bars

A little story to jump-start your Monday:

So I signed up (again) to sponsor the after-church goodie and coffee time. Instead of being stressed because I had forgotten about this until the last minute........I had everything planned out ahead of time, right down to the sweetened condensed milk. I was going to make some homemade bread, a big salad with fresh veggies, and two pans of the bars I have been craving for a LONG time....Payday bars. They taste just like the candy bar. Peanuts, marshmallows, kind of like a salted nut roll. mmmmm...

I looked up a recipe on Thursday, and on SAturday it was off to Cub to pick up the remaining ingredients. I very rarely go to the grocery store with a list or recipe in hand...I usually buy the cheapest food I can find at the best deals and then make something up when I get home. But this time, I was completely out-of-character. I had a list, I clipped coupons, and I made Julia ride in the cart. We were out of Cub in record time. This is another odd happening....those of you who know me at all are aware of my ability to be early. It is not one of my strong points, to say the least.

At any rate, I spent an hour last night making the bars. I helped Julia lick out the pan. They smelled heavenly and it took everything in me to not dive into a pan of them. (Who would know if I ate a few and then cut up the rest and put em' on a display plate?) But again, the odd thing happened. I somehow found the willpower to leave both pans of bars alone. Another totally out-of-character move.

I was supposed to refrigerate the bars overnight, but our fridge was too full. I put them on the back steps instead, with the covers tightly fastened.

....

The next morning (this morning) I was enjoying a morning shower when Husband rudely stuck his head in and shouted, "You'd better hurry up, woman. Your bars are GONE. I think something ate them."

WHAT?!?!

I went through the Kubler-Ross stages of grief very quickly. The first one, denial, hit me. The bars weren't really gone. Mike was just being silly. And mean. Very mean. That Jerk. I"ll get him back during the sermon today....

I arrived downstaris in a bathrobe and went out to check out the scene of the crime for myself. Sure enough, both of my pans were open, and only a few wet slippery peanuts remained. I then experienced the next stage: Anger. THAT RAT/RACCOON/BEAVER/DOG/CAT/ELEPHANT/JULIA (every mom who finds something terrible has happend always thinks of blaming the three-year-old) who ate my bars will PAY for their crime!

The bargaining phase set in: maybe I can just bring the drooly peanuts to church and we can eat that. wait. Scratch that. Speaking of scratch that, read on.....

I investigated the scene some more. There was drool in my cake pan. One of them was full of little brown fur. Squirrels aren't brown. Whoever it was sure likes peanuts. Elephants like peanuts, but they are not in Duluth, as far as I know. Do beavers like peanuts? There were TWO POUNDS Of peanuts in those bars. Raccoons? Skunks? I smelled a skunk last night. Just then, I saw the covers. My precious rubbermaid cake pan covers were strewn across the back patio like garbage. When I picked one up and examined it, I gasped.

There was an enormous paw print on one of my cake pan covers, complete with giant claw marks, as big as my hand. This was definitely no squirrel.

I talked to my neighbor, who is a major plant/animal fiend, and a Duluth native. After she laughed until she cried, she told me, "honey, that wasn't a raccoon or a skunk in your bars...it was definitely the work of a BEAR."

A BEAR?

In my backyard?

In TOWN?

Eating MY BARS?!?!?

This information quickly pushed me into the acceptance stage. A giant bear ate my Payday bars. Both pans. And I am not about to try and get them back.

Good thing I keep the house stocked with rice krispies and marshmallows for emergencies like this...