It is time to be frank. We are members of a not-so-secret society that meets irregularly and worships false and broken kitsch figurines of a brown clad monk.
We are "The Franks".
Upon baptism into the fraternity, an individual receives a frankly ridiculous name, ours being Frankamente (me) and Frankoffski (Tom). A gathering of three of more members constitutes an official Frank meeting, which must be recounted in detail to the president and other Franks upon the next major gathering. Any sighting of Frank related paraphernalia or signage is to be sought out and recorded for posterity, which includes the forms Francesco and Francesca, which can make for busy times in the streets of Italia.
We hosted the recent Frank event - a high tea on our deck - where men wore collars and ladies dolled up in frocks and pearls. Little fingers were raised to a swell year, highlights were shared, dreams were visioned, and dainty fat cake was consumed. Frankly my dear, a smashing afternoon.