We're Not Dead

When we threw in the grape-picking towel in search of a more lucrative and less finger-breaking career, we hoped we’d find it in the night-scottrading business.  No dice!  Instead, two sleepless and harried nights later, we found ourselves in the lap of the unique and resume-building opportunity as machine operators at an almond factory.  I bought my first pair of steel-toed boots per almond factory policy three weeks ago and have been wearing them ever since.  Adam didn’t have to buy steel-toed boots because the camper cruiser came with a pair, size 10.5 US.  What a deal!  Adam is in charge of the inshell almond bagging machine and the inshell almond bagging boys.  He gets to stand around and push buttons occasionally and tell the bagging boys to do their job.  Which is a really good deal for him because he’s still a sore duck from the accident.  I get to push buttons on these very large machines called satakes that sort up to 25,000 kgs of inshell almonds per hour and send the good almonds to Adam and the bad almonds to be cracked out to kernel.   Yes, it may indeed sound glamorous, but at times it’s not.  Mainly the times when Adam becomes overwhelmed with almonds and the overflow almond belt becomes overwhelmed with almonds and you get pelted by almonds raining from a height of many many metres above.  Ouch!  But we don’t get paid the untaxed big bucks for nothing, I guess.  


In the down time, we are a well-oiled (bacon-fed) camping machine.  But more on the camping life and the food you eat while camping and the food the australian animals in your medieval  gazebo tent eat to come.  Later, goannas!