Post Post Post Paris Post

Post Post Post Paris Post

The fuss about Paris is finally over. I’ve officially taken down my six foot Paris map. I’ve washed and dried and boxed the last wine glass from last night’s party. With a sense of bittersweet conclusion, I am wrapping up my obsession with all thing Parisian and bidding the creative movement a respectful au revoir.

So how was the Post Paris Party? It was great! I think I scored an A- in ambience (the red light bulbs totally worked!!! Thanks dayment), a B+ in food (actually my mom gets an A+ in food because the Croque Monsieurs were delicious! But I scored a D- in kitchen clean up and that brought the overall food grade down a bit) and maybe a C in guest attendance. I would have gotten a D in guest attendance because about four people turned up MIA, but one of my very most favorite bloggers drove here ALL THE WAY FROM NORTHERN CALIFORNIA!!! Now that’s dedication.

She not only gave me extra credit points in guest attendance but she totally made up for the people who just dropped off the planet after they rsvp’d. (Isn’t that weird when that happens? I hope they are okay.) Normally, I wouldn’t notice but it was a smallish party and I didn’t want Leah to drive all this way and then think I’m socially retarded. But I didn’t have to worry because there were just enough people to fill every chair and at one point, all join into the same conversation at once. That was cool. Plus, Toby was way more comfortable with the crowd issue being under control. He and I differ on the whole “the more the merrier” thing. It was perfect actually.

It was such an honor and a privilege to finally meet Leah! My first impression? She is so tall! Like model! And drop dead gorgeous too. I mean, I knew she was pretty but I never expected a super model to come to my party. I gotta say it: she’s smart AND pretty! I think her ex-fiance needs his head examined. I should probably stop going on and on because I know she’s going to read this and then she’ll feel obligated to write something really complimentary about me. As it is I’m waiting for her blog post as if were an opening night restaurant review. We’ll see if she’s honest and reports on the cat puke.

I think I pulled it off though. It was a bit sketchy in the beginning. How is it that no matter how much you plan and no matter how early you start preparing, guests will always arrive before you’re ready? Nobody was early early or anything but I just didn’t have my sh– together. I really got ambushed with the whole setting up of the projector. Which is totally my fault because I could have been planning out the cord issue and such, so many days ago. The Things (the kids I babysit) came over exactly at the same time I was setting up the very expensive borrowed projector. It was scary. There were cord issues and instability issues and add little feet running and jumping… I nearly had a heart attack.

Earlier, when my trusty Audio/Video friend came over with the projector, he gave me very specific instructions to make sure no one bumped it or the table it was on OR spilled anything anywhere near it. He told me that if I broke it, I would have to replace it because it belonged to a friend of his and apparently it was the best on the market AND it cost two grand. Yikes! No pressure!

The projector was the best though. Without it, the party would have been snoresville. It was really fun to see all 677 of my Paris pictures up there on my wall while my very own sound track played. Maybe I’m being partial, but it was my dream Paris Party come true. Outside of hiring my own squeeze box player from the metro, it was as close as I could possibly come to bringing Paris into my living room. With the red lights and the cool summer breezes coming through our wide open windows, I was temporarily a French girl again.

After I got the projector safely tacked down and cords covered with a durable rug, I was able to focus properly on the Things. They were adorable, the darlings of the party really. Thing One drew me a picture of the Eiffel Tower and greeted me with a hearty “Bonjour Mademoiselle!” that nearly cracked the cute-o-meter in sweetness. She must have been practicing in the car ride over. Thing Two loved his toy Twingo car that I got him and made himself quite comfortable with the girls on the patio. He’s a little flirt. When the Things left, Thing One kissed me on both cheeks, properly Parisian style. I love those Things. I totally forgave them for all the running and jumping and yelling and helping a little more with lighting of the candles than was probably safe for a four and three year old.

The sad thing is: I was so busy being hostess and party girl, talking my head off about Paris, that I didn’t take any pictures! Stupid me! I insisted on using real dishes and not paper and plastic (cause that’s so disgustingly American) so there were several times where I was a bad hostess doing dishes in the kitchen instead of mingling like I should have been. We did bring out the polaroid camera and played around with that, but most of the guests took their snap shots home with them so all I have left to post are the rejects. Thank goodness my mom took a minute away from sweating over the stove in the kitchen and snapped a quick shot of me and Leah. See she really was here! How cool is that?!!!

I took some shots this morning of the left overs.

Until next time Paris!

Post Paris Party

The Post Paris Party

I must be nuts. I’ve been wanting to have a party for about three years now. I’ve suspended all party planning (which I’m very good at by the way) for the last three years (I exaggerate, but it has been a loooooong long time!) because our cats have ruined our carpet. There is not a square inch without a vomit stain. It’s come to the point where I just let the cat puke dry and peel it up later because it’s easier. I know! Dis-gust-ing. I die a thousand deaths any time anyone comes up our stairs to meet with us. When I meet with clients, I schedule my meetings at Starbucks. I am beyond humiliation. Sometimes I even think fondly of those days before I owned such evil varmints.

But… I throw the best parties! There is nothing I find more fun than coming up with a theme, designing the invitations, planning out the music, the costumes, the entertainment, a signature cocktail… it’s all just so much fun! In fact I might actually enjoy planning a party than I do actually being at one.

Toby hates my parties, with a passion. He’d rather get his finger nails removed than host a party. The people, the noise, the loud talking, the man-handling of his precious antique cameras, the time he must spend away from his computer pretending to be sociable… it’s all just a nightmare for him. He even worries about our cats who must be shut up in some back bedroom far far away from any one who might have allergies.

So what I’m building up to is a dilemma.

Toby has permitted me to have a post Paris party. This is huge! This is almost as great as my Paris trip itself! I’ve been dreaming up ideas for it for months now. French music, fromage, vino, everyone can wear berets and we can take polaroids, I can show my pictures on a slideshow on the wall (ongoing during the party, no forcing anyone to sit while I narrate, or anything horrible like that!)… It could be so fun!

But there is one hitch. The carpet. “What are you gonna do?” asks Toby with a smirk, “throw sawdust on the floor?” Nope. I’m going to host a party by candle light. That could be French couldn’t it? Nobody will notice zee floors in zhee romantic light of zhee candles while we are drinking zhee wine? Right? Obviously, I’ll have to learn how to type with a French accent but I’ll figure that out in 8 days when I’m in Paris.

For now, I have to get the word out. The only weekend I have free to have this grand Post Paris Party is May 14th. It’s very very close to when I get back. Like less than a week. Like I must be nuts to think I can pull something like this off. Toby thinks it’s great because he thinks the less time I have to plan it, the less crazy it will be. He’s also thinking maybe nobody will show up. Well, he’s thinking wrong because most of the people I’d like to invite, read this blog! Who else could stand another word about Paris from me? I’ve been talking about it ad nauseam since January when I first dreamed up the idea.

So if you’re not a crazy foot fetish stocker, and you live near enough to know where I live and how to get here, consider yourself invited! Yes you! Or at least consider this an official “Save the Date” (cause you know I’m cooking up a real invite). If you don’t know how to get here and you’d like to be invited, email me and I’ll hook you up. Come on, the cat puke’s not that bad. It could be fun!