Showing posts with label party paraphernalia. Show all posts
Showing posts with label party paraphernalia. Show all posts

Wednesday, November 28, 2012

Before there was Evite


I do love me an adorable vintage greeting card, thank you card and party invitation. I realize that, like most things I admire, they've grown increasingly obsolete. But in the case of Evite et al., I don't think technology has really improved matters. Half that shit gets filed in the junk folder, or you're bombarded by follow-ups and reminders. It's kind of annoying. Though I do get the appeal—no one RSVPs for children's parties around here—so maybe several hundred follow-up emails does improve the response rate.

Whenever I'm at an estate sale I make a beeline for the home office in hopes to find some cards, and the best thrift stores usually have a stationery section. I've amassed a fair amount of old-school invitations—too bad I hardly ever throw any parties!

In less than two weeks my younger daughter will be celebrating her sixth birthday with a roller-skating shindig. The rink provides invitations, which I haven't seen but I'm guessing they're not too exciting. I could dip into my stash of vintage invites, but it hurts me to think of 23 vintage cards sent home via backpack mail ending up, unopened, in 23 trashcans. At least I assume they'll be unopened—how else to account for the inevitable lack of RSVPs?



Saturday, May 26, 2012

The birthday party fun never stops!


Well, it turns out I didn't need to bust out any of my spiral pads of party fun last night or this morning. Nine-year-olds, it seems, are more into busting moves to Katy Perry in the pool and dumping the contents of my pantry into a single large bowl and eating (some of) it than they are with playing the "Merry Maze Game" or "Animal Round-up." Ah, kids—how quickly they grow.






Wednesday, May 23, 2012

Ample material for fun and frolic


Someone at my house is turning 9 this weekend and is hosting her first-ever slumber party. Actually, they call them sleepovers now but I'm going to persist with my hoary old term, cuz that's what they were called when I started attending them—the seances! the ghost stories! the fingertips in warm water prank that never worked!—in 5th grade. Yes, everything happens sooner now and we can't just blame it on the hormones in milk, can we?

I doubt this will be an occasion when I'll be called upon to bust out my vintage birthday party-planning materials, but just in case interest in the swimming pool, the wii, the DVDs, the various glowsticks and the copious amounts of junk food I sanctioned for THIS ONE NIGHT ONLY should flag, I'm sure everyone will enjoy a few rounds of Kids' Keen Time Games.




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