Five people who worry me

1. Abe Vigoda: He's still alive. I would have bet my house that he was long deceased. Yet Mr. Vigoda ("Fish" of Barney Miller fame) is still with us at age 92. It's not so much that I'm worried he's going to die. It's that I'm worried he's NOT going to die. That somehow he has developed superhuman longevity and will live for hundreds of years more, just waiting for the sweet sleep of death finally to overcome him. I would hate for him to have to exist like that.

2. The guy who decided the Kardashians should be famous: I don't blame the family for being so maddeningly overexposed. I blame the publicist who made it happen. One day we're going to find out who he is. And pardon my French, but there will be heck to pay. Oh yes, there will be heck to pay...

3. Anne Hathaway: We've covered this topic previously.

4. My lawn guy: I've had the same lawn guy (Bob) for more than 20 years. Several times a year, he comes by, applies a variety of fertilizers and chemicals to my lawn, charges me a pittance, and gives me written instructions on what specifically I should do to take care of the grass. And I do almost none of it. He says to mow on the highest setting, I mow it down like a putting green. He tells us to water the lawn, and we haven't done that (literally, I think) since 1998. I'm worried my noncompliance will eventually lead to an aneurysm on his part. It has to be frustrating. I'm sorry in advance, Bob.

5. Billy Joel: When Billy Joel was cranking out hit songs in the 70s and 80s, I think we all sort of thought of him as pleasant and harmless. Then he got into a series of car crashes in which alcohol may or may not have been involved, but you'd be pretty surprised if it wasn't. And then he peed in a bar with no toilet around. And then a few weeks ago his daughter's stalker was found naked in the woods, which while not an indictment of Billy himself, is still indicative of the craziness that suddenly surrounds him. I just want my happy little Piano Man back. Is that too much to ask?

I am a lawn warrior

I'm not a gardening type of guy. Many people plant vegetables or do yardwork to relax, but I would rather stick a hot poker in my eye than engage in either of those activities (NOTE: I feel the same way about golf. Remind me to blog about that at some point.)

The extent of my involvement in yard maintenance extends to just two activities. One is mulching. Once a year, I'll trot out the wheelbarrow and haul vast quantities of mulch to various designated spots so that my wife can spread it around and make our yard look halfway presentable.

The other is lawn mowing. I love lawn mowing. Seriously, cutting the grass is the one outdoor chore I don't mind in the least. I take my lawn very seriously.

Not to the point that I apply fertilizer and pull weeds and stuff like that, mind you. Just the actual once-a-week pleasure of firing up my Toro lawnmower and trimming the grass. I love doing it.

For one thing, the results are immediate. It takes me an hour or so to do our entire lawn, and right when I'm finished I can enjoy the finished product. Plant a garden and you're looking at months of work before you can enjoy a tomato on your salad or a slice of zucchini bread. I'm not at all down with the delayed gratification thing.

I have taught three of my children to mow the lawn, and I'm proud to say they're all top-flight grass-cutters. My lawn mowing philosophy, which I have passed on to them, rests on three basic principles:

* Make the first pass straight and the rest will follow suit.
* Outline your mowing area first, then you'll have easily visible boundaries in which to work.
* Mow low, don't listen to the lawn guy.

That last point is important to me. We've had our lawn guy, Bob, for about 20 years now. He charges ridiculously low rates and does a good job keeping the dandelions and other weeds out of our grass. Every time he comes over and applies some sort of toxic chemical to my yard, he leaves behind a note that includes a few handy lawn care tips.

Invariably, one of those tips is "mow on highest setting." I disagree with this. Vehemently. If I were to mow my lawn on the highest setting every time, the grass wouldn't even look like it had been cut. And plus, if we get a rainy spell and I can't get to cutting the grass at the regularly scheduled time, it will be a foot high by the time it dries out.

No, sorry Bob, that's not how we do it. We start out at a medium setting in the spring and gradually work our way down, so that by July we're on the second- or third-lowest setting allowed. I never quite go all the way down  because, while I like my grass low, I don't need it to look like the 18th green at Augusta. (Another golf reference. I'm not sure how that got in there.)

Plus, you want to be careful that the grass doesn't get burned out. We tend to have wet springs and dry summers here in Northeast Ohio. If you cut the grass too low, it all turns brown at some point and then you look like one of those People Who Don't Care. And I desperately want to avoid all appearances of not caring.

Because that's why we cut our grass, right? Sure, there's an element of self-satisfaction to a well-maintained lawn, but more importantly, it makes the neighbors think we're responsible people. And it keeps us on the right side of several city ordinances. We do it mostly to impress others.

I draw up a weekly to-do list, and every week between April and late October or so, one of the items on the list is "mow lawn." Always. And I relish it. When it's time to cut the grass, I become Tom Cruise in "Top Gun" (minus the high cheekbones and occasionally insane on-camera behavior). I'll put on the shades, strap on the iPod, and prepare to do battle with the evil forces of unkempt vegetation. If I had a cool flight suit to complete the ensemble, I would wear that, too.

CHRISTMAS GIFT IDEA FOR MY WIFE: If you were to buy me some sort of fighter pilot flight suit tailored to my exact size and shape, maybe with the words "Lawn Warrior" embroidered on the back, this is an item I would not refuse. I'm just saying.

If you're a suburban dad, one of the mowing issues with which you have to wrestle is whether or not to cut the grass with your shirt off. I tend to be a shirt-on kind of guy. For one thing, I'm a perfectionist, and because I don't have the abs of, say, a Channing Tatum, I would just as soon keep my shirt on, thank you very much.

But the same can't be said of all suburban dads. I admire the ones who clearly don't care at all. They'll do anything outdoors if it gives them a chance to take their shirts off. The result is that, while I may have more overall dignity than they do, they at least don't have the farmer's tan I sport annually at the community pool.

Then there's the problem of obstacles. Before each grass-cutting session, I will take a walk around the front and back yards to see if there's anything that will get in the way of my mowing pleasure. If I find something -- a toy, for example -- I will either yell into the house and get the offending child to come out and remove the obstacle, or I'll remove it myself, grumbling the whole time and making mental notes to exact revenge on the heathen who left it there.

And then we're off and running. As I said, it takes me an hour to cut the grass, and the whole time I'll listen to music on the iPod and generally just enjoy the exercise and the opportunity to be alone for awhile. After I'm finished, I bring out the edger and edge along the driveway. Then I'll sweep up the grass clippings that have made their way onto the asphalt, and voila: a neat, clean lawn for another week.

The sight of it makes me inordinately happy. You don't need to tell me how strange this is. I already know.