Starty Fritters

In my mind, I like to think I'm funny. I also like to invent nonsense compound words. As I was trying to think about what to write, I invented starty fritters... which, if you hadn't figured it out, is stage fright and party jitters all rolled together... which is exactly what I'm facing at this exact moment.

H. turns 1 (1!!!!) in 2 weeks. Which is really close. Almost too close. And I have yet to finish planning his party, or send out the invitations, or even vaguely think about. I'm a procrastinator, though and through!

Well, the invitations are addressed and ready to be stamped and mailed, my best friend who was gainfully employed at a party store helped with the decorations, and I'm now onto thinking about the actual party.

And I'm not liking it.

I'm not a huge fan of parties, in general... unless it's the kind I just get to show up to. Those are alright... but when I have to plan them myself (organization and prioritizing and all that fun stuff not being on my list of strenths), I get a little nervous... and by a little I mean a boatload. And not one of those dingy rowboats, I'm talking garbage barges full of worry.

So, starty fritters. I'm worried that no one will show up, which is common, I hear... especially when the invitations are due to arrive about 10 days pre-party. And I'm worried that no one will have fun. And that I'll forgot some integral part of the whole H.-apalooza. Or that the birthday boy won't have fun. Or a bunch of other things.

So, starty fritters. Not so fun... but knowing my luck, I'll work myself into a starty fritters induced tizzy, and everything will go off without a hitch. H. and I will have fun with the people that will show up. Everyone will love the food and I will be the Martha Stewart (minus the jail stripes) of parties, and all my worrying will be for naught.

Let's hope for that...