Yesterday we went down to the town of Mt. Magnet for Gary & Cam's Masons lodge meeting - Gary was being Exalted To Third Degree Of The AnteDiluvian Temple Master or something. It is in fact where the expression about giving someone "the third degree" comes from - all these wacko question & answer routines which I am not supposed to know but anyone can google. I think they dress up in funny aprons and stand around in a circle reciting things, sort of like a combined Hungarian Sock Dance with Latvian Clog-Tossing and a bit of Satanic Goat Poking thrown in. Then they peel off their alien reptile human disguises, brief each other on the latest world domination efforts, then plan a few community or charity contributions and have a beer.
We all met up at Carl & Michelle's place where the blokes got themselves dressed up in their white shirts, ties and formal pants; Monica & I were in fits at all the to-do with bow ties, medals, pins, rings and other paraphernalia that they love dressing up in. It's VERY SERIOUS you know. I think all the army, navy and club business is just an excuse to dress up in different outfits; they're obsessed with epaulettes and stuff, and carry all their bits & pieces in attache cases. If one of them turns up with a new pin or badge the others go berserk with envy. Michelle had them lined up in the kitchen getting shirts ironed while Monica & I checked bow ties and did fluff removal.
The blokes marched off to their meeting in their penguin suits while us "ladies" frocked up and went to dinner at the Mount Magnet Grand Hotel, which is your classic old outback pub. Michelle and I got a bit of a pool comp going; in our schmancy dresses we soon had an audience of keen-eyed workin' blokes. One of the local fellows, Anthony, came up to me as I was lining up a shot and said, "I'm sorry but I can't stand it any longer, that's not how you line up a shot! Please let me help you!" Within fifteen minutes I had him and a former Tasmanian State Pool Champion coaching me along and we soon had a group match going. The fellows were disappointed when they discovered that us bevy of ladies were all waiting for our "penguins" to join us from the lodge meeting, but we all had fun anyway.
The penguins turned up for last rounds with much noise & hilarity; there were too many of us to fit in the cars, so Carl hopped into the boot and on the way home we came across their friend Brownie, who we also stuffed into the boot with Carl, then drove an unnecessarily long way around lots of corners laughing at their muffled protests. It was like being in high school again, very silly.
Gary and I then got up at five am to drive home in time for his Royal Order Of The Divine Buffalos meeting. We got held up by huge haul-pack (dump truck parts) road trains and also had to slow down to avoid all the wedgetailed eagles feasting on the night's road kill, so there was a mad rush at my place as Gary got changed into his Buffalo formal wear; then two minutes later we got asked to help take the fire trucks round to the morning market fair at the footy oval, which meant he had to get changed into his fire & rescue formal wear and I fished out a uniform from the back room, ran home to get socks, then raced back to get the trucks. After all this ridiculous costume changing we were a bit knackered and crawled under the trucks to snooze in the shade as the tantalising smell of the sausage sizzle drifted by & Greg's two year old tried to force feed us lollies that he'd sucked on and didn't like.
The market was a bit of a fizzle, so we packed up around ten thirty with much moaning of relief from the hung-over volunteer crew, and now it's time to get some sleep before the next costume change.
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