LYNN IN WHITEHOUSE, TEXAS

DEAR ABBY: My mother is constantly calling me to say, "Did you just call me?" Anytime her phone rings and she can't get to it, she calls everyone she knows and asks that question. It is particularly irritating if I am in the middle of something that's difficult to put down when that's the only reason she called. Then she hurries on to the next person on her list to check.

I have repeatedly suggested caller ID, but she won't get it, saying she'll just check around. She knows it's irritating, especially when she calls me at work.

Any suggestions on how I can either learn to live with this, or get her to stop it? -- LYNN IN WHITEHOUSE, TEXAS

Oh Lynn, haven't you realized you've provided the answer to your own problem? You suggest your mother get caller ID so she can tell who just called her. But you're the one who needs to get caller ID so you'll know when she's calling you. As far as work goes, most office phones have some sort of caller ID or at least a way of showing the number of the caller. If that doesn't work, just tell her you're working and hang up. She'll stop calling you at work after five or seventy times of doing that.

It's clear your mom is lonely and is using the "did you just call me" as an excuse to call people. Try to convince her to be more creative with her pleas for help. She's elderly, so have her call people for computer help. The internet is broken. How can she fix it?

Besides, don't people who still use landlines in addition to cell phones have the *69 feature where you can call the last caller back? If it's an add-on service, I suggest you pay for it and train your mom to use it.

If that doesn't work, next time your mom calls and asks if you just called her, say "Mother? Is that your voice? It can't be! Your funeral was last week!" Then scream, hang up and deny it ever happened.

Your advice, readers?

LUCY IN LAS VEGAS

DEAR ABBY: I live next door to a 75-year-old man whose wife died a few months ago. I'm fairly new to the neighborhood and heard of his loss just before Easter. As a caring gesture, I took him a homemade casserole and left my number in case he needed help going to the store or a cup of coffee. Since then, he has been over once with flowers to chat and have coffee, and is now calling me every few days inviting me for lunch, a glass of wine, etc.

I am engaged to be married and he knows this, but my fiance lives in another town. I realize my neighbor is lonely, but he appears to be thinking romantically. I am 30 years his junior and busy with my life. I only just met him and have nothing to say except to listen, which would be OK if I didn't think he was looking for more.

When he was here for coffee, he kissed my forehead several times when he left and wanted several hugs. I feel so sorry for him, but I don't want to lead him on or hurt him more than he already has been. Could this man actually be thinking of another woman this soon after his wife's death? How should I handle this? Please reply ASAP! -- LUCY IN LAS VEGAS

No good deed goes unpunished.

You thought you were dealing with a grieving 75-year-old widower. The image immediately conjures up a sad, semi-pathetic man shuffling along in a corduroy suit, tears constantly welling in his cataract smeared eyes.

What you fail to realize is that a 75-year-old man is just a 25-year-old man who has aged 50 years. Now that his wife is out of the picture, he's going to play the field. Imagine his luck when a woman nearly half his age stops by with a friggin' casserole--and you don't even live in the Midwest. You offer to help him go to the store, get a cup of coffee. For a 75-year-old, asking to go for a cup of coffee is like asking anyone under 40 if they want oral sex.

I wouldn't be surprised if this guy had his own MySpace page and a profile on at least twelve online dating services. He's milking the aging widower angle, knowing a little sympathy may be his last chance at a Viagra fueled night of passion where money does not exchange hands.

You wanted to appear caring and generous with your time and now that he wants to actually take up your time, you no longer feel sympathy for the widower. You thought he'd just live his lonely existence for a few months until dying in his sleep. It's time to face the fact that--despite whipping up casseroles and making empty promises of heartwarming cafe conversations--you're more generous with your good intentions than you are with your time.

Your advice, readers?