I went to a funeral Saturday because my bestest bud’s grandfather died. Because it was to be a Masonic service, I was actually kind of interested in seeing it, if that doesn’t sound too morbid. I mean, I didn’t know him personally so I wasn’t overcome with grief; I was there for my friend and her family. Anyway, the Masonic service was quite formal and ceremonial, although not nearly as elaborate a ritual as I was expecting. Her granddad was a member of the Free and Accepted Masons, so maybe other orders like Scottish Rite or Ancient Accepted Masons have more elaborate procedures. Not being a member of any of the orders, I can’t say for sure. I’m not sure women can be Masons and if they can’t, that’s just fine with me. I’m not one of those hairy-legged, braless feminists that feels the need to protest my exclusion from private organizations. Let ‘em have their clubs, I'll join clubs that want me, it’s all good.

After the service, this very elderly couple came up to me and the gentleman said, “I want you to know you have got the prettiest hair that I’ve ever seen in my life - and that’s a long time.” His wife chimed in and said, “Isn’t it? I was admiring it earlier. And it’s not just her hair - she’s pretty.” He agreed, “Yes she is.” I’m not trying to sound conceited or too vain to be tolerated - it’s just that compliments like that buoy my spirits for days, sometimes weeks afterward - compliments that one knows are sincere, because the person has absolutely nothing to gain from the flattery (false or not). Often, even compliments from friends don’t mean as much to me because, after all, they’re my friends. Their perception of me is skewed because they appreciate the creative, funny, interesting, positive qualities I have and overlook - or forgive - my petty, mean, nasty, spiteful qualities. I know, too, that certain friends of mine would say that any compliment from them is 100% sincere because they pride themselves on honesty, but I know reality is that they’re way too intelligent to get caught in that trap. For example, one of them might say with complete truthfulness, “No, of course that dress doesn’t make your butt look big.” And that’s a completely honest statement. However, we both know the part that went unarticulated, which is something like, “This is just a hunch, mind you, but I kind of suspect that it might be your butt that makes your butt look big.” At any rate, that old couple doesn’t know how happy they made me, all weekend and spilling over into today.

After the service, I went to the ‘rents for the opening race of the Formula One season. I think the (London) Daily Telegraph said it best: “Ferrari kicked off the season with an imperious 1-2 at Albert Park”. Can I get a ‘booo-yah!’?!? Schumy had lapped the field up to sixth place and everyone except Barrichello (2nd) and Alonso (3rd) were more than a minute behind him. I’m glad Ferrari is off to a slamming start this year. It’s been a great run after a 21-year drought so I’m reveling in every moment we’re on top.

Interesting F-1 Australia factoids: 1993 Australia was to be the last victory in the illustrious career of the incredible, unforgettable Ayrton Senna...but I don't really want to dwell on that. On a more cheerful note, the first Australian F-1 champion was Jack Brabham (1959, 1960, 1966 championships) and the coolest thing about Jack Brabham, in my not-so-humble opinion, is that when he won the championship in ‘66, he did it in a car he built himself. Thus far (and probably forever, the way the sport is trending) he is the only man to have done so.