Glitter. No, seriously, there's glitter on my chest and I don't know where it came from. It's under my fingernails, in my hair and there's a single speck of it on my cheek.
You can't wash it off, you can't pick it off, and you can't avoid it.
Me: Oh, look a delightful card from my [insert relative].
Card: Open me. Do it, do it now.
Me: *tear open the envelope in a way that abby says is "weird"*
Card: Muahahah! I have you now!
Me: huh. it's spine-up, and if I want that precious gift card guilt free, I have to handle the card, open and read it, and then act like the gift card is a secondary bonus to the love and affection scrawled on the card's inner folds.
Card: You will notice that my face is made of one gigantic snowflake, made of blue and white glitter.
Me: *Gasp*
I'm as guilty of giving glitter as anyone. It makes a card look classy and unique, like the pearlescent ice crystal it pictures. The problem is that once glitter passes through your door, it's harder to get rid of than some sort of lice-bedbug hybrid. It's easier to burn the carpet and bathe in turpentine.
The worst part is that it never occurs to me that I'm accepting that nice wooden horse until hours later when I find a few shiny things in a bowl of malt-o-meal.
Hearts, Stars, and Horseshoes; Clovers and Oh-my-god-another-damn-sparkle!
Sadly, at some point someone told the entire holiday based industry that 'tis the season to bedazzle. So everything is a logjam of twinkle and cheer, used interchangably. Ornaments, cards, Puff Paints, cookies, baby powder, wrapping paper, toilet paper, kitsch; if it's holiday themed, it will leave an unremovable legacy.
I think I like that I'm going to be reminded of the holidays in a few months when I find glitter at the bottom of an infrequently used glass.
Julian had a speck of glitter on his face on Christmas. Still don't know how it got there (we only got 1 card and it had no glitter!)
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