2013 was a banner year for us. We bought a ramshackle little bungalow with a 5” leveling issue from corner to corner, and I quit my job. I only knew I was tired of flying out on Mondays and flying home on Saturdays, only to get up and start the process from scratch. When I approached my boss about doing more work in Texas proper, she added Colorado and Florida to my Minnesota, Louisiana, Illinois, & Texas territory. What I didn’t know is that I would receive the blessing of getting to know my father again, shepherding him to the VA for doctor appointments, and losing him in 5 years. I became a SAHD (stay at home daughter). Every moment was cherished. You know what else I did the moment I stopped traveling? I watched every single episode of I Love Lucy, in order. Sorry, all you Friends fans. Monica, Rachel, and Phoebe may be funny, but they’re hen scratch compared to Ethel & Lucy. There is a Lucy episode relative to every stage of life. What’s my favorite episode? Vitameatavegamin? Madame X? The serial killer and the watercress sandwiches? Grape stomping? John Wayne’s footprints? I can’t pick a favorite. My life took a turn this week, though, in a 50’s parallel of unprecedented proportions. Remember the time Lucy was furious at Ricky because he wouldn’t pick up after himself so she staged their living room as a hillbilly haven complete with overalls, a chili bowl hairdo, and live chickens? Turns out that was the night Look magazine was coming to do the cover story on the Ricardos at home. Sometimes, you can’t win for losing.
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