A few weeks ago as my hairdresser was preparing to cover the ravages of time on my roots, he noted, “You have glitter in your hair.”
“Yes, it is that time of the year,” I told him.
Glitter season officially arrives when I drag down the tubs of Christmas decorations from the attic and begin the great tinsel shower that eventually becomes a tasteful and lovely holiday decor from the living room to the privy. Just as you have to kiss a lot of frogs to find your prince, you have to cycle through a lot of gaudy glitter to find just the right touch that turns your holiday into a lighted vision. But, I have always believed that with enough glitz, glitter, and a smidgen of frou-frou, you could make anything festive.
This year, though, there does not seem to be enough glitter to hide the glare of reality. The coronavirus is running rampant throughout the country. The world is turned upside down, and there is no amount of festooning that will disguise the catastrophe that has become known simply as 2020.
In fact, someone ruined the whole idea of glitter for me recently when I read that the coronavirus is like going to a crafting party with 10 people — nine who are not doing a glitter craft, and one who is. Guess what? By the time it is over, everybody’s craft is a glitter craft. So, of course, there is glitter in my hair.
It is going to be hard for all of us not to let our inner Grinch loose this holiday. For starters, we are spending it with the same people within the same closing walls that we spent spring, Easter, summer, the Fourth of July, fall, Halloween and now Thanksgiving and Christmas. We need to see some new people.
As for gift giving, who has got time? It is taking all my energy just to devise creative ways to be able to see my family. Even cash is out because it is so nasty. Can anyone say gift cards?
I used to love to pursue my way through the aisles of the various stores, looking for the precise gift for everyone on my list. I would stop and treat myself to coffee and doughnuts and then head back for more fun-filled browsing. The crowds were exhilarating. Now, I am as frantic as those harried shoppers on Christmas Eve used to be, but not because of the usual holiday stresses. No, this year, I am dodging maskless masses waiting to virus-bomb me with a type of glitter I cannot see until days later after I have taken it home and gotten my family sick. I told you. Grinch may win this year.
Still, I am fighting the fight. The pungent odor of hand-sanitizer and bleach may greet me when I return home from work instead of the sweet cinnamon smell of Christmas that is usual this time of year, but I will not be defeated. Ribbons and garland, Santas and snowmen, lights and greenery, reindeer ears and stockings will still fill every surface — just like normal, even if it isn’t.
I just hope I don’t spread the “glitter.”