Moose Munch Man

We all know that the Rickster is a gem, though buried deeply in layers of gravel.

We were supposed to have a missionary correlation meeting last night. First, the missionaries canceled. They are kind of the whole point of the meeting--so that should have been a sign. But not to Mr. Positive. He forged on toward the meeting. 

We'd been given the 5-gallon drum of popcorn from the home teachers, so I got online and found recipes for moose munch, and then proceeded to wade into the munchy mess. The recipe isn't hard, but it's not for a kitchen-mess-aphobe (like me.) 

Therefore, I donned my trusty, new apron and mixed me some messy moose treats. Dark and white chocolate, nuts, pretzels, and popcorn scattered everywhere. I was forced to eat mountains of the creation just to keep it off the counter and floor. Though plenty shot out into the far corners of the room,  Lola valiantly did her part and was hyped from consuming the chocolate flotsam. 

The apron was a boon. You're right, Jamie, it does make me feel like a cook. I pranced around as if I knew what I was doing.  Finally, I packed that mixture into festive sacks ready to gift them to our meeting attenders.

(Oh, and while I was still dressed in my kitchen frock, I asked Rick to take a picture. Above is the picture: the apron. Do you notice anything missing? Like my head.

I want to explain that the apron is entirely made from repurposed materials. Isn't that frugal of me!

The skirt part and the bib section are made from a dresser skirt I had in Idaho. The ruffle I took off of a vest I bought at a clothing consignment store. The rest of the material was left over from previous projects. The apron cost nothing to make.)

We went to the meeting, armed with the treats and enthusiasm. Seven o'clock came and went. No one. Rick insisted that we wait a few minutes.  7:05--7:10--7:15.

 Cue the cricket chirps in the emptiness. chirp, chirp...

 I picked up my sack of bagged munch, turned out the lights, and slinked out the door with Rick looking hack as if peering into the emptiness would produce people.

We rode home with Rick muttering about how he was sure there would be messages on the answering machine as to why no one showed...

"Sure, Rick,  something unforeseen came up at the last minute on Christmas Eve eve...They had us right up there on the to-do list and we just got shuffled into the void. It'll be fine, Honey. Don't fret." (And don't look at the answering machine 'cause there is no light flashing.)

So I will wear the apron while I eat all that un-gifted moosey mix.

Merry Christmas Eve. I think we're going to Old Town Glendale tonight to see the lights. I planned going to "True Grit" too, but Moose Munch Man thinks that might keep us out too late. Oy!