I keep running into Boy's large extended family around town - his various cousins, brothers and sisters. There's Panda and Bob, also Scotty's dog, and a few others who I only know from seeing them wandering around. They all have Boy's same golden laughing eyes, so it's sad because I miss him so much, but at the same time it's nice, because they all love cuddling and snorfling with that silly grin, so it's like having a little moment with Boy again. I still expect him to come heffalumping to the gate when I get home...
Anyway, we went down to Mount Magnet for the Satanic Lodge meeting, some sort of "Raising" or Transmutation Ceremony or something. We stay at Carl and Michelle's place; the blokes head off to do their Secret Embellishment Of The Grand Goat or whatever it is they do in their regalia, while us "ladies" get the buffet food ready. It was very interesting, and not what I expected. Kath, Wendy and I were all new to this, so Gemma said "Just do what I do" and we followed her lead. I stepped out of the kitchen to check on the buffet salads and accidentally saw some of the guys coming out of the Transmogrification Room Of The Twenty Nine Triangles in their satanic secret masonic "aprons" (the regalia they wear is BIZARRE and requires a whole other blog, or you can google it if you're not busy scraping tinea off your toes or otherwise occupied with more important matters).
I wasn't sure if seeing them in their regalia was some kind of smiting offence and quickly hid in the pantry, wondering if I would be summoned to the Inner Royal Templaric Chamber to be eaten by the Worshipful Grand Alien Reptile. Fortunately however everyone was back in their human mutation and only interested in whether or not the bread rolls were done.
So, basically, the Masons as we know it out here is a kind of men's community club with a motto of "harmony and philanthropy" (translated into alien reptile as "feasting on the pork-like flesh of humankind"). They have all sorts of arcane, strange customs so it's a bit like visiting an exotic tribe. When there's a "raising" (someone being promoted to Superb Uber-Reptile for example), they have a dinner to which their partners are invited. The women make and bring the food, but the men do the clean-up and bring us drinks.
There were about 25 of us; we all stand up and say grace, then sit next to our partners around the communal table. Three of the blokes have gavels and bang them to introduce a toast; one of the Worshipful Grand Poobahs then announces the toast, which can be anything from welcoming guests to acknowledging someone's achievement or contribution. Then another Grand Poobah says "Ladies and non-brethren, please be seated" and the Masons do this odd little clapping ritual to conclude the toast.
This happens quite a few times between courses and Gemma made lots of secret signals to the rest of us "ladies" to let us know when to stand up and sit down, so it was kind of like a wacky Amish "Simon Says". Contrary to my expectations, it was not solemnly formal and there were lots of hiccups where someone got something wrong and everyone had a laugh or one of the women would heckle the guys.
Wendy, who is the school's assistant principal, looked a bit bemused by the whole thing and we kept exchanging "STEPFORD WIVES!!!!" looks across the room at each other. Doris, who's sort of the logistics manager at the Meeka hospital, sat next to me; she is very wicked and we had a few snorting episodes behind our serviettes.
The elements of formality were actually rather enjoyable, and to my surprise the blokes made many references and toasts to us, their partners, as being important and appreciated as part of the Lodge. After dinner, they asked us to all sit down in a group while they stood before us in their formal dinner suits and bow ties and made a very chivalrous, heartfelt speech & a toast to thank us for the food, our patience and support, which I thought was very nice. Then we sat outside, where I had to take over from Magoo, the Mount Magnet fire brigade captain, to light the fire in the outdoor stove ("Bloody hell, I'm trained to put them out, not light them darl!" "Yeah, yeah, get out of the way and let the Canadian show ya how it's done")
Gary, as usual, looked very handsome and dashing in his dinner suit, even though the cuffs were held together by paperclips that Michelle and I had cobbled together at the last minute. He gets all extra gentlemanly and solicitous when he's in a suit; I love it. In true outback style, the blokes all have telltale signs that they've dragged their suits out of closets jammed with work gear or the backs of trucks - a bow tie's a bit crumpled, there's a bit of diesel on a shirt or red dust on their pants, fingernails are ingrained with the oil and dirt of many years' manual labour, but they look great and take pride in playing Gentlemen for an evening, all of them coming up to us "ladies" and thanking us, bringing us chairs and all that sort of thing.
Like Cinderella and the midnight pumpkin though, outback life reverted to normal when late that night, snuggled up in bed, Gary made advances on me wearing black socks and an old Valiant t-shirt.
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