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???
Friday, December 7, 2012
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!
Sunday, October 28, 2012
Crossin' Bridges
One fine day, me and Daddy Gene was toolin' thru Ed Wisner's pecan orchid down below the Sinclair refinery and spied a racoon perched in a tree fork just invitin' attention.
Being properly armed, we set about dispatchin' that varmit to his eternal destiny via a .22 bullit.
The next "logical" question was what to do with our obviously enviable prize?
Fortification with yeast inspired adult beverage provided the answer: We was gonna bar-b-que that sucka!
Retiring to the ubiquitous Wright City homestead, we fired up the iron smoke machine with seasoned hickory (while "firing up" our neophyte souls with more liquid "courage".)
With careful eye (and dubious appetite), me and Dad nursed that puppy all dang day with gently applied sauce basting, judicious seasoning, and ample attention to the hickory embers (while nervously sucking on the aluminum cans?).
At some point, the (brave???) adventurous chefs realized that jus' poppin' can tops and eye-ballin' the dark smoke pit delicacy wasn't accomplishin' much in the way of meaningful culinary ingestion.
Bottom line....me and Dad each whacked off a chunk of that dee-lish dish and chewed...and chewed...and chewed...and...well, that cud just got bigger and bigger in our mouths as we cogitated on the origin of our cuisine.
Ain't no fairy tale ending here. We spit that stuff out, popped another Bud, and swore a blood oath to NEVER cross that bridge again.
Being properly armed, we set about dispatchin' that varmit to his eternal destiny via a .22 bullit.
The next "logical" question was what to do with our obviously enviable prize?
Fortification with yeast inspired adult beverage provided the answer: We was gonna bar-b-que that sucka!
Retiring to the ubiquitous Wright City homestead, we fired up the iron smoke machine with seasoned hickory (while "firing up" our neophyte souls with more liquid "courage".)
With careful eye (and dubious appetite), me and Dad nursed that puppy all dang day with gently applied sauce basting, judicious seasoning, and ample attention to the hickory embers (while nervously sucking on the aluminum cans?).
At some point, the (brave???) adventurous chefs realized that jus' poppin' can tops and eye-ballin' the dark smoke pit delicacy wasn't accomplishin' much in the way of meaningful culinary ingestion.
Bottom line....me and Dad each whacked off a chunk of that dee-lish dish and chewed...and chewed...and chewed...and...well, that cud just got bigger and bigger in our mouths as we cogitated on the origin of our cuisine.
Ain't no fairy tale ending here. We spit that stuff out, popped another Bud, and swore a blood oath to NEVER cross that bridge again.
Neither Love nor Money
Ya gotta love fall.
When the pre-dawn morn has a bit of "nip" in the temperature and the elm and spanish oak leaves start to blossom in a palette of varying hues...well the old fat boy's neck starts to swell, his fur thickens, and the thought of hot chile is never far away.
The autumnal equinox inevitably tilts ole mother earth on its axis in a manner that shifts the mercury to the lesser side along with our daylight hours.
Course the resident ranch bucks ain't read that on Wikipedia like your dumass blog writer so they just know that the acorns are falling from the sky like theater popcorn and them dang does are startin' to look pretty gosh-awful fancyful?????
Yep, the Tin Star venison herd is headed toward "rut" like a meteor shower in a small dark closet and the bell has clearly "RUNG" for the courtship dance to begin!
Ah to be young again and experience the exhilaration of teenage feminine pursuit....Oh hell nah, wouldn't live that life again fer love nor money?????
When the pre-dawn morn has a bit of "nip" in the temperature and the elm and spanish oak leaves start to blossom in a palette of varying hues...well the old fat boy's neck starts to swell, his fur thickens, and the thought of hot chile is never far away.
The autumnal equinox inevitably tilts ole mother earth on its axis in a manner that shifts the mercury to the lesser side along with our daylight hours.
Course the resident ranch bucks ain't read that on Wikipedia like your dumass blog writer so they just know that the acorns are falling from the sky like theater popcorn and them dang does are startin' to look pretty gosh-awful fancyful?????
Yep, the Tin Star venison herd is headed toward "rut" like a meteor shower in a small dark closet and the bell has clearly "RUNG" for the courtship dance to begin!
Ah to be young again and experience the exhilaration of teenage feminine pursuit....Oh hell nah, wouldn't live that life again fer love nor money?????
Saturday, October 27, 2012
The Young Lions
Your venerable ranch hand has been a life-long University of Texas football fan.
Ain't no rhyme or reason for it since he has fooled three institutions of higher learning (with no affiliation to UT) into feloniously awarding (degrees?) to his dumb butt, but the chubby one has always felt a kinship for the Longhorn Nation?
There's been good years over the last 50 or so with NATIONAL CHAMPIONSHIPS and "not so good"... as in the last few....but ya gotta take the "good" with tha "bad"???
The "horns" started today with a 5-2 slate against them lowly kansas jayhawk suckas who had a 1-6 record???? A "cake walk" for sure????
In the last dang EIGHT seconds, the mighty UT Juggernaut pulled out a "W" to progress(???) to 6-2 after just squeezing out enuff points to oozle ahead????
So why does this feel like a loss to a Bevo Faithful Fan???
Psalm 34:10 tells us, "The young lions suffer want and hunger, but those who seek the Lord lack no good thing."
Let us pray that our young Longhorns are true believers that ask their Lord and Savior for Devine guidance for the remainder of our season?
Ain't no rhyme or reason for it since he has fooled three institutions of higher learning (with no affiliation to UT) into feloniously awarding (degrees?) to his dumb butt, but the chubby one has always felt a kinship for the Longhorn Nation?
There's been good years over the last 50 or so with NATIONAL CHAMPIONSHIPS and "not so good"... as in the last few....but ya gotta take the "good" with tha "bad"???
The "horns" started today with a 5-2 slate against them lowly kansas jayhawk suckas who had a 1-6 record???? A "cake walk" for sure????
In the last dang EIGHT seconds, the mighty UT Juggernaut pulled out a "W" to progress(???) to 6-2 after just squeezing out enuff points to oozle ahead????
So why does this feel like a loss to a Bevo Faithful Fan???
Psalm 34:10 tells us, "The young lions suffer want and hunger, but those who seek the Lord lack no good thing."
Let us pray that our young Longhorns are true believers that ask their Lord and Savior for Devine guidance for the remainder of our season?
Monday, October 22, 2012
Proof of Manhood
The ole ranch hand and his beautiful bride recently hosted the First Annual Tin Star Ranch Chili Cook-Off.
After careful cogitation and reflection, your humble fat boy has decided on some chili cook-off "do's and don'ts" fer true Texas CHAMPIONS to foller:
1. Scorch up the ranch dirt road in a pickup truck and a cloud of dust....the bigger the better on both counts, especially them monster dually diesels with gargantuan brush guards in front.
2. There ain't no way, no how, to have too much duct tape or too much adult beverage (dometic only...none that dang imported stuff!) when chili cuisine is involved.
3. Pre-tasting snacks is good....Jack Daniels whiskey is the best "snack", especially if ya is lookin' to soften up the competition.
4. Always, ALWAYS prominently display an American and Texas flag to show true redneck patriotism (and never bring up taxes, the president, or the price of deer corn 'less ya want your hind end scorched off).
5. Dress is optional...especially fer the wimmen folk, but men must wear ragged boots with their jeans tucked in the top of them poo kickers, rodeo belt buckles, and tee shirts and hats with logos of beer, cars, sports teams, or trophy buck deer. Facial hair is optional, but not with encrusted chili after having passed out with your face in a bowl of Texas Red.
6. Braggin' on your chili masterpiece is pre-judging mandatory conduct...victory dances after winning are frowned on, especially if you are too drunk to know you were not really the winner?
7. Tellin' hunting, fishing, and other lies at a cook-off should be an Olympic sport...and the first liar never has a chance.
8. And last, but not least, actually ingesting any of that greasy stuff is absolutely NOT a prerequisite for anything. Just showin' up and listening to all the BS of your kinfolk is proof enuff of manhood!
After careful cogitation and reflection, your humble fat boy has decided on some chili cook-off "do's and don'ts" fer true Texas CHAMPIONS to foller:
1. Scorch up the ranch dirt road in a pickup truck and a cloud of dust....the bigger the better on both counts, especially them monster dually diesels with gargantuan brush guards in front.
2. There ain't no way, no how, to have too much duct tape or too much adult beverage (dometic only...none that dang imported stuff!) when chili cuisine is involved.
3. Pre-tasting snacks is good....Jack Daniels whiskey is the best "snack", especially if ya is lookin' to soften up the competition.
4. Always, ALWAYS prominently display an American and Texas flag to show true redneck patriotism (and never bring up taxes, the president, or the price of deer corn 'less ya want your hind end scorched off).
5. Dress is optional...especially fer the wimmen folk, but men must wear ragged boots with their jeans tucked in the top of them poo kickers, rodeo belt buckles, and tee shirts and hats with logos of beer, cars, sports teams, or trophy buck deer. Facial hair is optional, but not with encrusted chili after having passed out with your face in a bowl of Texas Red.
6. Braggin' on your chili masterpiece is pre-judging mandatory conduct...victory dances after winning are frowned on, especially if you are too drunk to know you were not really the winner?
7. Tellin' hunting, fishing, and other lies at a cook-off should be an Olympic sport...and the first liar never has a chance.
8. And last, but not least, actually ingesting any of that greasy stuff is absolutely NOT a prerequisite for anything. Just showin' up and listening to all the BS of your kinfolk is proof enuff of manhood!
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