FUNKY OBESSION

Granted, I have many obsessions. My feet, for example. I really like having them look in tip top, spiffy condition 24/7. Perfectly clean, feminine looking, well pedicured, etc. I'm also obsessed with being sure I never breathe in anyone's germs should they cough and/or sneeze anywhere within a 35 foot radius of me. Traveling on an airplane? You should only SEE what I do to keep myself protected from other people's contaminating airspace. I know... I'm nuts. But today, I had a realization... yet another obsession is taking hold in the Land of Linda. I think I'm ALSO obsessed with mowing my lawn. Well, not the actual act of mowing per se, but with the way it LOOKS when the job is done. I love WATCHING the gardener when he's cutting the grass. Like, I turn into a sort of creepy peeping Tom or something. I'm obsessed with comparing the cut part, VS the uncut part. Yeah, yeah, I know. This sounds pretty racey, but let's try to keep our heads out of the gutter, shall we? Oops. Again, poor choice of words.

In any case, I am particularly intrigued with the clean, well manicured line created by the mower as it goes up and down the lawn. It's like I can't take my eyes off the transformation that takes place. One minute the height of the overgrown grass is unsightly. Boom. The next minute, its as stunning as any botanical garden you've ever seen! As it happens, everyone on my street basically has their lawn cut every week. I'm a cheapo, however so I only have it done every OTHER week. Have any clue how JEALOUS I become on my off week?? Watching all the other lawns on the block transform into this stunning sea of soft green? Oh man... its nuts. Its also pricey. So... the other day I had an idea. Instead of paying the gardener to mow it EVERY week, why don't I just BUY a lawn mower and cut it mySELF on the off weeks?? Oh yeah... I decided I'm doing the front yard only. The backyard is way too big to attempt. My obsessions DO have boundaries, I see. So, at first I was going to check out Lowe's and see about my choices. Uh... like just how DO you buy a lawn mower, anyway? Naturally, I've spoken to several men, asking for advice. I figured what a great birthday present for me! However... I THEN decided hold on. I should really wait until FATHER'S Day and cash in on some fabulous bargain aimed at the mower dept. I SO CAN'T WAIT. Of course, my gardener told me... Hey, don't BUY one. With the money you spend on a lawn mower, you could be having ME do it every week, for pretty much the same cost. Uh... he might be right... a minor glitch to my plans, I see. Not only that, I'd have to store the damn thing in my already crammed to the limit garage. But... I'm not giving up quite yet. I'll have to see what these little deals go for, and then I'll make my decision. Which only means... come this Tuesday, when everyone else's lawn looks spiffy as hell, I'm going to be sitting here watching, my mouth watering and as always, feeling pretty damn jealous. And of course... obsessing over the fact their lawns are gorgeous while mine looks like major crapola. Talk about keeping up the Joneses.

WHAT 61 LOOKS LIKE

YIPPEE. Tuesday was my birthday. Normally, I'd bitch about.... eeeks.... how old I am, but then I thought about what the alternative was, and decided instead, I should be THRILLED about my age. After all, neither Bob nor Linda ever made it to 60, so as far as I'm concerned, I should be tap dancing all OVER the damn place. Besides, I'm in excellent health. Well, okay. My sight, hearing and memory are on their way out, but at least I'm not wearing Depends 24/7. Uh... almost, but not quite yet. When my kid was just a toddler, many, MANY moons ago and he'd go to three year old birthday parties... I remember telling my friends... YOU SHOULD SEE WHAT THEIR GRANDMOTHERS LOOK LIKE! WAY BETTER THAN I DO! DAMNIT. And, it was true. Back then, I was like as haggard looking as you can imagine. I was also pretty blimpy given it was mandatory that I eat everything my toddler didn't. Oh, he had a clean plate, alright. Thanks to me. Plus, I was far from being COMPLETELY happy, being I was pretty much almost slave like to this little kid. Took me no time at all to realize housekeepers, babysitters, mothers helpers and sleep overs were my path to sanity. 1-2-3, I nailed those deals like a pro. Anyway, my kid is a man now and I'm 61. And, I'm a pretty damn happy 61 year old, at that. I look somewhat decent. I get good reports from my doctors. I have zillions of really fabulous friends and I have a loving family. I love my house and all my techie toys. I've got smarts and I've got experience. I've been around the block and I've racked up some pretty juicy memories. I know how to Twitter and I received lots of great birthday wishes via Facebook. Of course, I'm hoping to keep adding to this list and you know what? I am convinced I will! Yippee... bring it on. Well, don't bring on any more cell phone features. They're losing me but fast. So, basically... you want to know what 61 looks like? Bingo. There you have it, up there in the pict. It was taken on my birthday, so it's as up to the minute as you could want. Plus... Claudia and I looked at a picture of my grandmother recently, when SHE was about 61. NEWSFLASH: I look TOTALLY better than she did. Maybe she too, should have gone blonde. Regardless, for those of you out there who've yet to reach 61, take a tip from an old, wise lady: You're hopefully no where NEAR your prime. The best is DEFintely yet to come.... I'm living proof. Well, as long as you make peace with sagging bodies and early bedtimes, that is.

OIL MEN

Today I was pretty much scared out of my wits. ONSTAR, my vehicle diagnostic system, likes to send me email every month letting me know the exact status of how my car is running. Actually, it's a pretty neat deal, if you ask me. I drive my car. They tell me how my car is running. They do this via a satellite system that apparently is hooked into me and/or my car. Together, we make a great team. Except when they lie. As in: today. I received my monthly update of all the readings in my car... oil levels, current mileage, transmission, brakes, locking, airbag, emission systems, etc., etc. You name it, ONSTAR can track it. And, then, of course, they report to you via email. One minor glitch, however. THEY SCARED THE HELL OUT OF ME TODAY! Get this... I read the report, happy as a lark, scrolling down the page, seeing that everything is A-OK. Uh... until I get to the Oil Report, that is. I HAVE 0% OF OIL LEFT IN THE CAR!! Whoa. So not a good thing. Like, the transmission is going blow up at any second now, potentially costing me zillions of dollars to repair. EEEKS. Hence, I knew I had to take the car in SOMEtime today, after 1:00.

However... at 2:00 I decided to take a nap, instead. Big mistake. Who knew I'd sleep for 2 hours?? Bingo. I wake up, and about 4:30, I call my dealer, ask if it's too late for an oil change, they tell me sorry lady, we close at 5:00. So next, I call my trusty little neighborhood Oil Changing Man and he too, leaves at 5:00. But, not until he tells me: DON'T DRIVE THE CAR ANOTHER SECOND. YOU'LL BE DOOMED. As will the car. Instead, get to a gas station IMMEDIATELY and someone there will help you add the oil.

Damn right they will. Get this... I had no less than 6 gentlemen eager and willing to help out an old lady, knowing full well I had no clue what's entailed in adding oil. I couldn't believe it. I made friends FAST, trust me. We all deliberated on which grade of oil I needed, I bought it, and then we headed out to lift the hood. Uh... ANOTHER thing about which I had no clue.

It was right smack at that moment that Charles drove up. Bingo a REAL friend. He got into the mix lickety split and bingo, we were on our way. EXCEPT... within moments after that... you'll never guess who showed up! EUREKA! The ever popular, trusty, little neighborhood Oil Changing Man!! Whoa... talk about fortuitous!! Apparently he left work at five, just like he said and yikes! He headed straight to the exact gas station in which I was standing!! SEE?? I DID EXACTLY AS YOU TOLD ME!! I'M HERE!! Aren't you proud of me??

Needless to say, all of us moved out of the way to let the REAL man of hour do the trick. Guess what? First thing he did was actually CHECK the car's oil reading. Duh. EEEEEEKS. Guess what? I DIDN'T EVEN NEED OIL, AFTERALL!! In fact, I still had 41% of oil life LEFT!! Am so telling you... I was AMAZED at how serendipitous this was!! Can you believe it????

So, basically, ONSTAR lied. That's the bad news. The good news is: me and my newly made friends, all need to hook up again next week, same time, same place. Am telling you... I've found the secret to the manliest place in town. Forget bars. Forget wood shop classes. Forget hardware stores. Head right smack straight to a gas station! They're loaded with macho guys THRILLED to help little old ladies. Meaning: if you're YOUNG, you've soooo got it made. Trust me on this.

I'M FULL, THANKS

But Mia Farrow isn't. She's on a hunger strike. Hence, I've gotta imagine she's pretty damn starving at this point. Oh yeah... she looks like crap, too. I just don't GET why people are into hunger strikes. Man... there are people all over the world that would kill for what Mia might have stashed away in her side by side refrigerator. But... NO THANKS. I THINK I'LL STICK WITH MY DIET OF WATER, ONLY. For three weeks, mind you! Huh?? That even makes sense?? There aren't BETTER ways to hit home the plight of millions in Darfur? Besides, one of the problems Mia's trying to highlight is, get this: MALNUTRITION. What? Can't lick 'em, so join 'em?? Whoa. Now that's an interesting switcheroo. She's on day nine of this three week stint. I can't even imagine what she'll look like when it's all over. Plus... I've sorta gotta tell you. I have never yet been influenced for a cause due to a Hunger Strike. It's true. I hear of them of course, but it never makes me ponder more seriously, the issue. Rather, to me, it takes away from the issue. As in: making me think... WHAT?? IS THIS PERSON NUTS?? Starving?? That's the best way they can dream up help for humanitarian causes? Or ANY cause? I don't buy it. My guess is... they just might be trying to fit into an outfit for an upcoming event lickety split, thus... why not just kill two birds with one stone?? Look great (ahem) by being gaunt in three weeks AND then, concurrently grab some possible political attention. You can be mighty sure of one thing, I promise you. I'D NEVER go on a starvation diet! I can hardly hold out from meal to meal! Which is probably why right now, right smack next to me on my desk, is an opened bag of Fritos. Hey. What can I say?? Dinner is still about 3 hours away! Granted I should go on SOME kind of a diet... but starvation?? Are you kidding me?? I'd rather keep this unsightly chubby look ANY day than consider starving myself! Besides... denying myself was NEVER my strong suit. Which is why even I, can hardly stomach my birthday suit.