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!