe (Smoky) had a rather obnoxious dent in the left front fender from the airport parking lot inflicted while the eclectic couple were frolicking in Maui????
Oh Lord, let us always be reminded of Ecclesiastes 7:8...."The end of a matter is better than its beginning, and patience is better than pride."
To add insult to injury, your humble scribe was in the garage today and noted that the bride's Tahoe (Smoky) had a rather obnoxious dent in the left front fender from the airport parking lot inflicted while the eclectic couple were frolicking in Maui????
Oh Lord, let us always be reminded of Ecclesiastes 7:8...."The end of a matter is better than its beginning, and patience is better than pride."
Tuesday, June 12, 2012
THE ANGEL CHORUS
Brad, the oldest son, recently anounced his intention to take a bride for the first time at the ripe old age of 38....joy reigned throughout...and the fact that it would be held in Maui, Hawaii significantly enhanced family enthusiasm.
Accordingly, the ole ranch hand acquired the requisite reservations and started the epic journey by rising at 4AM to arrive at the Austin barnstormin' hanger on time. Then confidently mounted the assigned aircraft at the appointed hour for a brief hop to Dallas for a plane change for the final run to Maui.
The jet jockey was jus' bout to put that puppy in rear/verse when one solid citizen-passenger pointed out to the cabin waitress that a small 4"X18" strip of plastic in the ceiling of our craft had one of its two metal screw fasteners backed out nearly half way.
The brakes went on....Mr. Technician showed up.....carefully studied the phillips head screw that had partially come unwound....and took it out completely and pulled the plastic strip down a mite to verify there was nothing but a narrow hollow space beyond. Brother Techie then wallked off the plane for a few and our driver announced they be required to file a "damage" report with FAA, file a written plan for repair, and a (backup) written plan for replacement.
So we waited...and we waited....and we, hells bells....sat there for over three hours on the tarmac while the maintenance crew and FAA played passenger tiddly winks or sumpthin?????
Finally the gods of fate intervened and the joy stick bombadier said that we had received "verbal" approval for the "plan", but would have to wait for a hard copy of the paper work before implementation.
Bout 20 minutes later our screw driver guru entered our tense domain, turned the screw a few rounds, and seemed surprised at the standing ovation given by his audience.
Unbelievable!
Finally got to Dallas...just in time to miss our flight to Maui????
Managed to wrangled another flight scheduled a bit later, but in a different terminal....RAN down the halls, up the escalators, dived into the tram cars....and plunged headlong down the coridors of the new terminal to the gate......just as that flight left?????
One more chance...the ole fat boy and his child bride got on "back-up" status for the last flight of the day to the next stop (not Maui...Los Angelas...and then to Maui????)
Yep, ran like crazed gazelles to....A DIFFERENT TERMINAL....and found there were 78 people on stand-by for that flight (but we were numbers 14 and 15).
Started praying like the God fearing, true believers we are for Devine intervention....cuz we were fresh out of bullets, near the end of the trail, and no posse left.
Every other human being at that gate got on the plane, except the two pooch lipped Tin Star Ranch country bumpkins???
The ticket agent announced there was one seat available....the mother of the groom-to-be gratefully boarded the plane with promises that her slow witted husband would be along shortly as the Lord always provides for his most humble servants. Yeah, the bride bawled and protested at going "alone", but reluctantly walked down the jetway to her matrimonial destiny.
And then a miracle began to unfold....
The little ticket gal smiled at the kindly gray haired old fart in front of her and said she would do her best "to make things right"....had to tell that charming soul flat out that if God wants me on that plane, God will put me there.....
Bout that time the angel chorus started a hollerin', trumpets blared, and that skinny leg reservation woman whipped out the last ticket for the last seat on a plane that had to hold the door open while grandpa wheezed (one mo' time) on an Olynpic sprint to his wife.
Anywho, got to LAX for the last lap of our journey to Maui....it was a wunnerful feelin'...well... except for the fact that we was runnin an hour late due to a flight delay in Dallas????
Dammit....we took off runnin' like diarhea crazed monkeys on a steady diet of ex-lax bannanas with no toilet paper. Rounded the last corner to our gate (where not one other soul was standing) just in time to hear the proclamation that boarding was over....
SLAPPED them boarding passes up side the head of the single remaining airline employee at the gate and charged like two rabid rhinos down that jetway just in time to slide our hot feet across the door and be called safe.
And just think...only 19 hours from home to hotel that day?????
(On our second day in Maui, our bag that was stranded in Dallas and the one left in LA arrived at the hotel....thank the Lord for Walmart for essentials in time of need?)
Sunday, June 3, 2012
Piece de Resistance
Doin' Que is an absolutely soul satisfying vocation, avocation, hobby, (excuse to drink beer?), pastime, mouth-watering, mindless, relaxing, coooool thang ta do!!
Ya start before the rising sun...light the seasoned oak carefully laid in the BBQ fire box the night afore...and wait til there aint nuthin' but red coals.
Get the "pit" to the right temp...slap that lovingly seasoned protein of choice on the expanded metal grate...and start the mouth watering, uncontrollable salivation, ballet of smoke and smell that would tickle the tonsils of the most devout vegetarian.
(This might be the part where more beer might be appropriate???)
Bout ever thirty minutes ya "check" the pit temp and the fire box...need wood?...use your expertly experienced eye to see-lect just the right size/shape piece of forest fuel to keep the temp right....flavor the meat lovingly...and...aw hell, open another col' beer?
Dependin' on the menu....have that steel pipe low/slow oven puppy on auto-pilot for 8-12 hours....pull it off to allow the piece de resistance to "rest"....
Slice/serve/enjoy...and the rest is culinary history.
Taste buds the world throughout...REJOICE...and chill with another beer......
Ya start before the rising sun...light the seasoned oak carefully laid in the BBQ fire box the night afore...and wait til there aint nuthin' but red coals.
Get the "pit" to the right temp...slap that lovingly seasoned protein of choice on the expanded metal grate...and start the mouth watering, uncontrollable salivation, ballet of smoke and smell that would tickle the tonsils of the most devout vegetarian.
(This might be the part where more beer might be appropriate???)
Bout ever thirty minutes ya "check" the pit temp and the fire box...need wood?...use your expertly experienced eye to see-lect just the right size/shape piece of forest fuel to keep the temp right....flavor the meat lovingly...and...aw hell, open another col' beer?
Dependin' on the menu....have that steel pipe low/slow oven puppy on auto-pilot for 8-12 hours....pull it off to allow the piece de resistance to "rest"....
Slice/serve/enjoy...and the rest is culinary history.
Taste buds the world throughout...REJOICE...and chill with another beer......
Saturday, June 2, 2012
Megan Laura
BLESSED ARE THE CHILDREN (PSALM 128)
Blessed are the children
who walk in the Lord.
Blessings and joy shall be theirs.
Theirs is the bounty,
the fruit of the vine.
Theirs is the joy of God's care.
The ranch hand's three year old niece is a pleasure to behold.
She is the embodiment of innocence, smiles, and exuberant joy on a daily basis....and she is honest.
It is so refreshing to view the world thru the eyes of a yonker. You ask a question...you get her unvarnished deadpan opinion. No dressing, no sublte meaning...just the world as she sees it.
Ask if she thinks the ranch hand is an old fat man...get ready for the answer. Ask if so-and-so is "nice" or not....yep, same stuff. The truth is the truth and they have not learned to lie, flatter, connive, or otherwise deceive.
If only the world were more child-like.
BLESSED ARE THE CHILDREN.
Blessed are the children
who walk in the Lord.
Blessings and joy shall be theirs.
Theirs is the bounty,
the fruit of the vine.
Theirs is the joy of God's care.
The ranch hand's three year old niece is a pleasure to behold.
She is the embodiment of innocence, smiles, and exuberant joy on a daily basis....and she is honest.
It is so refreshing to view the world thru the eyes of a yonker. You ask a question...you get her unvarnished deadpan opinion. No dressing, no sublte meaning...just the world as she sees it.
Ask if she thinks the ranch hand is an old fat man...get ready for the answer. Ask if so-and-so is "nice" or not....yep, same stuff. The truth is the truth and they have not learned to lie, flatter, connive, or otherwise deceive.
If only the world were more child-like.
BLESSED ARE THE CHILDREN.
Friday, June 1, 2012
DETAILS
The Roman poet Virgil wrote, "Sed fugit interea fugit irreparabile tempus, singula dum capti circumvectamur amore."
("But meanwhile it flees: time flees irretrievably, while we wander around, prisoners of our love of detail.")
Someone once told the ole ranch hand that all that matters is the bottom line.
Not how ya got there or how "purty" it might have been"....and don't sweat the details.
Oh yeah, the most important advice.....it's all "details".
Reckon it took awhile for such wisdom to sink into a formidably thick skull, but the ole fat boy is actually starting to kinda get it these days looking back on the totality of personal existence.
A lot of it was rocky, more of it dang sure wasn't purty....but hell if I didn't wind up at the twilight of my existence in a good place, with a good woman, in a world that is comfortable, secure, and a pleasure to wake up to each morn!
“Blessed is the man who finds wisdom, the man who gains understanding..... (Proverbs 3:13)
("But meanwhile it flees: time flees irretrievably, while we wander around, prisoners of our love of detail.")
Someone once told the ole ranch hand that all that matters is the bottom line.
Not how ya got there or how "purty" it might have been"....and don't sweat the details.
Oh yeah, the most important advice.....it's all "details".
Reckon it took awhile for such wisdom to sink into a formidably thick skull, but the ole fat boy is actually starting to kinda get it these days looking back on the totality of personal existence.
A lot of it was rocky, more of it dang sure wasn't purty....but hell if I didn't wind up at the twilight of my existence in a good place, with a good woman, in a world that is comfortable, secure, and a pleasure to wake up to each morn!
“Blessed is the man who finds wisdom, the man who gains understanding..... (Proverbs 3:13)
Thursday, May 31, 2012
WEEDS
"I appeal to you as a soldier to spare me the humiliation of seeing my regiment march to meet the enemy and I not share its dangers" (George Armstrong Custer)
The ranch hand has toiled in the garden of the ranch pond for nigh on eight years to raise a decent crop of bass, bream, and channel catfish.
Other than a scourge of locusts, most ever thing else has befell that ever so humble endeavor.
We be talkin' drought, turtles, snakes, predatory birds, racoons, and WEEDS!!!!
This annum, the weeds have gone steroidal, rampant, and homicidal as they have gorged on the pond nutrients to the point of fiber explosion.
E'nuff is e'nuff.
The ranch hand oozled off to "town" this fine day and secured some scientifically proven (yeah right?) liquified dynamite to ee-lim-nate the offending party.
Generously "shared" said cocktail with the "guests" this day, said a prayer (for their comfortable, but SWIFT death) and await the final results?
Now join me breathen as we say, "Bless their hearts" (not)
The ranch hand has toiled in the garden of the ranch pond for nigh on eight years to raise a decent crop of bass, bream, and channel catfish.
Other than a scourge of locusts, most ever thing else has befell that ever so humble endeavor.
We be talkin' drought, turtles, snakes, predatory birds, racoons, and WEEDS!!!!
This annum, the weeds have gone steroidal, rampant, and homicidal as they have gorged on the pond nutrients to the point of fiber explosion.
E'nuff is e'nuff.
The ranch hand oozled off to "town" this fine day and secured some scientifically proven (yeah right?) liquified dynamite to ee-lim-nate the offending party.
Generously "shared" said cocktail with the "guests" this day, said a prayer (for their comfortable, but SWIFT death) and await the final results?
Now join me breathen as we say, "Bless their hearts" (not)
FRIENDSHIP
Lots of things change in life.
The ranch hand's ubiquitous body build has somehow expanded in some places, fallen in unfortunate areas, and wrinkled beyond belief in others????
Beloved family members are gone, but not forgotten....treasured for their wisdom, contributions....and their love.
The world has somehow evolved cell phones (some smart...some Wright City dumb..like mine), computers, HD television (we had only channel 7 in B/W), and a myriad of scientific gibberish that an ole fat boy could never fathom?
Some things never change.
Starting first grade, the ranch hand made some friendships thru the various public school grades that have lasted for the long run....55 years and counting on a few. That is a measure of wealth that can not be denied.
On occasion, an ole buddy rises from the ashes of your humble scribe's senility and re-awakens that kinship of a shared past.
Thank you, GLNROZ, for that which can be truly valued.
The ranch hand's ubiquitous body build has somehow expanded in some places, fallen in unfortunate areas, and wrinkled beyond belief in others????
Beloved family members are gone, but not forgotten....treasured for their wisdom, contributions....and their love.
The world has somehow evolved cell phones (some smart...some Wright City dumb..like mine), computers, HD television (we had only channel 7 in B/W), and a myriad of scientific gibberish that an ole fat boy could never fathom?
Some things never change.
Starting first grade, the ranch hand made some friendships thru the various public school grades that have lasted for the long run....55 years and counting on a few. That is a measure of wealth that can not be denied.
On occasion, an ole buddy rises from the ashes of your humble scribe's senility and re-awakens that kinship of a shared past.
Thank you, GLNROZ, for that which can be truly valued.
Fire and Brimstone
"Upon the wicked He shall rain snares, fire and brimstone, and a horrible tempest, this shall be the portion of their cup." (Psalm 11:6)
Never let it be said that the ranch hand does not sleep soundly for a least a few winks per night.
Last night being no different, the ole fat boy hit the designated snooze pad bout 10PM and went into blessed oblivion.
At some unknown point beyond the know meridians....the good Lord reckoned it was time to wake up the gray haired fat man and do a bit of spring cleaning on the Tin Star Ranch.... and thus it was so.
Sports fans, we is talkin' "snares and fire" (thunder/roar), "brimstone" (lightnin' on steroids) and "a horrible tempest" from hell (AKA brute force wind).
Needless to say, this morn's cheery greeting include downed trees, limbs cast akimbo, everything inside the "yard"....outside the "yard" (some of which left the county).
God's will be done!
We are now cleansed....our palette is refreshed...and we are ready to start anew (Uh....dear Savior...could we maybe hold off on the next "blow" for a few til your humble ranch hand ketches up with the "clean up" on this blessing?
Never let it be said that the ranch hand does not sleep soundly for a least a few winks per night.
Last night being no different, the ole fat boy hit the designated snooze pad bout 10PM and went into blessed oblivion.
At some unknown point beyond the know meridians....the good Lord reckoned it was time to wake up the gray haired fat man and do a bit of spring cleaning on the Tin Star Ranch.... and thus it was so.
Sports fans, we is talkin' "snares and fire" (thunder/roar), "brimstone" (lightnin' on steroids) and "a horrible tempest" from hell (AKA brute force wind).
Needless to say, this morn's cheery greeting include downed trees, limbs cast akimbo, everything inside the "yard"....outside the "yard" (some of which left the county).
God's will be done!
We are now cleansed....our palette is refreshed...and we are ready to start anew (Uh....dear Savior...could we maybe hold off on the next "blow" for a few til your humble ranch hand ketches up with the "clean up" on this blessing?
Wednesday, May 30, 2012
The Work of His Hands
“The heavens declare the glory of god; the sky’s proclaim the work of His hands “ (Psalms 19:1)
God’s palette is never better illustrated than at sunset on the ranch.
The melding of pink, blue, gray, and dark hues of every description are beyond comparison or description as they become a muted blend from the horizon to infinity above.
It is but a fleeting glimpse of His glory as the scene changes each moment until it is rendered to mere history.
Mortals could never hope to transcend or duplicate this level of ethereal wonder.
The slowly moving comfort of drowsing clouds, the excited whir of the cicadas from nearby trees, and the calming dark as it settles upon the earth is like a comforting mantle.
Calming in its manner, ever gentle in its delivery.
All is right in the world and the Lord is our Savior.
God’s palette is never better illustrated than at sunset on the ranch.
The melding of pink, blue, gray, and dark hues of every description are beyond comparison or description as they become a muted blend from the horizon to infinity above.
It is but a fleeting glimpse of His glory as the scene changes each moment until it is rendered to mere history.
Mortals could never hope to transcend or duplicate this level of ethereal wonder.
The slowly moving comfort of drowsing clouds, the excited whir of the cicadas from nearby trees, and the calming dark as it settles upon the earth is like a comforting mantle.
Calming in its manner, ever gentle in its delivery.
All is right in the world and the Lord is our Savior.
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