Don't Ranch This
“Don’t ranch this, Lisa.”
The engineer and I were discussing the consequences of cutting a 30-inch vent hole into the ceiling of my building.
We wondered how to keep 500 pounds of concrete from landing inside my boiler and whether a 30-inch hole would weaken the thoroughfare for second story tenants.
Clearly, he knew how to reach into my head.
Despite the engineer’s warning, I’m proud of the way ranchers get things done no matter what they face.
It might involve yellow twine -- or maybe a heat lamp -- but a solution will be found.
Years ago when my husband and I bought this ranch, only one spring was developed, with a line to our house for a gravity-fed water supply.
The barn had no water.
I was pregnant so it didn’t take long to get tired of hauling water for the horses in the corral by loading five garbage cans in the back of the pickup, filling them with water at the house, driving the water to the corral at the barn and dumping them into a trough.
The horses had water, but my back hurt.
So I bought three heated water troughs from the local co-op and asked a contractor to extend the water line to the barn.
The water troughs were inexpensive to begin with and even cheaper because the co-op was discontinuing them.
I should have seen that huge red flag waving in my face.
Not long after installation, a ewe broke the chintzy plastic float.
I had saved a dime but it cost me a dollar.
The troughs had been discontinued so the co-op had a severely-limited supply of replacement parts.
By then, I could see that this would be a recurring problem so I bought all the parts they had.
Next, the heat blanket that kept the trough bowl warm detached so the trough froze.
I tried gluing the blanket back to the trough bowl, but that didn’t work so I devised a complicated maze of sticks to prop up the blanket close to the bowl.
That solution worked for a couple of years, but the sticks eventually fell and the blanket shorted out.
A replacement heat blanket was not in my stash of extra parts.
I stuck a heat lamp under the trough bowl and it has worked ever since.
If the trough freezes, I change the light bulb.
The engineer who offered advice about my 30-inch vent hole did not want me to prop sticks up against the 18-foot-high ceiling to hold it up.
I was pretty sure sticks would work, but I went along with him -- mostly because I was still giggling at the words he used to convince me.
“Don’t ranch this, Lisa.”
The correctly-engineered vent hole is just one puzzle piece of my entire food manufacturing kitchen.
The epoxy floor, the PVC walls, the swinging doors, the plexiglass windows, the 3-compartment sink and the shiny blue retort are all installed and ready to make food.
Not a single knot of yellow twine holds any of it in place.
It’s bittersweet.
I’m proud of my kitchen, but a little piece of me misses the yellow twine.
My team of amazing contractors is finished, the recipes have been confirmed and we are ready to make and sell Lamb Curry, Beef Stew, Beef Marinara Sauce and Lamb Stew to people who want the convenience of heating and eating.
We will host an open house for anyone who wants to see how it all works at the old Arnot Building in Conrad on Thursday, July 9, at 2 p.m.
Maybe I’ll hide a piece of yellow twine in a dark corner, just to ranch this a little bit.