Tag Archives: birthday party

Crepe Paper

funny wisdom on words that begin with a C

Crepe paper: thin, densely wrinkled paper used for decoration

Imagine my shock.

All through my growing up years (which apparently are still continuing) I thought that crepe paper was cool.

Matter of fact, in my small-town-ism, it was the symbol of a party—the true essence of decorations, and proof that something special was about to happen.

It was never bought for common meals or everyday opportunities.

Crepe paper was festive

It could be strewn about a room, and in no time at all, depending on the color scheme, you had a thematic flow in your pavilion.

I loved crepe paper.

Don’t get me wrong—I was still a guy. I didn’t hang it around my bedroom. But I remember that if I walked into a hall and crepe paper was hanging everywhere, or for instance, on July 4th, when the windows of the town stores would be decorated with red, white and blue crepe paper, I got get a chill down my spine. Patriotic goose bumps.

So imagine my shock when I got much older and we were planning a very special party. A committee was meeting to discuss decorations, and I mentioned the purchase of crepe paper. Two of the members immediately scoffed, one saying, “We can certainly do better than that,” and the other retorting, “What do you think this is? A kid’s birthday party?”

I was simultaneously baffled, heartbroken, offended, and at a loss for words.

I quickly glanced around the room for a supporter or two, and although I suspected there were a couple of silent crepe paper lovers, no one piped up to its defense.

So plans were made minus the use of foolish, meaningless and childish crepe paper.

Matter of fact, later on in the evening, there were a couple of times when I was sure people were having a laugh behind my back at my backwoods suggestion.

Yet when it came time for the actual extravaganza, and all the flower arrangements were placed and the cloth bunting was put around the room, everyone was dissatisfied.

“It doesn’t look like anything’s going on,” said one fellow.

A half an hour later, they walked in, carrying big bags filled with crepe paper of every color. We all took one roll, went to our own selected space and decorated it.

It was amazing how nice the crepe paper made the other decorations look.

 

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Balloons

Balloon: (n) a brightly colored rubber sac inflated with air and then sealed at the neck, used as a children’s toy or a decoration.Dictionary B

Merrilee was one of our high school cheerleaders.

If you’ve forgotten, holding that position is similar to being a goddess. So an invitation from Merrilee to come to her home and participate in any activity whatsoever was a shortcut to social Nirvana.

Merrilee was having a birthday party for her friend, Judy. She contacted me to come over and help her blow up balloons. It crossed my mind to tell Merrilee that I had never blown up a balloon before, but fortunately I caught myself before committing high school cultural suicide.

So I went out, bought a small package of balloons from the local five-and-dime, sat in my room and practiced. I actually reached a point where I was able to get to the first stage of balloon-blowing-up–what one might call “the initial plumping.” Reaching that plateau, it gets a little easier.

But you see, here’s the problem: I practiced too much.

It was a hot day and by the time I got to Merrilee’s house, I was already light-headed from balloon inflation.

She smiled at me and said, “I know you’re going to be the best at blowing these up.”

My chest puffed out so much that I was sure she saw it, so I grabbed balloons and started blowing.

I wasn’t even ten minutes into the process when I became so dizzy that I thought I was going to pass out. I broke out in a cold sweat. I knew this for a fact–whatever happened, I needed to make sure that I remained conscious.

Apparently, I was beginning to turn “shades of ill” because Merrilee asked me, “Are you alright?”

I wasn’t, but reassured her that all was well. I started gulping big, deep breaths, which seemed to help my lightheadedness.

I thought I was about to escape the moment, when suddenly, uncontrollably, I threw up.

It was an unplanned vomiting, which I certainly would have stifled if I could. Fortunately we were outside and I ended up merely decorating the grass.

A pall fell over the gathering. At length, Merrilee said, “O-o-o-0-h.”

That was it.

Everyone jumped away, and it was agreed by a consensus of the conclave that I needed to go home.

I did.

It took a solid month for people to stop kidding me about the balloon escapade, and truthfully, to this day … I don’t know if it totally has been scoured from their minds.

 

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