Tree-riffic

Every year we put up a Christmas tree, and every year Jason complains that even the plastic ones make him break out when he handles them, and every year I complain that Jason has a tendency to try to arrange the ornaments in humorous tableaus, such as Boba Fett trying to blast the baby Jesus out of the manger.

Every year there are ornaments that he doesn't want to put on the tree because they look too junky and homemade, but he won't throw them out because somebody made them for him when he was a kid, or he made them, or he's not sure who made them but somebody obviously put a lot of effort into gluing six beads onto a piece of felt, so we'd better keep it in case they come looking for it one day.

Personally, I'm proud of what another blogger calls the "funky junky" ornaments. I mean, if I'm not going to let my freak flag fly proudly, why even bother to keep the four-pound disco-ball-apple ornament?

And what says "child of the '80s" better than homemade satin-thread-covered styrofoam ball ornaments covered in beads held on with straight pins ... unless it's the same thing, with a giant gold tassel at the bottom?

See that? Even the camera is scared of that puppy.

Know what I'm scared of? Dwarfs with axes.

That little papier mache nightmare is lurking on the "window" side of the tree, ready to scare off would-be intruders. I try not to look at it, especially late at night.

Our recent ornament purchases have been a lot more subdued (thank god). I'm particularly proud of this year's additions, two glass ornaments I picked up while we were in Cape May. Not only can we say we have a bouncing pecker on our tree ...

... but we've also got one Plump and Perky Turkey, as Liza keeps calling it, thanks to the book of the same name we read to her at Thanksgiving.
According to the literature included with the turkey, this bird is a symbol for generosity and altruism - not, as Jason suggested, garish paint and glitter. And, as we all know, it's the symbol of The Best University In The World (go, Hokies!).

And, when asked the small talk question, "Which ornament would you save if the tree was on fire," Jason and I both agreed that we'd be singed for the sake of the handprints, plus Ralph the Christmas Angel:

This is the Mini Me version of the real Ralph, who is over a foot tall and resides at my parents house. Both Ralphs were carved by my father, and I'm looking forward to the day when my parents admit that they haven't actually put up any Christmas decorations since about 2002, so Big Ralph should come live with me. I'll have to reinforce the wall in order to hang that dude up, but I can't wait.

In the meantime, though, I have little Ralph, and Jason knows that he's likely to cause bloodshed if he tries to hang it up for me. He can hang the disco apple, he can hang the giant purple ball, he can even hang the beaded angels I got from Great-Aunt Emma that fall apart if you look at them sideways ... but he'd better step aside when it comes to Ralph.

Unless we get a really tall tree and I can't reach the top, in which case, be my guest.