Christmas Creep by Helen Chappell
When you read this, it will be a few days after Christmas. As I write this, I’m preparing for trickor-treaters, and Thanksgiving is yet to come. And yet, back here, before Halloween, the Christmas stuff is already being put out in stores. Holiday awareness has extended the season over several months, much to the annoyance of practically everybody save a handful of happy holiday fanatics who can’t wait for Santa, mistletoe and the glittery bits and pieces that comprise the end-of-year celebrations. Now, I am a firm believer that there is no such thing as too many twinkly lights, shiny ornaments, and other red and green gewgaws with which to celebrate. No one enjoys a house decorated with a million lights, thirty-eight plastic light-up figures and blaring Christmas carols more than me. In fact, one of our holiday traditions is driving around in the dark of December, admiring the many, many over-decorated houses and displays of the seasonal glitz. Any homestead that f lashes, dashes and casts enough light to be seen from outer space is a big part of our traditional Oooooh Aaaaah Tour.
In this driveabout we look for the most glittery, illuminated places we can find. And when we drive past, the whole car goes “Oooooh! Aaaaah!” This is a holiday ritual that dates back to when we were kids. We were disciples of John Waters, and believed that nothing succeeds like excess, especially at Christmas. The more overdone, the better. Of course, Christmas is a season of light in the darkness, and the light is the hope of the return of warm weather and sunshine. Still, carried to the Ultimate, it’s as fabulous as a San Francisco drag review. Everyone should be fabulous at least once a year, and to those people who hang a tasteful wreath on the door and a string of those dull white twinkle lights and call 9