Another 'blessing' of being the bishop's wife is the opportunity to meet and feed the missionaries of the ward. Since I love to cook and they are very enthusiastic, I don't mind, really.
Most of the time.
But there are times when I wonder at the wisdom of letting the little punks out of their cages so early in life.
Our ward boundaries are very large and we have four pairs of missionaries to manage it all. If we feed each companionship once a week, that's the whole month and then we start over.
This last weekend, events conspired against us - well, me - and I wasn't going to be home in time for dinner. So Tarzan ordered in, met the missionaries (plus some random stranger off the street they invited without telling us!! Whole other post right there) fed them, excused them and dashed off to a meeting.
When I finally got home, this is the scene that met me in the dining room:
The microwave had seem better days and there were other surprises left in the restroom too, but this is a family blog.
This is me and that's why men are supposed to get married.