Vanity, thy name is (not) Lucy

Ethel: When you chew with that beard on, you look just like a billy goat.

Lucy: Nobody but a nanny goat would notice it.

None of us are completely without vanity. Even if I'm in such a rush that I leave the house in pajamas, I still manage to dab on concealer and curl my eyelashes. My mother, who's always felt that she's too short (at 5 foot 5), refuses to wear slippers without heels.

We all know Lucy was vain to a certain degree, as this all-too-human trait produced countless great moments in comedy: Lucy disguising herself as member of the chorus line at the Tropicana to spy on Ricky and and a seductive girl dancer; Lucy dressing up in an evening gown and full makeup to serve a seemingly disinterested Ricky breakfast; Lucy overspending on countless dresses/hats/etc.

Despite these examples, Lucy was always willing to sacrifice vanity for the sake of some greater purpose, a rare and valuable quality.

In Episode 89, "Lucy is Envious," Lucy (and, of course, Ethel) dress up as Martians and invade the top of the Empire State Building as part of a publicity stunt. The payoff? 500 bucks, which happens to be precisely the amount of cash Lucy accidentally donated to her snooty ex-schoolmate's charity (she thought she was pledging $5). The Martian costumes were far from flattering, but who cared? Not Lucy. Nor did she balk when Episode 79, "The Million-Dollar Idea," required her to take on the persona of a slurring, unkempt old woman disgusted by Aunt Martha's Old-Fashioned Salad Dressing ("What'sh Aunt Martha tryin' to do, poison me?").

Even less-flattering than the Martian outfits was the long white beard Lucy affixed to her face with spirit gum in Episode 23, "The Moustache." A visual protest of Ricky's new moustache, the billy goat beard didn't come off as easily as it was supposed to. It did, however, inspire Ricky to shave (and won Lucy an offer to play Ricky's father in a movie). But as memorable an image Lucy-The-Bearded-Lady may be, I do believe my favorite Portrait of a Lucy will forever remain her star turn as Queen of the Gypsies in Episode 38, "The Operetta." Far from the charming ingenue role one might expect Lucy to snatch in her self-penned play for The Wednesday Afternoon Fine Arts League, the Queen of the Gypsies was a snaggle-toothed, tambourine-carrying hag...who naturally stole the show.

It's a difficult thing for a woman to do, to deny The Beauty Myth its power. "It's a duty to be beautiful," we are raised to believe, when the truth is our only duty is to be ourselves: Some days a stunner, other days a stooge.

I have a naturally expressive face, I've been told. This rather cartoonish trait is not something I developed on purpose, it's just the way I've always been. So I was rather dumbfounded when, several Christmases ago, an older male relative took me aside to give me the following advice:

"You have a beautiful, classic profile," he said. "But when you make those big expressions, you don't look as beautiful. You should try to keep your face more...still."

He was a senior citizen and it was the holidays and I knew he meant no harm, so I just said "Thank you, that's very helpful" or something like that and walked away. At first, I wasn't sure how I should feel - embarrassed? Indignant? Repentant? No matter what I was feeling, I guessed I wasn't supposed to show it.

Salvation came courtesy of Lucy, as ever. Watching my idol on TV later that week, I asked myself a question. What would have happened if Lucy had "kept her face still?" Not much of anything, I realized - certainly nothing funny.

I'd rather look overly-animated than live an underly-animated life.

Making faces: It's what Lucy would do.

She's never early, she's always late

Ricky: Lucy, you haven’t even got your dress on yet. You were supposed to be ready an hour ago.

Lucy: Well, it’s all your fault.

Ricky: My fault?

Lucy: Yes. I wasted an hour telling you I’d be ready in a minute.

I’ve been running late since the day I was born, literally: I arrived two weeks past my due date. My life since has been a bleary blur of sleeping through alarms, sheepishly asking for late passes and hurriedly applying make-up at stoplights. I’ve tiptoed into weddings just in time to see the couple pronounced man and wife, I’ve missed the first acts of countless plays, I’ve arrived at birthday parties after the candles were blown out. In the process, I’ve irritated friends, family, bosses, co-workers, doctors, hairdressers…the list goes on. Those who’ve known me for a considerable length of time have learned to say “Meet me at 2:30” when they want me at 3 o’clock.

It’s a sickness of sorts, and my beloved Lucy was likewise afflicted. In Episode #33, “Lucy’s Schedule,” Mr. And Mrs. Ricardo miss an important dinner with Ricky’s new boss, Mr. Littlefield, because Lucy takes too long getting dressed.

Furious, Ricky decides to put Lucy on a strict timeline. “I’m making out a schedule so you can budget your time,” he says. “Budget my time?” asks Lucy. “Like I budget my money?” (“Heaven forbid!” says Ricky.) His plan is to ask Mr. Littlefield and his wife over for dinner, where he’ll be able to show off how he turned his tardy wife into a timely wonder. Unfortunately for Ricky, Mrs. Littlefield tips Lucy off ahead of time in a spirit of sisterly solidarity, revealing that she and her husband were invited to “watch her perform.”

And perform she does, with the help of Ethel and Mrs. Littlefield, staging a meal so speedy that no one can finish a course or a conversation. (My favorite moment: Ethel throwing biscuits from the kitchen to the dining room instead of carrying them.)

Ricky should’ve known better than to try to change Lucy’s stripes, as his previous attempts consistently backfired. But while not every punctually-challenged person is as stubborn or willful as Lucy, I’m not sure any of us can be reformed.

I once heard Dr. Phil say that people who have a problem with being on time are “arrogant” by nature because they don’t consider how their actions affect others. I vehemently disagree with this theory. When I’m late for something, say, a dentist’s appointment, it’s not like I breeze obliviously into the office and expect a warm, accommodating welcome. On the contrary, I spend the drive to the dentist sweating and cursing at stoplights and start apologizing profusely the second I burst through the door. I’m aware of the fact that people are negatively impacted by my delinquent arrival, and I feel horrible about it. Still, the pattern is firmly in place: First, the clock magically speeds itself up when I’m not looking. Then, once I take notice of the time, I enter into a sort of panic-induced paralysis. The floors turn into quicksand, my eyes glaze over and all I can hear in my head is the tick, tick, tick of the mounting minutes.

I imagine this is what Lucy felt standing at her closet door, contemplating what to wear to dinner with Mr. Littlefield. Ricky’s repeated nagging certainly didn’t help. While you might expect that telling someone to hurry up would make them, well, hurry up, in my experience it only adds to the immobilization.

So yes, Lucy was always late and it drove everyone around her nuts and I undoubtedly drive everyone around me nuts. Ironically, I think it was Lucille Ball (off-camera) who offered the most pragmatic take on this type of inherent personality flaw. “I think knowing what you cannot do is more important than knowing what you can,” she said.

It sounds counterintuitive, to plan life around your limitations – but at the same time, it makes more sense than anything else.

Most importantly, it’s what Lucy would do.

Travel Insecurity

Train Conductor: Ma’am, did you stop this train by pulling that handle?

Lucy: Well, I didn’t do it by dragging my foot.

The current controversy over intrusive airport pat-downs and full-body scans that could double as X-ray porn has me wondering: How would Lucy handle traveling today? The methods of regulation are more high-tech now than they were in the '50's, of course, and I assume the "security agents" of Lucy's time were more polite than most of the "Respect My Authority!" power-trippers I've encountered en voyage. Still, I suspect Mrs. Ricardo would have found a way to fly the un-friendly skies without compromising her own agenda.

Indeed, Lucy knew better than to let a little red tape ruin her travels. In Episode 153, “Return Home from Europe,” Ricky tries to discourage Lucy from taking home 25 pounds of rare Italian cheese on the plane, worried they’ll be charged for the extra weight. Figuring babies travel for free, Lucy secretly decides to disguise the enormous cheese as her infant, blanket and all. Not until Lucy and Ethel are on the flight do they find out that babies do not, in fact, fly free of charge; whether the bundle in Lucy’s arms is cheese or child, it’ll cost them...unless, that is, the pair can manage to eat most of the smuggled snack before the plane lands. So what if a horrified fellow passenger ended up mistaking Lucy for a baby-eating cannibal? She never did have to pay for the damn cheese.

Not that Lucy always successfully sidestepped protocol. The guards at the border of Italy and France posed more of a challenge than any cheese-sniffing stewardesses (calm down, it's okay to say "stewardess" in a retro kind of way). In Episode 151, "Lucy's Bicycle Trip," a misplaced passport keeps Lucy stuck in Italy while Ricky, Ethel and Fred pedal their way into France. Lucy pleads with the guard as she waits for the rest of her crew to bike all the way to Nice (where she thinks her passport is packed in a trunk) and back, but the Italian official is unmoved: "You gotta have-a you pass-a-port!" Lucy realizes the passport is in her backpack just several feet away on the other side of the border, but still the guard refuses to let her pass. Even disguising herself as a biker in a race doesn't work. She is forced to wait for hours until Ricky returns.

I usually prefer Lucy to outsmart whomever she needs to, but I'll admit that recalling this episode gave me great solace a few years ago when I was experiencing my own passport problems (namely that my kids' passports arrived a day after we were supposed to leave for Mexico). I tried my best, but the guys at JFK were unswayed by my tearful protestations: "How can a five-year-old and a ten-month-old be terrorists?" They didn't go for my indignant arguments, either: "Why would you punish my innocent children for the passport agency's mistake? My poor little girl is devastated!" (Cue high-pitched wail from child.) I switched to a calm, rational stance after the fifth time the large man in the uniform told me to lower my voice or else - "I understand you're just trying doing your job...would it help if I got someone from the agency on the phone who can explain what happened?" - but only the fellow travelers behind us in line were convinced. "Oh, just let them get on the plane!" a grandmotherly type yelled from the back. No dice. We had no choice but to reschedule our flight for two days later.

The only thing that made me feel better was the FOUR OUNCE bottle of hand lotion I managed to carry onboard undetected in the depths of my diaper bag.

A lesser triumph than the cheese-smuggling incident, but a victory Lucy would have appreciated.

How to Be A Domestic Goddess (Or Just Look Like One)

Ricky: (Referring to the Ricardo’s apartment) It’s a regular pig-pen in here!

Lucy: It ain’t a regular one, but it’ll do.

Back in Lucy’s day, women were judged by the cleanliness of their home and the quality of their pot roast. I’m not too worried about anyone giving my apartment the white glove test or testing my bread-baking skills, but the pressure is still on: Whether it’s Martha Stewart telling me to vacuum my ceiling (seriously?) or Giada De Laurentiis implying that I'm a bad hostess for not stuffing and deep frying olives as appetizers for my guests, our society sends much the same message to women today.

Lucy was as interested in keeping up appearances as anybody, but she wasn't about to let the drudgery of housework get in the way of far more fascinating pursuits...particularly when there were shortcuts to be found. In Episode 178, "Lucy Raises Tulips," Lucy has her heart set on winning the Garden Club's prize for best-looking garden, an award nosy neighbor Betty Ramsay has won for the past three years. When a lawnmower gone mad destroys both Lucy and Betty's gardens right before judging time, Lucy simply repopulates the flower beds with wax tulips. Too bad about that noonday sun...

Back to the vile practice of judging women by their level of domestic prowess. Lucy thumbed her nose at the notion that performing menial tasks with a sense of obligatory zeal made a woman noble or worthy. None of that brainwashing was going to mess with her priorities. In Episode 25, "Pioneer Women," Lucy and Ethel want to join the Society Matron's League and fear that their dishpan hands will be a turn-off. Justifiably, they ask Ricky and Fred for dishwashers. Naturally, this kicks off a battle-of-the-sexes type contest (who can go without modern conveniences longest, the girls or boys?). This episode is probably best known for the 18-foot loaf of homemade bread which ends up bursting out of the Ricardos' oven, but one of my favorite moments was when Ethel disproved the "do-it-yourself and save money" myth by spending over $20 in her effort to churn one measly pat of butter.

I've had more experiences like this one than I care to admit (as their repetition suggests a stubborn streak I pretend not to have), but I finally learned my lesson trying to recreate an authentic Korean restaurant dish, japchae, at home. The main ingredients were cellophane noodles and very, very thinly julienned vegetables, the first of which I'd never cooked before, the second of which I'd never pulled off successfully. An hour or so into the project, the over-soaked noodles were spilling over every surface in my kitchen like so many gluey, transparent worms; thanks to the brand-new mandolin I didn't know how to use, blood was spattered on the floor and smeared on dishtowels.

Believe me when I tell you there's nothing like julienned fingers to cure you of culinary ambition.

Now, when asked to produce a challenging meal, I do what I believe Lucy would do...I order take-out. (And say I made it.)

Here's to Good Friends...

Lucy: Oh gee, Ethel, thanks. It’s times like these you know what friends are really for.

Ethel: If I had known this was what friends were for, I’d have signed up as an enemy!

There’s no denying that Lucy’s friends went above and beyond the call of duty, time and again, for their unpredictable pal. But isn't that what true friendship requires of a person? Anyway, I would argue that everyone in Lucy’s circle – Ethel, Fred, Caroline Appleby, even Mrs. Trumbull – got back everything they gave and then some. For one thing, friendship with Lucy guaranteed constant entertainment. For another, the woman was as loyal as Ricky’s accent was thick. Why else would Ethel be willing to help her best buddy steal John Wayne’s footprints from outside of Grauman’s Chinese Theater or agree to dress up like an alien on a NYC rooftop?

When trouble did arise in companionship paradise, Lucy and Co. didn’t stoop to sterilizing their emotions for the sake of a "rational" argument. It was full-on emotional warfare; a knock-down, drag-out fight.

Take Episode 69, "Lucy and Ethel Buy the Same Dress." Set to perform a duet of Cole Porter's "Friendship" on television (television!), the pair unwittingly purchase the exact same gown to wear. When they figure out their mistake, both Lucy and Ethel graciously offer to return their dress to the store. Then they realize that to be truly fair, they should both return their gowns and start from scratch. Not until the cameras are rolling do the identically-dressed friends discover that neither has kept her promise. That's when the Girls Go Wild, abandoning their choreographed moves to rip up each others' costumes instead. (Ricky and Fred step in before anyone is actually stripped naked.)

Most conflict-resolution experts would probably find the above scenario unacceptable. But there were no grudges to be held afterward, no lingering resentments. Every shred of ill-will was left in a pile of tatters on the stage. The dresses were destroyed, but the relationship remained intact.

This is the stuff of lifelong camaraderie. My dearest friends are the ones who have seen me at my absolute worst and still (for some reason) stick around. And there's no better bonding experience than a high-stakes, adrenaline-filled misadventure. As I write this, I am flooded with memories of many such times. The only problem is, admitting to any of them would implicate whichever friend was involved, and, while I don't mind tarnishing my own reputation, I can't in good conscience trash any of my friends in a public forum.

Another mark of true friendship: Covering your pal's tracks when necessary. That's what Lucy would do.

Whole-hearted, half-baked

Ricky: What's so bad with being a drummer?

Lucy: It's just not good enough for a son of mine.

Ricky: Well, it's good enough for a husband of yours.

Lucy: Well, that's different.

Ricky: How is that different?

Lucy: He's my flesh and blood. You're just a close relative.

Motherhood is tricky business, a thorny subject to dance around. As a mother of two who is frankly relieved if my kids are breathing at the end of every chaotic day, I don’t buy into the “perfect mother” myth. I suspect Lucy didn’t either. Unfortunately, we viewers don’t get to see the former Miss McGillicuddy up to her elbows in motherly dirty work: diaper changes, time-outs…those everyday chores existed only off-screen. This doesn’t really matter, though, because what we are privy to tells us everything we need to know about Lucy’s mothering style: Whole-hearted, if half-baked. (Just like me!)

In Episode 136, “Nursery School,” a nurse at the hospital where Little Ricky is getting his tonsils removed informs Lucy that she isn’t allowed to stay overnight with her son. As if! Lucy stuffs Little Ricky’s teddy bear under her coat, posing as an expectant mother, to get past the front door; once inside, she smartly snatches a nurse’s uniform. Needless to say, Little Ricky does not spend the night in his hospital room alone. Any mother – myself included – who has spent such a night “sleeping” in the pediatrics ward at her child’s bedside can relate to Lucy’s determination in this case.

True maternal grit is shown in Episode 163, “Little Ricky’s School Pageant.” Not every mother would fly across the stage of a grade school auditorium dressed as a witch to help her shy son remember his lines. Along “it takes a village” lines, Ethel, Fred and Ricky step up, too, playing a fairy princess, a frog, and a hollow tree, respectively. (If you ask me, Ricky gets off easy.)

For mothers today, one of the most relatable - almost prophetic - episodes about parenting was #157, "Little Ricky Learns to Play Drums." Long before over-scheduling kids with "enriching" activities became a trend, Lucy recognized the importance of encouraging children's interests and nurturing potential talent. Though she fantasizes about raising a future physician, Lucy is unabashedly supportive when Little Ricky decides he wants to play the drums. (Naturally, big Ricky is all for his son's career choice). In fact, both parents are so enthusiastic that they allow Little Ricky to play the same beat on his drum over and over and over again for four days straight. Eventually, everything they do is synced to Little Ricky's rhythm: Cracking eggs, scraping burnt toast, chewing. Downstairs, the Mertzes are likewise afflicted (even Ethel, trying to get Fred's attention, speaks in time: "Fred. Fred. Fred, Fred, Fred!"). Lucy and Ricky are as weary of the ceaseless beat as the rest of the building, but show appropriate parental indignation when the Mertzes complain. A fight of epic proportions ensues (and is comically resolved) but Lucy never wavers. Agonizingly repetitive as Little Ricky might be, she has no doubt her son is a musical genius.

I was reminded of this episode last night, at a restaurant where I was eating dinner with my mother, my five-year-old son and nine-year-old daughter. It was one of those miraculous evenings when my children were oddly well-behaved, quietly reading and coloring at the table as we waited for our food. Sadly, the two moms seated at the table to our left were having a very different dining experience. Their five small charges were deep in the throes of pre-bedtime hyperactivity, popping under the table, running in circles, tossing ice cream and shrieking. It was significantly distracting, but I couldn't allow myself to be annoyed, knowing that my children have similarly irritated innocent restaurant patrons despite my best efforts to quiet them down. (Anyway, the rowdy group was already on dessert well before our entrees arrived.) As they walked by on their way out, one of the moms stopped at my table. "I'm so sorry about the noise," she said. "I don't know what got into them."

"Please, don't apologize," I said. "I've been there! Didn't bother us at all."

A lie, yes. But, more precisely, an example of simple parent-to-parent etiquette based on an unspoken rule of motherhood so perfectly illustrated by Lucy's defense of her little drummer boy: We are allowed to complain about our own children's actions, but should anyone else dare to voice their displeasure...! Unleash the redheaded dragon.

My daughter was about three when she threw a huge tantrum in the middle of our walk home from the park. I've since forgotten what she was so upset about, but I do remember with perfect clarity the high decibel screams coming out of her mouth. I was trying my hardest to calm my daughter down when two older ladies walked by, one of whom pointedly shook her head and covered her ears.

That's when I threw a little tantrum of my own. Am I proud of yelling obscenities at senior citizens in front of my preschooler on a public sidewalk? No. Would I do it again? Would Lucy? Oh yeah.

Climbing The Ladder of Success (No Matter Who Gets Knocked off)

Ethel: There are a lot of things you’re good at.

Lucy: Like what?

Ethel: Well, you’re awfully good at…uh…you’ve always been great at…

Lucy: Those are the same ones Ricky came up with.

Poor Lucy. Her problem wasn’t a lack of aptitude, it was an overabundance of talent – and nowhere to put it.

Cast in the role of wife and mother, Lucy dreamed of becoming a star in her own right. In Episode 65, “Ricky’s Life Story,” Lucy explained to Ricky: “It’s only because of Little Ricky that I want to get my break in show business...when he goes to school and his playmates ask who his parents are, just what is he going to have to say? ‘My father is Ricky Ricardo, the internationally known entertainer. And then there’s my mother, whose name escapes me for the moment.’”

Lucy was looking for much more than fame, she was searching for validation outside of the domestic sphere, something women today – even those straddling both career and motherhood – still struggle to find. (If that line of thinking sounds antiquated to you, consider the fact that as recently as 2004, the U.S. Census Bureau reported that women made only 75.5 cents to every man’s dollar.)

A little recognition, that’s all we want. Lucy’s top career choice may have been show biz, but that didn’t stop her from throwing herself into a staggering array of unrelated enterprises, from salad dressing manufacturer to butcher to Vitameatavegamin spokeswoman to, perhaps most famously, chocolate factory worker. No matter what job she wanted, she never let trivial things like experience get in her way.

I get it. When I was a young and struggling actress frustrated at being shut out from major film auditions (one required a heavy-hitting agent to line those up), what did I do? Used my mother as a temporary “Ethel” and invented a non-existent talent agency. Am I a star? No. Did I almost get to be in a movie with Brad Pitt? Yes. (But I try not to think about it.) It's common practice on a variety of levels, whether you're a teenager writing your best friend's name down under "Most Recent Employer" on your first job application or a mid-level executive bluffing your way through the latest software ("Sure, I'm familiar with that program.").

Lucy knew she had potential. Most of us suspect the same of ourselves. But what set Lucy apart was how far she was willing to go to prove it - no matter what (or who) stood in her way.

Consider the many, many occasions on which Ricky attempted to keep his wife in the wings. Not only did Lucy always find some way into the show, she usually managed to upstage Ricky in the process. In the aforementioned episode, "Ricky's Life Story," Lucy is enraged to find that Ricky has tricked her into gratefully accepting a silent role in his routine (sitting on a balcony, holding a rose in her teeth while he serenades her with "Lady of Spain."). She keeps quiet, all right...but hams it up for the audience performing magic tricks whenever Ricky turns his back. A stellar show-stealer, that Lucy.

And so, on days when I'm feeling a little low on mojo, I remember Lucy with that rose between her teeth and think: This show is mine for the stealing.

I encourage you to do the same.

Get Rich Quick (and Hide Debt Fast)

Lucy: This is my system for paying bills. You see, I throw them all up in the air and the ones that land face up are the winners.

Ethel: By the “winners” you mean the ones you pay?

Lucy: Uh-huh.

Ethel: But what happens if they all land face up?

Lucy: Well then I just switch. I only pay the ones that lay face down.

Okay, so Lucy was in the red more often than not. (At least her money management philosophy matched her hair color.) Have you no credit card debt? Have you no student loans looming over your head like an ever-present sword of Damocles?

The key differences between Lucy's financial problems and our own are her stunningly inventive solutions.

I've already referenced several of them on this blog - her table-turning way of dealing with a strict "business manager," her faux charity raffle, her gutsy funding of the Fine Arts League Operetta with a post-dated check (possibly my favorite if only because that episode includes the beyond-classic "Queen of the Gypsies" number).

But Lucy wasn't all about patching up holes in her piggy bank. Her business sense was right up there with her imaginative powers; indeed, I would say one complemented the other.

For example: The transplanted city girl was willing to take up poultry farming to help pay the bills at the Ricardo's Connecticut residence (Episode 171, "Lucy Raises Chickens"). Even those without a vivid visual memory of every I Love Lucy moment (like me) can immediately bring to mind the image of Lucy chasing hundreds of fluff balls on feet around the house, sweating from the sweltering heat (turned up for the sake of the baby chicks).

No, Lucy was not opposed to hard work, nor was she particularly careless with money, in my opinion. Nevertheless, ends wouldn't always meet - without a little stretching. I can relate, as I'm guessing most of America can right now.

At the risk of getting arrested for what I'm about to write, I will elaborate. I hate my leased car, a lemon made by one of the several automobile manufacturers that went belly up this year. My lease is almost up, but not quite. I've tried talking to the dealership (here's a hint: the make is named after a planet with rings around it) about how to get out of the lease based on all of the problems I've had with the car, I've tried an online lease-swapping service (don't do it! It's a scam!), I've tried everything I can think of to get rid of this falling apart death machine before paying another cent. (Like I have a spare $300 per month to waste on a borrowed possession I despise!) I've been joking for months about driving my car into a crime-riddled neighborhood and leaving it there, but last week I actually found myself Googling "how to fake a car theft." And here's the best part: I didn't get any useful tips, but I did learn that the number of faked car thefts in this country is positively soaring! Proof that people nationwide are being driven (no pun intended) to crisis management strategies worthy of Queen Lucy herself!

My only fear is that the authorities won't have the same reaction Ricky would have to such a scheme - a brief, bug-eyed temper fit followed by affectionate resignation ("Oh, Lucy.")

I'd rather get spanked by an exasperated Cuban than sent to the big house.

Anybody interested in stealing my car?

The show, or life, must go on

I've been a bit under-the-weather this week, which got me thinking about Lucy's approach to health and wellness.

Madame Ricardo was rarely sick, though the art of feigning illness was a well-played card in her deck. Any true injury or malady suffered was usually a condition Lucy accidentally brought upon herself in a botched attempt to reach a goal.

Been there, done that.

In Episode 3, "The Diet," Lucy will stop at nothing to lose twelve pounds in four days, a metamorphosis that would make her just the right size for a dancing costume in Ricky's show at the Tropicana. Lucy's self-imposed diet/exercise program is more punishing than any stunt on "The Biggest Loser" (have any of those contestants ever spent five hours in a pressure cooker box or wrestled table scraps from a dog?). Doubtful that she'll lose the weight, Ricky hires another dancer. Fortunately, when that dancer quits at the last minute, Lucy has successfully shrunk herself down to size and steps in to much applause. Unfortunately, the poor dear has to be wheeled away on a stretcher post-performance due to malnutrition - but not before handing Ethel a set of keys to the closet where the dancer who "quit" is trapped, bound and gagged. (The moral of the story? Dieting makes us crazy. I have too many stories in this vein to recount.)

No matter how horribly Lucy mutilated herself in the name of stardom, she always went on with the show, a most admirable trait.

In Episode 20, "The Fashion Show," Lucy eagerly volunteers to walk the runway for famous designer Don Loper as a "celebrity wife." All of the wives will be wearing their own dresses from his salon, Loper explains. No problem, figures Lucy, who doesn't actually own one of the exclusive garments: She'll just buy a dress, one simple dress. "You didn't ask how much it costs," hisses Ethel in the showroom. "Ethel, you don't ask the price in a place like this," says Lucy. "You don't?" "Of course not," explains Lucy. "You wait until they turn their back and sneak a look at the price tag."

No backs are turned, so Lucy blindly purchases a dress and waits until she gets back to the hotel (this was during the California season) to check the tag, which reads a whopping $500. The gown has already been altered to fit and can't be returned, so Lucy figures her only hope is to spend the day at the pool and get horribly sunburned - Ricky wouldn't dare hit her then, would he?

Ricky doesn't lose his temper, but Lucy endures a terrible amount of physical pain nonetheless when Loper switches her runway look to a scratchy tweed suit at the last minute (such a soothing fabric against angry red skin). Still, she staggers through the show, albeit stiffly.

The closest I ever came to a moment like burnt-to-a-crisp Lucy's was long ago, back when I was a young aspiring actress in a touring production of "Godspell." The night before a big performance I clumsily dropped a glass on my foot, leaving a gash deep enough in my big toe to require stitches. The show must go on, my director reminded me (as did my moral compass, set to follow in the footsteps of Lucy). I made it through our next two performances in a wheelchair, which screwed up the dance numbers considerably but made me an audience favorite. Took me a while to figure out this was because they thought I was actually disabled, but whatever.

Years later, as a single mother, I find Lucy's brand of stubborn stamina an inspiration in surprisingly practical ways. Just because I wake up with a fever of 103 doesn't mean my kids don't need their breakfasts made, their lunches packed, and a ride to school. The show must go on, my inner Lucy reminds me.

And so it does.

Love, Lucy-Style

Lucy: Hey Ethel, guess what Ricky got me?

Ethel: Um…let’s see. A hat? A new dress?

Lucy: Oh, Ethel, better! Think about what every woman wants from her husband.

Ethel: A divorce?

Challenge me on this one if you choose, but it’s my belief that over half a century since Lucy and Ricky made an art of marital sparring, relationships between men and women haven’t changed all that much. Never mind that most households are now double-income, or the fact that wives are no longer expected to honor and “obey” their husbands to the same degree. Behind closed doors – or, screw that, oftentimes in public – men are men and women are women and very intelligent people who have made it their lives’ work to study this kind of thing have all kinds of statistics to back me up. (Also, pretty much every woman I’ve ever known agrees with me.)

In other words, we still feel the need to go to great lengths to keep our men interested, to keep the flame burning (oh no? So that last bikini wax was for your own benefit? Please.). Lucy got jealous when a new dancing girl at the Tropicana gave Ricky the eye, but do we not feel the same sense of steaming suspicion when some attractive female Facebook “friend” posts a possibly flirty message on our boyfriend’s wall?

When we modern girls feel taken for granted or doubtful of our partner’s undying affection, our options are limited. We can “talk” to him about our needs and how they’re not being met, carefully phrasing each sentence: “When you do or don’t (fill in the blank), it makes me feel (fill in the blank).” Has this method worked as well for you as it has for me? (Which is to say, not at all?) We can vent to a girlfriend. We can bury our emotions and then blow up over “nothing,” screaming about a dirty dish left on the table or the toilet seat left up. Or, we can ask ourselves…What Would Lucy Do?

Lucy would don a brunette wig, off-the-shoulder blouse and hoop earrings and pretend to be a sultry stranger to test Ricky’s wandering eye. In Episode 93, “The Black Wig,” Lucy does just that, inspired by the chic Italian haircut of a sexy screen goddess. “I flirted with him a little and what do you think he had the nerve to do? He flirted back!” she tells Ethel bitterly. “He called me ‘honey’ in a tone I haven’t heard since before we were married!” Ethel is sure Ricky knew it was Lucy all along (which he did, thanks to a tip-off from the owner of the beauty parlor where Lucy got her wig), but is still intrigued enough by the scenario to agree to go along with the next phase of Lucy’s scheme and similarly disguise herself for a double “date” with Fred and Ricky. Unfortunately, Ethel gets stuck with a cobbled-together costume made up of a geisha girl’s wig, a fringed Native American dress and Eskimo’s fur coat (“You look like an ad for a trip around the world,” says Lucy).

I’ve never actually disguised myself to test a man’s fidelity, but that’s only because high-quality wigs are prohibitively expensive. I do, however, share Lucy’s jealous streak. Also like Lucy, I loathe to be ignored. In Episode 98, “Lucy Cries Wolf,” Ricky’s distant behavior at the breakfast table is the catalyst for the day’s shenanigans. Hiding behind his newspaper, Ricky doesn’t respond when Lucy asks him, repeatedly, whether he’d like more coffee. Lucy refills his cup anyway, causing Ricky to yell after his next surprisingly scalding sip.

“I’m sorry I burned you, but it’s no fun sitting here watch you read the newspaper,” Lucy says. For a moment, it looks like Ricky is going to put his paper away, but he hands her a section to read instead. Disgruntled, Luc y happens upon an article about a woman who was brutally burglarized after her husband ignored her calls for help. “That man didn’t love his wife very much,” Lucy concludes before asking if Ricky would “come home the minute I called” to say she was being robbed.

“What for, we’re insured,” says Ricky, but soon pacifies Lucy by promising that he would “fly from the ends of the earth” if he sensed she were in the slightest danger.

Lucy is comforted, but skeptical. So later that day, she calls Ricky at the club about a “horrible, strange-looking man” on the fire escape. “He’s seven feet tall! You better come home, hurry, hurry!”

Moments later, a frantic Ethel and Fred burst into the Ricardo’s apartment. “Ricky called us from the club! Are you all right?”

Lucy is disappointed. “How do you like that? Here I am in terrible danger and he just sits by the phone. I could have been murdered while he was waiting for a call back.”

“You still might be,” says Fred. “My blood pressure has better things to do than play He loves me, He loves me not.”

I will admit that I have modified and used this tactic to my advantage once or twice. Frustrated after a long night of waiting for my then-boyfriend to return my calls (as was usually the case in that relationship), I burst into tears when, around midnight, he finally got back to me.

“I’ve been calling you all night because I thought I heard someone trying to break in my front door,” I said between sobs. “And I kept hearing these weird noises outside…”

Looking back, I don’t know why this guy’s response wasn't: “So why didn’t you call the cops?” Instead, his voice got very soft and he apologized for not calling back earlier. “I’m so sorry, you must have been so scared,” he said. “I’ll always call you back right away from now on.”

My plan backfired slightly over the coming months, when the boyfriend grew increasingly paranoid about me going anywhere by myself at night (he was a possessive sort, anyway) and insisted on buying a gun for me to keep in the house. But in that first moment, boy! Lucy's ruse worked like a charm.

Ever try a similar strategy? C'mon, confess...

Lucy is my co-pilot

• It's a helluva start, being able to recognize what makes you happy.

—Lucille Ball

Welcome to What Would Lucy Do? Following the Gospel of a Comedy Goddess, my guide to living life according to the word of her hennaed highness.

First, allow me to do some 'splainin.

I am not a therapist. I am not a member of any clergy, or a life coach, or a spiritual advisor, or even particularly well-adjusted.

I am not technically qualified to give anyone advice on anything (despite the fact that I sort of do that for a living, as a writer for magazines that give women tips on everything from potty traning to staying fit. But basically I bluff my way through that, a skill I learned from…that’s right, Lucy!).

I am, however, a lifelong fan of Lucille Ball. I grew up watching many, many reruns of “I Love Lucy.” usually when home sick from school with a feigned illness (hmm, did I learn that trick from Lucy, too?). Of course I grew up doing other things, too. I went to school – when I wasn’t pretending to be sick – and church, and read books and took piano lessons and ballet and obediently participated in all kinds of stuff intended to teach me how to live a good, productive life; to grow into a successful, well-rounded, respectable woman.

But here’s the thing:

Now that I’m an adult, and have been for…a while…I find myself turning to the lessons I learned from Lucy more often than I recall the words of any sage or scribe, any well-meaning guidance counselor or credentialed mentor.

For example, consider the time my downstairs neighbors were putting up a (very unreasonable) stink about the (barely discernable) footsteps of my three-year-old daughter. Probably the correct response from me would have been to “turn the other cheek,” as I was instructed in catholic school decades ago. Instead, I enlisted my then-husband in a foot-stamping, cookware-dropping crusade intended to drive them away for good. (And they thought our kid was loud! Ha!) Sound familiar? It should: My plan was inspired by I Love Lucy Episode 18, “Breaking the Lease,” in which Lucy and Ricky wage earsplitting war against Ethel and Fred, who dared to complain about the Ricardos’ rousing late-night rendition of “Sweet Sue.”

My redheaded guru has also been an invaluable source of wisdom when it comes to money. Someone like Suze Orman, for example, warns against engaging in things like fraud, tax evasion, and running from credit card debt. That’s all well and good, but hasn’t Suze ever found herself in a pinch she couldn’t pay for? In my day, I have answered phone calls from collection agencies in a foreign accent and denied knowledge of any such person with my name. I have kept (and cashed) duplicate checks sent in error by an employer. I have charged items on my deceased father’s credit card (hey, it’s not like he’s going to get in any trouble for it at this point. What are they gonna do, drop his credit rating?).

Lucy understood and accepted that such creative financial tactics are a sometimes-necessary evil. Seems I was paying attention when The Queen of the Gypsies herself financed the Wednesday Afternoon Fine Arts League operetta by writing it with Ethel and paying for costumes and scenery with a post-dated check (Episode 38, “The Operetta”). Even more so when Lucy turned a punishing budget imposed by Ricky’s business manager to her advantage by charging all of the neighbors’ groceries on her store account – and pocketing their cash for herself (Episode 100, “The Business Manager”). Most of all, I believe I was influenced by the sheer brilliance displayed in Episode 137, “Ricky’s European Booking,” in which Lucy and Ethel hold a raffle for their phony charity, The Ladies Overseas Aid, in the hopes of funding a trip to Europe. (“We’re ladies. We want to go overseas. And boy, do we need aid!” rationalized Lucy.)

Here at What Would Lucy Do? Following the Gospel of a Comedy Goddess, I hope to offer such refreshingly screwball solutions to practical matters. From relationship troubles to friendship foibles to career roadblocks, Lucy could finesse her way out of just about any fix – or at least give everyone a good laugh in the attempt. If Lucy founded a church, what would her commandments be? What would a self-help book by Lucy say?

WWLD? Stay tuned to find out...