Posted on 05/03/2013 8:22:46 PM PDT by Route395
About 30 minutes into my job as a picker, the strawberry fairy left her first gift. On one of the beds of berries that seemed to stretch forever into the Santa Maria marine layer, Elvia Lopez had laid a little bundle of picked fruit. She and the other three dozen Mexican immigrants in the field were bent at an almost 90-degree angle, using two hands to pack strawberries into plastic containers that they pushed along on ungainly one-wheeled carts. They moved forward, relentlessly, ever bent, following a hulking machine with a conveyor belt that spirited away their fruit. But Lopez, a 31-year-old immigrant from Baja California, knew I was falling behind.
(Excerpt) Read more at latimes.com ...
I am sorry to hear you have this affection. You should seek help for it. Its called paranoid obsessive compulsive disorder.
No, it just tastes “chemicalish.” It’s probably residue from whatever they used to wash it. I’ve eaten “T-Rations” including eggs canned for seven years prior to serving and they don’t taste as funky as bagged “ready to eat” lettuce.
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