Oh yes it's ladies night, oh what a night (oh what a night)

My dad's a Freemason. I'm not sure about what this actually means, except he goes to these meetings with other masons and they call each other worshipful brothers and stuff. It's like a secret society as far as I can gather, and at the moment my dad's pretty high up and in charge of something, so him and my mum (his laydee) get to throw a party this Saturday. Although the term 'ladies night' sounds a bit pimp, that's what it's called - it's just a black tie do at a hotel and the lodge members get to bring their wives and guests. There's 101 Dalmatians guests, dinner, dancing (woo), funny handshakes and a toast master. Ha. I love that: toast master. Master of the toast, word to yo mother. Or worshipful father. Hahaha. Anyway.

One of the main things you have to do if you're a mason is to believe in a 'supreme being'. But over the last few days in the run up to this Laydeez Night, I am convinced that when my dad took this oath, the Supreme Being on his mind was, in fact, my mother.

When I dropped him off at the shopping centre to meet her yesterday, there were a few small but important things he needed to get. Contact lens solution. Gift tags. Little stickers for the gift bags. He also had to get a present for my mum because it's their ladies night. Something nice to give her at the dinner.

When they returned 3 hours later, my dad was pale and wan. In his hands he clutched a jewellery shop bag and mum followed, beaming, while he appeared to have what I can only describe as Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. When I asked if he was ok, his eyes widened and rolled a bit in his head.

"Did you get my contact lens solution?" I asked later on, once he'd calmed down and had a glass of wine in his hand.
"Oh no, sorry, I forgot."
"What about the gift tags?"
"Oh. No, I didn't get them either"

Today, he comes home from work and is milling about the kitchen.
"Oh damn, I forgot the stickers yesterday"
"Dad, what exactly did you buy? You went to the shops for 3 hours, you had a few small things to get, and you come back with nothing except a shell shocked expression. What the hell was in that jewellery bag?"
"Earrings."
"So? What sort of earrings? How much we talking here?"
"Diamonds."
And with that, he shuffled into the garden to mow the lawn for the 3rd time this week.

There are a lot of reasons why I admire my mother. But the ability to make a man spend so much money on a pair of earrings; so much that he manages to forget absolutely everything else he needs to remember and has to walk around in a bumbling daze for two days, is a trait I really hope I inherit.

Enjoy your weekend all.