Saturday, January 5, 2013

24.6 Cubic Feet of Meat

... what a sweet, sweet sight it is.

Beef mix, chicken necks, chicken backs, chicken grind, chicken feet, elk liver, beef liver, pork kidneys, muskrats, deer hearts, deer lungs, deer ribs. 

Upstairs I have pork liver, beef pancreas, more deer hearts, more elk liver, more beef mix, more chicken grind, more chicken necks.  We're good for awhile!

This is the story of our third major beef run. Today, Aryn and I learned how much beef you can fit in the bed of a shortbox Chevrolet 1500 Silverado... 53 boxes.  1,590 pounds.  I also learned that lifting 1,590 pounds of meat four times is one hell of a workout. (I guess that equals 212 reps of lifting 30lb weights, in the bitter cold, without a hat or gloves. Standing in the back of a pickup truck.  Hardcore!)

We're getting better at this. It's down to a science, folks. We left at 4:00 am, and got back to town at 5:38 pm. It only took us 11 minutes to hand out everyone's orders at the drop-off location.  That is 800+ miles of driving, plus potty and refueling breaks, plus the actual handling of said 1,590 pounds of dead cow... in less than 14 hours.  We. Are. Good.

Nothing too major happened on the trip. Somehow we ended up listening to a Mexican radio station, then switched over to pop stations and heard Justin Bieber's "Beauty and a Beat" song way too many times. We also successfully managed to go the entire day without cheating on the paleo diet, which is huge because usually we end up caving and eating toxic food because we're simply too tired to fight temptation. Thirteen hours in a car plus sleep deprivation is basically a recipe for poor eating habits.

It was more complicated this time. The supplier lost Aryn's order, so we had to wait around for them to put it together last-minute. We ordered three different formulas in three different size increments, which made organization of the load practically impossible. Everyone was in a hurry. The four boxes that we needed to have easily accessible ended up being shoved in the far back of the truck bed, which caused a 15-minute meat-searching ordeal just outside Platteville.


"We have more meat in our bed than you have in yours!" 

"I really need to take a crash-course in Spanish..." 

"Let me pull out my math and do some calculations..."  

"Shut up! We all have deficiencies in some form or another... mine happens to be in telling left from right!" 

"Why doesn't the drivers side have an Oh Shit handle?  Is this Chevy's way of saying the man needs to drive the big truck, and his little woman has to sit in the passenger seat?  I'm gonna write them a letter!"

"Shit, I knew I should have cooked more bacon!"


That's all I've got.  I think it's time for painkillers and sleep. 

1 comment:

  1. 1 point for referencing the OH SHIT handle

    1 more point for having a left and right deficiency, just like me!


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