After the Fact: Glitterati


“Mom,” my son complained, “it looked like a bunch of fairies had a Rave in my kitchen last night!” (A Rave is one of those “impromptu” dance parties where invitations are sent via text message.) John is somewhat obsessive about having a spotless house. How my daughter-in-law, Joy, ever puts up with him is beyond my understanding. I suspect, like my granddaughter, Jordyn-The-Gypsy, she smiles a lot, and ignores him whenever possible. I so wish I could be around after I’ve passed, just to see my son’s face when he comes through my front door! It’s been a while since his last visit and things have changed. And multiplied.

As events transpired, the gym Jordyn attends held a meet known as the “Hip Hop Classic” the day before. John and Joy are parents that will volunteer to help, no matter the activity. John always helps with the set-up and “tear-down”, moving mats and equipment so had been in the gym on Friday, and both were there again early Saturday. Joy left a little earlier after the meet because Jordyn was having a friend stay overnight, but John didn’t get home until 10 p.m. Joy doesn’t do much. She’s only responsible for being sure all the medals and trophies are there and in their right places, organizes the bake sale fundraiser, helps with admission and seating, and made 100 yogurt parfaits.  Oh, and she braids Jordyn’s hair, a complicated and somewhat time-consuming project in itself. 

But back to the “Rave.” The “Hip Hop” is a fun meet with great music and lots of balloons filled with glitter and the overall effect of a 3-ring circus. Of course, balloons came home. But the excess glitter was put into a baggie and left, forgotten, on the kitchen table. Unfortunately, the “zip-lock” didn’t get zipped. Or locked. There weren’t fairies, but there is a cat who was altogether enthralled with the sparkling. In the morning, as if there was not already enough glitter liberally sprinkled about the kitchen floor, John yelled at the cat, who streaked out of the kitchen, through the living room and up the stairs, glitter flying in all directions.

Rubbing salt into the wound, Chris sent her brother a message, “Enjoy a sparkling great day!” Having abundant experience, she says he’ll see the last of this glitter about the time Jordyn graduates from high school. She’s 10.

Do you remember tinsel on Christmas trees? The first time I was allowed to help put tinsel on the tree, it was made of lead and the strands had to be gently smoothed out and they were put on the branches one-at-a-time. A later version was something like Saran Wrap and it captured static electricity from mid-air (or so it seemed) so you couldn’t walk past the tree without gathering tinsel to your clothes. The last tinsel I ever bought was civilized, easy to apply but still traveled everywhere: the last strand would show up when the kids were hunting Easter eggs. Which is only appropriate since the last Easter egg would appear when the Christmas tree went up. Glitter is in that sort of category.

It’s an absolutely inane statement, but true, of course. “Whatever you’re looking for will show up in the last place you look.”

Back when Chris was a gymnast at the Denver School of Gymnastics, meets didn’t have catchy names or themes. They were just known by the town, or in cases where there was more than one program, by the gym name and town. The next one being hosted by Jordyn’s J Star Gym (North Adams, MA) is the “April Fool.” I can hardly wait to hear about that one!

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