April 01, 2002 | 7:57 PM

I�ve got my drink on and I�m feeling a tad sentimental.

I talked to my grandparents on the phone today.

I love them more than I can possibly ever communicate. Completely and totally unconditionally. There is no baggage with them. They are just the most special, outstanding people in this entire world. So bright and full of life. Anyone who says old people are boring and staid should meet them. They are sharper and more intelligent and have better, dirtier, more sarcastic senses of humor than anyone else I have ever met.

I love their lives. I love their stories.

My grandfather had three brothers�an older brother Norman, and two younger brothers, Harold and Allen. Norman was one of the few jews admitted to the University of Rochester in the first half of the 20th century. He was a Med student and was working in a lab when he contracted spinal meningitis. He died of it, and passed it along to their mother, who also died of it. Allen also came down with it but survived and married the nurse who saved him, my great Aunt Yhetta.

(Great Uncle Allen died of a heart attack when I was small. I became pretty close to Great Aunt Yhetta. She lived in Phoenix and I used to go visit her every summer. She was a sharp lady. She was head nurse at Strong Memorial Hospital in the 50�s when women were supposed to keep their mouths shut and raise babies. Fuckin� Aunt Yhetta, man. She was a pioneer. She died of altzheimers a few years ago. I always really liked her. She didn�t take shit from nobody.)

A year or so later, my grandfather's father, grief-stricken at the loss of his son and wife, dropped dead of a heart attack. At the time his parents and older brother died, my grandfather was a musician�he played the piano and had the most beautiful voice you can possibly imagine. He was supposed to go to The Eastman School of Music to live out his dream. But he gave it all up to take care of his younger brother Harold, who was a small boy then.

Then, my grandfather met my grandmother. On their first date he told her,

Honey, I�m not the marrying kind.

And she said back to him,

Jesus. Who the hell wants to marry you anyways?

A year later, they tied the knot.

I love to look at their wedding picture. My grandmother�s gown has a long train and she looks so beautiful. She won a beauty contest when she was in her late teens, and was a champion dancer�she won some big Rochester jitterbug tournament in the forties.

My grandparents love each other so much. They have the greatest marriage of anyone I�ve ever known. I think they are the reason I believe in true love. I can�t imagine them being with anyone else besides each other.

When I was a very small girl, my dad worked full time at Kodak and my mom was a psychiatric nurse. So I spent a lot of time with my grandparents. They were always kind to me, and so much fun to play with. They took me to the playground all the time and to the swimming pool, and we always went to the movies together. When we went to the cinema, I would insist on bringing all my favorite dolls and stuffed animals with me, and we would secure an entire row so that each doll could have her own seat. This probably pissed people off, but my grandparents didn�t give a shit.

They introduced me to Carrie Grant. And Count Basie. And Sherlock Holmes. And Mozart. And to history�I knew everything about the Russian Revolution (my grandmother�s father was a bolshevik in Russia, and was arrested on the streets of Rochester NY for handing out communist pamphlets. My grandma was always irritated by this, but I think she was also a little thrilled) and the civil rights movement and the Vitenam War before I was ten.

Like my father, my grandparents never ever talked down to me.

When I got older and was in high school, their home was my refuge from the craziness going on at my house (a couple years after my dad died, my devastated and not-thinking so-clearly-Mom married a complete nutcase.) I went over to my grandparent�s at least twice a week. Ate dinner with them. Listened to jazz music. Watched old movies. Played cards. Sang duets of old blues standards with my Grandpa as my grandmother knit and made jokes.

It was so wonderful.

God I miss them so much.

I feel so blessed that I am privileged to know two such outstanding human beings.

Whenever they call me, they tell me how much they love me and how proud they are of me.

No Grandma and Grandpa. I am so proud of you. I am proud to be related to you. Thank you so much for being so wonderful and for being such a special, important part of my life. I will cherish you always.

I did a SAGA update earlier today if you care to read it.