"Get me one of them green jobbers, and baptize it."

If you know me very well, you have probably heard me tell Papa stories. If you've never met the man himself, most people think I exaggerate the slight southern drawl and hitched cadence I take on when I relay his stories. But, if you have, you know it's actually pretty accurate. Now, Brother Bear and Nick Blake are really the one's who know every minute Papa quirk, but I get a few good laughs on my own, too.

I took these photos at the Rancho before I left for London when I went out to feed the horses with Papa. I hadn't seen this concoction yet, but apparently he welded this beach umbrella to his Holland tractor to stay out of the sun whilst working.


The man himself with Midnight, and a Healthy Choice Chocolate Icecream Bar, a Nana and Papa favorite.

The "golf cart on steroids" and one of the shops littered with scrap metal, metal working machines, jigsaws, alfalfa hay and old washing machine parts. That "little" pup is Daisy, a Bull Mastiff puppy Nana and Papa picked up at the pound a couple of weeks ago only to find out, when googled, that Bull Mastiffs get HUGE. I mean, St. Bernard huge.

(** WARNING!! Potentially offensive political opinion shortly ensuing!!**)

Recently, at a dinner party, Nana was explaining that, through Google, they learned that Daisy would always be sort of lethargic and good natured due to her impending size.

To this, Papa added, "I knew that dawg was a Democrat the moment I laid eyes on her, cause she's lazy, and all she wants to do is eat my food."

A friend at the table retorted, "That's funny, Buddy. I didn't know dogs picked political parties."

To which Papa replied, "Well, then look at Hilary."

... Don't kill the messenger, just laugh at her jokes.