In looking to review the things I have not blogged about, particularly parties from this year, I came across the photos we took last year at Christmas. And in keeping with my theme of Oversharing About My Parties Week, and since it's December, I thought I'd actually share some holiday party stuff from last year. (Because I'm usually crazy-busy in December, I don't always take the time to write all the details of what I have done, and I know some of you may find it interesting.)
So, you know how I'm completely enamored of all kinds of banners and flags and hanging festive things?
Last year I had a brainstorm. Of course, I blame Pinterest. (Which, by the way, you can follow me there if my creative process interests you in any way.)
I found a banner. Made of words. Which brings together two of the things I love most in the world: banners and letters.
I purposed to hang magical banners made of red letters spelling out the lyrics to Christmas carols, which would then hang magically overhead and so elevate the mood and make everyone happy.
But first, of course, I set about trying to uncover the mystery of how such a thing could be achieved.
Enter the Silhouette Portrait. It's a wonderful and beautiful personal die-cutting device. (Who knew there was such a thing?)
No, Silhouette is not sponsoring this post in any way (oh, how I wish they were!)
- I bought the aforementioned Silhouette Portrait 2 weeks before Christmas (much to my family's chagrin) specifically with this project in mind.
- I knew nothing about how to make the miracle letters appear, but my research told me that this was the right tool for the job.
- So I read the instructions, tentatively connected it to my computer and attempted my first letter.
I felt like I had discovered fire.
Trotting excitedly over to Hobby Lobby, I grabbed every sheet of red cardstock I could find. I wasn't really sure how many Red Letter Christmas Carol Lyric Banner Things (what should I call these?) I was going to produce, but I also knew that I was going to "go big or go home."
I was all in.
Making the Banners
And so it began. I recruited my family to help tape the letters to fishing line to create the word banners. I know. Just tape. That sounds so anti-climatic doesn't it? I wouldn't have minded using twine, but the fishing line was nearly invisible, making the Red Hanging Letter Things (too wordy?) that much more magical. Of course, we listened to Christmas music as we worked. That goes without saying.
We taped from the back of the letters to the front, over the fishing line.
If you looked really closely, you could see the tape, but it wasn't like anyone was likely to be scrutinizing the miracle we had just created.
Then we - and when I say, "we," I mean, Eric and the kids - started hanging Red Christmas Carol Lyric/Word Banners (too much?) all over the house, much to my everlasting delight.
We had strung white lights across our living room and hung the Red Letter Banner Things (too subtle?) from them. They were completely lightweight and so that worked well.
I kept trying to take a photo that would do justice to the seriously breathtakingness (is that a word?) of the Red Word/Lyric Thingies (I don't even know anymore). I couldn't ever quite capture it.
But I kept trying. Look how cool and inviting my home looked from outside.
And when I say all over the house, I mean all the way from the front room (as you enter) all throughout the dining room and all the way into the back of our faux room (canvas wrapped around our patio cover) in the back.
I kept wandering back and forth from room to room, repeating out loud like a mental patient, "Isn't it magical?"
(By the way, this process takes no more than one minute, because as you know, our home is freakishly small cottage-like.)
To which I answered myself, "Yes, it truly is magical."
I was completely in love with how everything looked and I decided that having Red Christmas Lyric Banners (?) hanging over our heads made our Noche Buena (Cuban Christmas Eve) that much more beautiful, magical, and oh, so special.
That, and the intoxicating smell of roasted pork wafting through the house put everyone in a kind of Cuban "let's party like rockstars" haze, but that's not important right now.