Welcome to 2019, Oddgodfrey Crew! I hope you enjoyed warm cheer, delicious food, and all the festivities of the holiday season. We enjoyed fun celebrations, too, and look forward to writing all about it in the next few posts. Sorry for the long gap in communication. Sequentially, this story about christening our friends’ new dinghy under the favor of the Flying Spaghetti Monster fell exactly the same week as Christmas. It seemed a bit…off tone. No one is reading Oddgodfrey over the last two weeks anyway; everyone’s too busy having fun. So, without further ado, we can pick up where we left off, playing on the beach in Tanjung Roo, Langkawi, Malaysia.
………….…
I eventually unburied myself from the pile of sand and uprooted Andrew from the beach bar to sail on to the next anchorage. We’d heard there is a nice waterfall, so we wanted to check it out. The Donetes Crew planned to follow along, but upon texting to confirm their whereabouts we learn they had to abandon their plan, take a taxi to the nearest city, and purchase a new dinghy. Their old deflatable had given up the ghost and deflated. Then at sun down, the weather shifted and our anchorage became an uncomfortable lee shore (wind and waves pushing Sonrisa toward land instead of away). So, we had to decide where to move - forward to a new and hopefully more protected anchorage or turn back to beautiful Tanjung Roo? We took the more conservative route, retraced the track we knew to be safe in the dark, and laid down anchor in the exact spot we left from earlier that morning.
Andrew received a new text that he reads aloud to me: “Linda requests that a Priestess of the Church of the Flying Spaghetti Monster give our new dinghy her christening.”
Oh, hell yes! I knew this ordination would come in handy one day.
I received my ordination as Priestess circa 2015 when one of my friends requested that I officiate her wedding. Unfortunately, when her groom realized the mischief we were up to and that the words “Church of the Flying Spaghetti Monster” were to appear on his wedding license and certificate, he requested that I also be ordained as a Minister of the Universal Life Church. I suppose I can see where he is coming from, but Andrew remains most proud of my calling to the Church of the One True Tangle. And, this makes sense. You see, according to the Loose Cannon, The Doctrine of the Most Sauced One: The Flying Spaghetti Monster created All That Is, including Pirates who also happen to be His Chosen Ones. It just seems wise, then, as someone who hopes to someday ply all seven seas, that Andrew and I should devote ourselves as Pastafarians. We all know there are no atheists at sea.
And so it came to pass that I had been called upon to christen Steve and Linda’s new dinghy, a serious responsibility I did not take lightly. I immediately began to research. There must be a christening proscribed by the Council of the Olive Garden, right? I thumbed through the Loose Cannon, searched the Old and New Pastament, and in each case, I came up short. There is no pre-prepared christening ceremony to preserve and protect my pirate friends and their vessels! I had to write it myself. Nose pressed to my notepad, I scribbled with the fire of one so slain by the spirit. I consult the Cannon to determine the invocation of protections and the proper sacrifice required to keep both His Noodliness and King Neptune appeased. I work in as many “Ahhhhrrrrrrrrssss! and Ahoys!” as I can.
Andrew shakes his head as I read and re-read the ceremony over our fish lunch. “You always have to take things one step further. I think they’d be happy if you just tossed rum on the hull and said May You Have Fair Winds and Following Seas.”
Aghast, I reply, “We must spread the Word, the Word which is AAAHHHHHHHRRRRRRR!!!” Then, I look at my watch. “We have to go!” I hustle him to the counter to pay the tab.
We stop by S/V Donetes to gently remind her crew to “remember, you asked for this;” then, we return to Sonrisa where I command by my powers as Priestess that Andrew cook spaghetti and squid stew while I don the ceremonial robes. Two opportunities to dress as a pirate in less than two weeks! “Lucky me!” I think, as I strap on my pirate shiv.
We gather beer, rum, champagne, spaghetti, squid, bowls, forks, shot glasses, grog mugs, and the ceremony. Across the anchorage, the Donetes Crew has already led their yet unnamed dinghy over to the bamboo thatched floating hut and tied up. I take my position at Grin’s bow, one foot atop the front bench like a good pirate would do. “Gosh,” I think to myself, “Ayyyyyeeee need to find one of those extending monoscopes.” Captain Andrew, Grin, and Kitty navigate carefully so as to not topple the Priestess into the sea. (It would smear my ceremonial eyeliner.) “In the name of the noodles, the meatballs, and the opportunity to be sauced!” I declare as we approach the ceremonial alter.
At this point, I am embraced by His noodley appendage(s) and deliver an ever so inspired sermon reminding us all to be the best Pirates we can be and to take heart when His Noodliness insists, for His Own Holy Amusement, on keeping stuck fast the last of four bolts we are trying to loosen.
Andrew prepares the sacrifices while I give a reading from the Loose Cannon, Piraticus, Chapters 1 and 2, in which the Flying Spaghetti Monster instructs good Pirates in the style of sacrifice that most pleases Him.
Then, the Christening. I toss a slosh of Ceremonial Rum (always Sailor Jerry) into the dink’s honored bow and into the sea for Neptune for each blessing I offer Donetes Minor:
“May your grog ever be cool and drinkable.
*Splash*
May your parrot shiteth upon arm-chair sailors and killjoys alike.
*Splash*
May the sand stay out of your pants.
*Splash*
May your noodle never go soft.
*Splash*”
Drink up me hearties, YO-HO!
We drink our sacrificial boilermakers (a mug of beer with a shot of rum dropped into the center), each discovering this most holy offering more delicious than we anticipated it would be. Then, we pour for Neptune and refill our mugs with Champagne, to celebrate.
Grin! She’s too young for you!
