I love it when a plan works out. You know, you have an idea, you start thinking and obsessing. Then you start figuring out how to make it work; you do some research, you cogitate, you ponder, you dream. Then you actually start making a plan, adding some structure or bones to that dream or idea. You start working out details, you run it up the flagpole, then you start getting your ducks in a row. Then bit by bit by bit, your ideas and lists and thoughts turn into a plan . . . and then you work on it and slowly, your plan comes together. The pieces fall into place and you look back and think "damn, it all came together and I made it happen." That's when a plan works out.
Or, you could do it the way we created our brewery. Do all that other stuff, make a plan, get halted in your tracks, waste time and money, get nowhere, then start up again just to run into a road block just as frustrating and long and hard and miserable as the last one. Then waste some more time and money. Then, when you are just about to give up all hope and your bank statement has those little comical moths flying out when you open it . . . that's when it happens sometimes.
Today I started my day with an e-mail from the Tax and Trade Bureau saying that our application to operate a brewery had been approved. I submitted it to the State of Washington and a perfectly pleasant WSLCB employee notified me an hour later that our application had been sent for final processing and we would have our permit sometime next week.
We are at the launch pad. The tower is pulling away. We are undertaking a countdown (sure, it's a week long, but still, a countdown) and we are about to blast off. Or, maybe we will make beer instead, 'cause that's what it's all about. I love it when it all comes together, even if the plan was wadded up, walked on, thrown away and burned but somehow, like the phoenix, it rises from the ashes.