6-4-02, Side Streets, Kimra Traynor Herb

Creatively speaking, I do okay. I always manage to come up with boffo ideas for a project. Take, for example, this year's Bible School's costume. Each year, at Bible School time, for the last three or four years, I have been delegated to be the church's own mascot. First it was a kangaroo, followed by a crazed tourist, capped off this year by the appearance of Lou Lou the Ladybug. Lou Lou was my own idea. The script called for a mad scientist named Bugbert, but I felt that Lou Lou would bring some more fun to Bible School. After all, as I told our children's director, aren't we all about fun? She agreed and turned me loose on the costume.  Now let me state here and now, for the record, my husband is about the best follow through guy in the world. Where I, on the other hand, come up with these great (in my own mind, at least) ideas, and then have no idea on how to implement them. In the past, I have pretty much turned all implementation of my ideas over to my husband. It was he that created the great kangaroo costume, and he who turned  other of my vague ideas into fabulous finished projects.

This year, I vowed, I was going to see this thing through to the end. It was I who thought of Lou Lou, and it would be I who made the costume.

"What are your plans?" My husband asked me a few weeks ago, as we were walking the dogs.

"Plans?" I was befuddled. "What do you mean, plans?"

"You know," he replied, "To make your ladybug costume for Bible School. How are you going to do it?"

"I don't know." I said, vaguely, "I am sure I will come up with something. I kind of think that I just need to have the materials in front of me and it will come to me."

"How do you know," he asked, patiently, "what materials  you need, if you don't have a plan?"

I could tell I was driving my very organized husband straight up the wall. "I thought I'd just go to the thrift store and see what hit me."

"Hits you?" My husband furrowed his brow.

"I am sure I'll know when I see the right things." I replied.

“I could help you, you know." He said.

"I know you could, you always do a great job." I enthused. "But I am not without my own creative talents, you know."

"No one ever accused you of not being creative." He returned. "But sometimes....." his voice trailed off into the distance. I am sure he was thinking of the thousands of botched, half-thought through ideas I had managed to mess up in our nineteen  years of marriage.

"This year you are off the hook." I firmly stated, closing the door on the subject.

To be honest, though I truly did come at this Lou Lou project full of enthusiasm but low on planning, the ladybug caper came off pretty well. Amazingly well. So well, in fact, that when the folks at bible school started complimenting me on the costume, I couldn't help but brag.

"I made it myself, you know." I said, none too humbly.

"Didn't your husband help you?" One of my friends, who knows my capacity for follow-though asked.

"You'd think so, wouldn't you?" I said. "But nooooooooo.... not this year. This year I was on my own."

The teenager who was my helper at the drama session I taught each day piped up her theory. "I'll bet he was really jealous when he saw what a good job you did."

I thought of my Lou Lou costume, which had been fashioned out of a large red with black polka dot skirt, which, prior to my husband's inspection, had had wings which were decidedly NOT in the middle of my back, but more in the armpit region. I remembered that he had patiently removed the wings and had sewn them on properly while I had been flitting around, trying to complete some other last minute idea.

I decided to come clean. "I guess I did get a LITTLE help." I confessed, but quickly added, "but not much. Next year, however, I am going to make the costume TOTALLY on my own."

  -30-

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