Something to Blog About

Lance and I have been serving in the nursery almost as long as we've been married. As a result, neither of us has been to any adult Sunday meetings in almost nine months. Now that I am involved with the Young Women organization and Lance continues as the ward Executive Secretary, we've finally graduated to attending classes where full and complete sentences are the norm. Having Lance return to Elder's Quorum meetings has produced an interesting effect, however. Namely, that he likes to volunteer for everything.

This is not a bad thing. I just find it kind of amusing. And, since Lance signed himself up to help out at the Church-run cannery in Lindon this morning, I decided to come along rather than feel bored and guilty at home, and it proved to be quite an, um, memorable experience.

After washing our hands and donning our plastic aprons and hairnets, we were given a little orientation about safety. There were illustrations to match-- a stick figure straining his back from lifting incorrectly, a pipe blowing hot steam, and hand with four fingers chopped off. We both giggled a little at that last one-- it was quite detailed. Oh, the irony.

Today's fare was pork and beans. The cans came down on a conveyor belt and passed the pork guys (Lance included) who made sure each can got a glob of ground bacon at the bottom. Meanwhile, the beans were washed in the hopper and also took a trip up a conveyor belt, which then dumped them into the machine which filled the cans. The belt under this machine shook wildly back and forth so that the cans filled up evenly. My job came next. The cans then passed under a juice fountain, where they were filled to the brim with a thin sort of tomato sauce before the lids were sealed on. I was to make sure the cans were full, and to keep stray pork and bean bits from clogging up the grate underneath, where the excess juice ran off. It meant that for about three hours I was splattered with hot juice while I stood in a breeze of pure steam. Man, I was so sticky afterward that if you had thrown me on a wall I probably would have stuck to it just like velcro! Although tedious and incredibly noisy, it was neat to watch how the machinery worked and to know that our efforts would bless countless numbers of people.

There were a couple of other jobs as well, including putting the cans in the giant steamer, and then packaging the finished cans into boxes. Then there was the brother behind me who was stuffing bacon into the meat grinder. Can you tell where this story is going?

Everything was fine until I heard the poor guy trying to yell over the tumultuous noise, "It got my finger! It got my finger!" He was clutching his hand tightly and looking desperate. The missionaries rushed him out of the processing area to the hand washing basin and stuck his hand into a pitcher full of ice-- you know, those same clear plastic pitchers they have in every chapel across the country. I turned around and indeed, there at the end where the ground meat came out, I could see the tip of a blue gloved finger amid the greasy chunks of bacon. They took the machine apart to remove it and put it into ice as well.

The police came and while everyone waited for the ambulance, I noticed Lance sit down on some nearby stairs. I went over to talk to him when he rather abruptly got up, ripped off his apron, and disappeared. Turns out the whole ordeal made him rather queasy! Although neither of us really saw any blood or guts, the idea enough was sufficient to make one nauseous. I myself had to concentrate hard not to notice how red the sauce was, and what the dried chunks on my gloves looked like. Lance had to pass the poor guy leaning over the basin in order to make it to the bathroom and almost passed out on the floor. As soon as he thought he was well he came back to man his post, tossing in the greasy, slimy bacon bits... you can guess how helpful that was. He ripped off his second apron and went to lay down in the waiting room until the shift ended, which was about 15 minutes later.

My heart aches for that poor brother. Fortunately at least his finger didn't actually get caught in the actual grinding machinery, where I'm sure it could have yanked in his whole hand. He was pulling out the ground meat at the end and stuck his finger in a little too far, where it got neatly chopped off right below the fingernail by the last rotating blades. The senior missionary next me me leaned over after the ordeal and said, "Well, this is certainly the worst day I've ever had here!" They've had plenty of minor cuts, scrapes, and burns, but no severed appendages. I guess we picked the lucky day to volunteer.

I hope the poor guy is alright. While Lance was outside getting the color back into his face, he heard the man say he had also just lost his job. A trip to the emergency room probably won't help his financial situation. Since we didn't really know him, I don't know how the story ended. We just prayed and hoped, and tried not to barf in the beans.

After our shift was over (and the new girls coming in had pretty wide eyes, having just witnessed the injured man making his way to the ambulance), we were allowed to buy some of the goods we canned for our food storage supply. We bought a case of pork and beans, ohne finger-- although I don't think I'll be able to eat it anytime in the near future.

Firsts

This Memorial Day was my first Memorial Day as a married woman. Not just any married woman, but a woman who married the one and only truly wonderful Lance Rees, whose family has a huge reunion up at their grandparents' cattle ranch in Morgan, Utah every year. Therefore, it was also my first time at the annual Rees Family Memorial Day Reunion.

We started out the day by visiting the cemetery up in Morgan, where Lance's grandparents, great-grandparents, and others are buried. This was also a first for me, considering that visiting the gravesides of our loved ones on Memorial Day was never a tradition for the Fifes. Nevertheless it was very interesting (and educational, too). After that, we all headed over to the ranch, which is now run by one of Lance's uncles.
Although this was my first participation in the annual family get-together, it wasn't my first time visiting the Ranch. The place is huge, and it's beautiful. There's hills, a spring, a river, a reservoir, acres upon acres of land, and of course, cattle. We had a huge potluck picnic out on Grandma Rees' old lawn, with lots of games and general merry-making for the all the little ones. I was a little nervous at first, knowing there would be about a hundred people there that I didn't know, but it ended up being a wonderful day. The weather was great and the company was, too. And of course, the Rees Family Reunion wouldn't be the Rees Family Reunion without shooting the breeze-- and I don't mean conversation.

Yes, I'm talking about rifles and .22's. Clay pigeons and soda cans. Oh yeah, and some microwaves filled with fertilizer bombs. Of all the "firsts" of the day, I suppose this has to be the most notable: Even I took a few shots, believe it or not! I have to admit, this is a culture totally foreign to me, and I've never fully understood the draw of hunting. However, I will say that although I did it mostly to make Lance proud of me, it was in fact, enjoyable--mostly because I blasted my first two clay pigeons right outta the sky. And we'll just stop there! I was mostly afraid of knocking out some of my molars, and as anyone one who knows anything about shooting will see how wrong my technique is, I did manage to keep a hold of the gun and only had a mildly sore shoulder the next day.

All in all it was a great day. Hope the weather's just as good next year!

Odds and Ends

I always mean to write more frequently, but somehow I never seem to get around to it. Today I showed up at work only to find out that I wasn't on the schedule, so they sent me home and I went back to sleep. So, with my newly discovered extra time I have decided to update the ol' blog.

I guess a lot of odd things haven't happened, but I do have something to say about an end-- Hansi's rear end, that is. It's fixed! The mechanics at University Collision did a great job of fixing him up and I have to say it is great to have him back. Although I am deeply grateful to Lance's parents for letting us borrow their car for two whole weeks, I felt about forty years older driving around in a Buick Century.

In other news, Lance continues to make good progress on the Chicken Mansion. Although he has not yet installed the electrical wiring or the hot tub, as you can see the roof is almost completed. We also scratched the tanning bed idea when we were reminded that spending several hours out in the sun on a mildly warm and windy day can cause extensive skin damage for free. I'm still peeling.

Lance shouldn't have all the fun-- I can play with wood, too. I promised Mom a picture of my project and so here it is: The pieces were already cut out, I just painted them. Of course, with the weather finally warming up I don't think it will be an appropriate decoration for much longer.

In other attempts to beautify our tiny space, we bought a hanging basket which has pretty much exploded outside our door. If you look in the window you can see Lance's reflection. He has joined a softball league again this year and we have fun going to the Thursday night games- especially when he wins.

And to wrap it up, just a quick mention of our past week. We had lots of fun with our special visitors from Germany, my old companion Becky and her husband (Lance's Golden), Manuel, and their cute baby James. Over the weekend we then got to go down to St. George for my cousin Wilma's wedding. The best part was getting to see Mom and Dad again, but the whole trip was fun. Unfortunately we forgot the camera so I don't have any pictures-- you'll just have to imagine it. And while you are imaging that, you can try to guess what happened to the bag of Amish Friendship bread I left on the counter while we were gone. Oh wait, you don't have to imagine that part. I have a picture.

That's about it. The only other new thing is that I've been called to be the Beehive advisor for the two beehives in our ward. I think it is going to be fun, and it will help me get to know the girls better before camp-- considering that my other ward calling is Assistant Camp Director. We'll see how that goes...