The guest list was made. Facebook messages (the only place we could communicate with a large number of people without my mom knowing) were sent, and plans were put into action.
I stalked a number of guests during various church services in order to get contact information from them. Stake-outs in front of doors, hidden in plain sight, were common. Two failed attempts did not deter me, and finally, a week and a half before the party, I tracked down one of three elusive guests.
Karen, Sydney, and I planned the menu. We’d need at least two large pots of soup, and there were various diets and dietary needs to consider. Due to the nature of the soups, I had to tell our mother I wanted to make them.
Thankfully, she was simply happy I was offering to make supper one night, and cheerfully added a few ingredients to the list.
And what about my other parental authority, you may be asking. What did my dad think of all this?
Well, I kinda forgot to ask him.
I know, I know, it’s bad, but since he wasn’t going to be here, the thought didn’t occur to me!
One night, as I was stationed across from a ladies’ Bible Study classroom, waiting for my prey to emerge, he “caught” me.
The conversation went something like this:
Dad: Um, what are you doing over here?
Me: Just waiting for someone.
Me: I’ve got to invite Miss So-and-So to the party!
Dad: What party?
Yeah. Bad move. But thankfully, my dad’s awesome, as you all already know, so he was fine with it. Philip was too, but his was more of an “I won’t be there so it doesn’t really matter to me…” agreement.
Oh well! I was undaunted. I was confident in my ability to pull this off. Nothing could go wrong! I was on top of the world!