We worked at the cannery last night.
A few months ago, we moved to the Sacramento area. I put the address to the LDS Cannery in my iphone to map it, but forgot to put in the word, “Ave.” We ended up at an abandoned field, down by Elk Grove.
No cannery.
My son and his wife were in the back seat, my husband driving, and I was calling someone in the ward for more info. Not much luck there. However, my son mapped it on his iphone using the words, “cannery” and “current location.” Up came the LDS Cannery and yes, we had traveled too far.
Actually, an hour.
About 7:50 pm we arrived, and the canning foreman greeted us, wondering where to put us to work (since we were late). I think they had enough people already, but he wanted to make sure we got our blessings.
So, six lucky people got to go home early. The four of us replaced them.
The men took to loading the empty cans, Arleene watched the cans get filled, and I loaded the lids for the cans on some churning beast of a piece of equipment. It was tomato juice flowing into the cans and it was spilling out everywhere, including our shoes and pants. We weren’t too prepared for that.
On the way home, my son said he could do that as a volunteer, for the cause of zion and the law of consecration. If it was his job, he would be figuring out how much he was making per can. None of us like thinking about money. You tend to think about it when you do not have any money coming in.
Both my son and husband are looking for work, or I mean money. They are working. Arleene is a freelance Mac makeup artist, waiting for work, I freelance write for Livestrong.com. I guess I am making enough for my lunch money, but that is it.
“Work we must but the lunch is free,” we keep saying.
But someone is always taking away our lunch money.
