I just love Lucy

There is something utterly soothing about the black and white universe that is Lucy. It is a world of aprons and house dresses and baggie pants and ties. The pace and tempo of the Lucy world relaxes me and causes me to momentarily put aside my worries and stresses. I can buy a new hat and put on my gloves and visit a charm school so my husband will notice me more at smart dinner parties. You gotta love that!

At the end of a long day of dealing with a stressful job, menopause, and worrying about bills and bankruptcy and selling the next painting, I can escape not into the oblivion that is lorazepam but in to New York City circa 1952. The effect is the same. Lucy never makes me laugh. To be honest, I'm much more interested in the smarmy slick chauvinism that is Ricky. I fast forward past his God-awful singing though. OK...so sometimes I take a lorazepam too but you get my point here.

So here's the deal......bear with me because this is a new awareness. As long as there's a stability, I'm perfectly content to cruise along a la Lucy and worry myself over why my newly purchased socks already have holes in the heals, and how to manage the stink bug problem, and how much I'd love to have new furniture. La la.........yeah........thats about it. I'm not compelled to push forward.

I start dangling over the cliff a little bit and suddenly I'm possessed by ambition and compelled to push myself beyond what I know I'm capable of, and on to what I hope I'm capable of. I'm willing to network and talk and sell and negotiate. I'm willing to risk failure on a grand scale. I really hope this is a good thing because I'd hate to be a poof of dust on the canyon floor like Wile E. Coyote. Now that I think of it.....what the hell.....I'd just get the fuck up again. I can poof. It won't kill me.

No matter what the end result of a long day, there is always Lucy and the gray world of poofy q-tip hair-doos and permanents and large button ear rings to remind me that death and illness and goodbyes, not to mention toilets, penises, farts and that embarrassing feminine itch can all fade momentarily to black in favor of demitasse cups and damask table cloths.