The Ninth Day of Christmas

On the ninth day of Christmas,
my true love sent to me
Nine ladies dancing,
Eight maids a-milking,
Seven swans a-swimming,
Six geese a-laying,
Five golden rings,
Four calling birds,
Three French hens,
Two turtle doves,
And a partridge in a pear tree.

This verse of the song can be a little confusing because there are two different versions of the lyrics; you can either have nine ladies dancing or nine drummers drumming. My drummers will come later. Today is all about dancing ladies.

Even though Epiphany isn't technically till Tuesday (January 6) the liturgical celebration of Epiphany was today. At Mass we sang the last carols till next year, and the lector announced that the poinsettias decorating the altar were available to be taken home. By next Sunday there won't be any signs of the holiday left in the church.

I decided to start undecorating the house today by taking down the tree. It's always a family event to put the tree up, but I take it down by myself. Years ago, when I couldn't get the boys to help me I turned it into my own event. I crank up my own music and dance around as I'm putting things away. Tonight after dinner I loaded the CD changer with Broadway tunes and started in.

First up, in honor of my feline friends sleeping on the couch in the family room, was Cats. This CD isn't a soundtrack, just selections from the show, but it has all the big songs. I did a little stepping with "Mungojerrie and Rumpelteazer" as I took the garland off the tree, but the pace of "Old Deuteronomy" wasn't fast enough for me, so I moved on to the next disc, which was the West Side Story soundtrack. I normally enjoy it, but today it wasn't doing anything for me; I moved on right after the Jets sang about being together "To your last dyin' day".

The third disc ended up being just right. Right from the "Overture", 42nd Street was perfect for my job. "Young and Healthy" and "We're In the Money" had me bopping around the tree as I unwrapped the lights, and "Lullaby of Broadway" was the perfect tune as I stuffed the tree parts into the box. The song "42nd Street" helped me drag the box down the stairs to the basement.

Ironically, the last disc was selections from Phantom of the Opera. As I was tidying up the living room, Christine was warbling..."Think of me, think of me fondly, when we've said goodbye." Was she talking about the Phantom or my tree?