Dirty Job #9

Really, twas just a continuation of Dirty Jobs 5 and 8. Today I started out harvesting string beans in the morning, but then moved on to just becoming a general farm hand.

I started the day about 8:30 in the morning, which was almost on time. String beans grow on vine like plants low to the ground, so basically, yes; I’m bending down like a Mexican getting strawberries. I have a new farmer tan (any scout friends, yes, its equivalent to “Viper’s”, almost worse).

Then there was lunch, I almost just had the pb+j I brown bagged from home for lunch, but Ray’s gf happened to be making pasta, and Ray said, “whatcha gonna go on lunch for, just wait a few minutes, and have lunch with me, we’re having pasta”. Twas good, the Italian fest continued. Now, I don’t like olives, but Ray, believing that every good Italian boy should like olives, before I could even say “no thanks” decided to dump a third of a bowl on my plate… guess who got to eat a whole pile of olives today…

We spent a good portion of the day brain storming, planning, scheming, and strategerizing a new business, yes, I’m talking about the one that he offered to be partners in earlier, I think I’m going to take him up on it. Apparently though, he was thinking of having his family do the physical work, and I’d market it overseas (especially to military families). In other words, I might go to one of the father-lands and home of the greatest empire of the world this summer (don’t worry Mims, you’ll still have the boot all to yourself, if it happens, it won’t happen till August).

After lunch, we went back to work packaging the freshly picked string beans, and then… there was a visit from my “Rachel” (reference to yesterday’s blog “I could be a Jacob…”)

Sigh…

During lunch, I found out she isn’t married, and suddenly, a faint bit of hope arose within me.

Then there was more work, picked/buddled a variety of other vegetables. Then, towards the end of the day as we where washing everything and prepping it all for Ray to go to the market tomorrow, I became a mohel for corn.

A mohel (pronounce moy-el) is a Jewish man specially trained in the art of circumcision.

How did I become a corn mohel? Very glad you asked. Ray likes his corn to look good, and so, I went through an entire bin of freshly picked corn, and cut the tip off of them.

Then, as the day was finishing, my “Rachel” returned once more, however, she brought my competition for her heart, yes, her boyfriend. I believe he has a slight advantage over me however in the fact that he also happens to be the father of her kids that I mentioned earlier.

Sigh… Fail…

Anyway; hard work aside, today was a really good day. Ray gives my Italian skills a lot of credit, a lot more than I give them that’s for sure. He tells all his family that swings by to talk Italian to me, and emphasizes the .000003% Italian blood that I might maybe have. It is neat though. When his daughter (my “Rachel”) came back 6 hours later she said, “wow, your still here helping my dad!” at this point, I was about to make a move, until the massive guy walking behind her came up. So I just smiled and nodded, her reply, “you seem like a good hard worker”, Ray stepped in,
“ah, he’s a real good Woggy boy”.

Oh, if I forgot to mention it earlier, they call Italian immigrants (specifically farm hands) “Wogs” (and “Dagos” and “Wops”). So, right around 8:15, we finished working, yes... nearly 12 hours after starting. That's alright though, why?

I like working with Ray, and from the sound of it, I’ll pretty much be finishing up my time in Leeton working with Ray.


Bona Note Amici.