This Post Has Nothing To Do With Pie...
As I type this, Jeanne and her husband Dale are being sworn in as members of the Elks club. After baking in their kitchen for the past few months, we've sorta of gotten used to the place. And plus, if you are a member, you can buy cocktails for like a dollar from their super secret keycard-access-only lounge. The Elks should have really beaten American Express to the whole "membership has its privileges" motto because I consider a dollar cocktail to be a much better deal than 22.99% APR. So I had actually forgotten tonight was the super secret Elks initiation ceremony. I'm not sure what is involved but I have grand visions of boxed wine in a fancy communal chalice and exceptionally dim lighting. Until Jeanne told me this...apparently when you enter the room, you have to put your hands up like antlers on your head. (Did anyone else just have a mental image of Clark W. Griswold with a Marty Moose mug?)
I hope they were kidding her. And then she said a goat comes to the ceremony.
I don't even understand.
Wouldn't you think it would be an elk?
Although after Googling "elk", it is clear to me that the antlers probably wouldn't even fit through the front door and so I guess if you are looking for some sort of cousin to the elk in mid-Missouri, a goat seems like a legit choice. And honestly, for a dollar cocktail, I'd be ok with an elk or a goat. Or Marty Moose.
I don't think she is allowed to take pictures and I've probably seriously already violated the whole "what happens in the Elks Fight Club stays in the Elks Fight Club" credo, so I'll leave the rest to our imaginations.
I do plan to encourage her to run for Elk of the Month, though. It comes with your very own special parking spot.