I Love: Part Deux

I love making plans and coming up with ideas and schemes.  God, I love a good brainstorm.  I’m full of a lot of things, but “good ideas” is definitely one of them.  My specialty, as anyone that knows me well will tell, is short-term planning.  I can tell you general things I want to accomplish before I die, and what I’ll do a week from now.  But I have always struggled with the “5-year plan” or whatever they ask you about on job interviews.  I cannot possibly know what the next year will bring, let alone the next five.  Why, just three hours ago, I was still straight.*  Who knows what the future will bring? 

Short-term planning, though- now at this, I rock.  In high school, Story and I would concoct elaborate plans all the time, often about the most trivial of things.  When we wanted to subconsciously infiltrate a crush’s thoughts, we came up with a plan for that.  When I wanted to talk to a cute guy, we had a plan for that.  The best part of our plans were the code names and the maps.  I’m a visual learner, and I also have an awful sense of direction, so maps are the way to go, for me.  And if our plans fell into the wrong hands, well there’s no way we could risk blowing the operation by having a person’s real name written down.  Secrecy was of paramount concern. 

One awesome thing about Story and indeed, to a further extent, my sister Mini-Bottom, is their ability to commit.  When we have a plan we are in agreement upon, we commit to the end.  I shall give you but one example, as I have a sea of options afore me. 

May is a big birthday month; four close friends all celebrate their day of birth within 5 days of one another.  I usually put together a little soiree for them, but this particular year, I wanted to go balls-out.  So, with my sister acting as co-conspirator, we designed a fake cake for her to jump out of and sing “Happy Birthday” Marilyn Monroe style.  And in keeping with our usual “Keep it Sexy” motto, she’d be dressed as a banana in a bikini.  Mini-Bottom pulled through like a champ.  I set up a dinner and orchestrated the migration to my apartment, where before our guests of honor arrived, I helped her into her costume.  She hid in the cake while I positioned the Birthday-ers.  When the time was right, she popped out like only a sexy banana could.**  She sang her heart out, to the delight of all party-goers.  It was a smashing success.  That kind of follow-through is what makes dreams happen. 

Here is a picture I drew to represent the night’s brilliance:

*Ba-zing!  Gotcha, Mom.  Honestly, you have to know by now that I’m joking when I say things like that.  Like that whole “porn” incident when the youth group was over.  Did you really think I’d entertain my church-friend guests with porn…while you and Dad were home?  That just wasn’t our style.  We’d definitely have waited until you were out of town.  So, no, of course we weren’t watching porn.  In much the same vein, I’m still straight.  Besides, if I ever switched sides, as it were, I’d throw myself a huge “Who knew??” party and register for gifts and take up rollerblading.  And you’d be the first one invited.  Because I love you.

**Unbelievably not a euphemism.