Open a New Window

Well here we are on the last day of November, the last day of NaBloPoMo, and I haven't written sh*t.

Why start now?

Falling in love has been hell on my blog, friends. :)

And my beloved's punishment tonight? I'm subjecting her to the musical Mame, starring Lucille Ball and Bea Arthur...

in singing parts.

Now, I love me some Lucy. I sometimes feel like I was partially raised by her -- particularly on Friday nights in the 70s when my father was on Rescue Squad duty and I was allowed the extravagance of frozen pizza on a TV tray in the living room, while watching episodes of I Love Lucy on Channel 5 ("The fun's on Channel 5!")

If I was lucky -- or my nagging was successful -- I'd then trot on around the block and spend the night at my maternal grandparents' house. It's no wonder there was a period of time when my young self confused my grandmother with Lucy (addressed in The Gift of Grace)...

Loooooooooong, rambling story short, you really have to LOVE Lucy in order to get through Mame. It's a sweet story, but directed by a famous Broadway director and filmed as if it's in front of a theater audience - complete with overly long pauses for laughter. Not too much of that present in a film, Gene Saks. Let's move this baby along.

Have I mentioned it was filmed in 1974 and Lucille Ball had been smoking for many a decade at that point? It's painful to hear her speak let alone attempt to sing. And perhaps my favorite touch? In an effort to make her look younger and believable as a free-wheeling late 1920s' Manhattan party girl, the director has seemingly coated the lens in Vaseline for her shots only. Everyone else is crystal clear while our dear Lucy is fuzzy softness. Cybill Shepherd should have sent her a thank you note during Moonlighting...

The movie's been off and on for most of the night. We're probably about a third of the way in. I'm writing and Girlfriend is Christmas shopping online. This isn't a good sign. And yet, it's nice to look up and see my old friend Lucy.

Our memories really are ours alone. Our likes and dislikes, too. We can explain them and share them as best we can, but ultimately it's something we can only share with ourselves. I love you, Lucy; I always will. And I love you too, Girlfriend. Thanks for trying to share my memories with me. :)