Oh, Christmas Tree! {not "finto"}

We decorated our tree Sunday.



We have quite an ornament collection, most of them handmade. We have also begun to collect ornaments instead of souvenirs when we travel.

Sometimes it's an obvious choice, like this egg from Prague.



At other times though, it's not quite so obvious, like this Effel Tower from Paris. I made the figurine into an ornament.



From Bolzano -- home of the Ice Man, Otzi:



From London -- a children's toy:



Here she is in her grandeur:



Note: This was added later.

And then it happened. It's not Christmas without a tree incident. About 10 minutes after I wrote this Sunday, the tree came tumbling down. Mr. Duncan was sound asleep on the couch, I was upstairs, and Maddy was watching an Eloise christmas show. I heard the thump, heard him jump, heard Maddy yell, ran to the stairs -- Maddy was under the tree. The dang thing is just too big for the stand, or so that is my assumption.

It was not pretty. Within 15 minutes after that Mr. Duncan was flat out on the floor, having fallen off of the step ladder -- not a pretty sight.
From behind the tree, I questioned: "Honey. Are you alright?"
He replied, "I just don't know."
"Well, could you let me know if I need to drop the tree on top of you in order to come and save you? Or at least to call the ambulance?" {It was not a pretty sight.}
Meanwhile, Maddy made her way to the potty, and was calling out: "I'm finished Mommma. I made caca (poopy), I need you!"
"Maddy, we are just a little busy. You'll have to do it yourself."
Though I've told her that a million times before, this time I think she understood the gravity of the situation, and for the first time, little Miss Maddy cleaned her own butt.

My hands and forearms are scratched beyond belief.
We tied it up again like we did a few years ago; this time attaching it to the curtain rod, which is secured pretty well with a Fisher. Not sure if it will hold.
Meanwhile, Maddy has been forbidden to go near it. I'm holding off on the water as it makes a great mess when the tree falls -- so it is dying fast.
Mr. Duncan has partially recovered from his fall and has his swollen foot propped up on a couple of pillows. I suppose the aches will come Monday.

He's ready for a fake tree -- which leads me to my Italian vocabulary word of the day: "finto." Our neighbor visited before the great fall and was quite impressed with the fact that our grand tree was not "finto."

{Still not ready for "finto" yet.}