Oh, who cares? So here's the new plan, we're going to scrap the idea of feeding people until we have been "discovered" (some tremors have been felt). Pending that taking place over time we're going to provide refuge and counseling to wayward and stressed out porn stars. Yes, they need love too and have gobs of dough. We've already gotten a call from Dick Hardlee asking if our hot tub could accommodate his ginormous erect penis. I explained to him that we take saunas around here and that if he were to lie down on the bench, his stiffened tallywhacker would probably only just barely touch the ceiling. Of course someone else would have to open the door for him upon exiting so as to allow him to swing the monstrous monolith through as he rolls off the bench. Frenchy Latoure's manager, Armand Phisther called and wanted to make sure that Frenchys Yabo's, which are insured for ten mill, would not have any encounter whatsoever with flying insects, cockroaches, whipped cream or spiders of any ilk. I told him she should seek refuge elsewhere as i have no control when it comes to whipped cream. We here at the Rancho consider this move to be simply getting in step with the Evangelical Christian sex revolution which councils abstinence until marriage and then hot wax, X-tenz, dildos with bumps, dirty talkn' and wild fornicatin' thereafter. Its a billion dollar industry and we're hitchin' our wagon to it. "But you're Jewish", you might quip. Exactly. Like so many things these days, you don't have to believe in it to profit from it. "Selling out", you say? I will go forth and do the lords work. Eateth my shorts. Amen . Nurse Lindsey spontaneously combusted a few days ago. Either that, or she left and I spaced out. There was a small pile of ashes on the floor of her room with her eyeglasses in the exact epicenter. I had this vision of a controlled demolition with her collapsing in a pile of blue flame as her glasses popped off her head and landed gently on the pile. She has that Hogwarts alumnus quality about her. Actually she's cruising, using the "way of the wwoofer" as her guide. On to Molokai where its yoga and mud baths, then to the mainland where she is entered in a competition to determine the fastest talking female on the planet. Contestants are judged on the basis of words per second, emotional content, intellectual grasp, dimples and cleavage. She's a shoe in. The gardens are popping with summer growth. The melons, recently planted are starting to crawl their way to flowering. We planted them no till style but used rock enclosures back filled with soil from under the chicken roosts. Very robust growth. They're planted along the fence line for the leghorn enclosure so we intend to run some peas and beans. Lazy days around here. About ready for a rest by ten, ten thirty, then back at it around five for an evening of watering and gathering eggs. Nice to hang out with the plants around sunset when they really appreciate a soaking before twilight. All in all, in the groove, five by five. I've posted some photo galleries on the web site www.ranchorelaxzo.com (still under construction) under the Organic Farming tab. It makes a nice slide show and will give you an idea of the diversity. I'm about to post about thirty five more pics. Check it out. So far, i've been spammed three times from Russia. Cool. Speaking of cool, I may be delusional but the party on the fifth had me all aflutter. From the sunset, to the food to the fine "core" group of musicians who have weathered just about everything together and come through yukkin' it up. Tanks eh, for the energy infused into this old termite infested home sweet home. To have been chosen host of these happenings resonates in my happy place. }:-} Some of you may not know this, but I like to burn a good doob from time to time. Now i've got this friend. Lets call him Affy Goolefe (to protect the innocent). He's one of those guys who oozes enthusiasm when the right idea at the right time rears its rosy cheeks. Seems that growing the good herb was that idea. Gave him a few wazza wazza's and lemme showyahs so he uses me as a beta tester 'cause hey, been there. So cool to see someone cozy up to the plant world and alter their mindset. So anyway, he comes by the other day and we shoot the shit and cruise the orchards and talk some nonsense and end up back at the house around sunset. He proceeds to whip out a bag of the recently grown and perfectly cured Kookamonga Mistral x Chinese Water Torture. "You're good at rolling, twist one up", he said. "K", I replied. "Just be careful because this stuff will rip your tip". I made one of those "phuuffffffuffff sort of sounds. As a joke, I went and got my old geiger counter (don't ask) out of the tool shed and set it next to the bag. I smiled in jest as I turned it on. We both hit the floor as it exploded. After that, I took only one hit, at a time. So plan B it is. When getting old gets old one only need invoke the Almighty Goobers one and only edict: " Embrace and transcend, don't ever stop, live the moment and bop till you drop."  Next week, The Open Championship. Who's the happy guy? I did, I did, I taw a puddytat. The more you show, the more we'll grow. Peace be, Jp