Am I Objectum Sexual? Is it Tractor Porn?

Every year I purchase a calendar for my office. I have been doing this for 14 years and there is a very specific type of calendar It must be.  A large glossy shiny wall calendar made by the good people of 'Silver Lining'. It's of tractors posing in various American seasonal landscapes. Each monthly tractor has his own brief synopsis. For example,
The 1957-62 Ford 541 "Offset" tractor
As its name implied, Ford's "Offset" tractor, model number 541 in the Workmaster line, featured its controls and drivers position relocated to the right side for an unobstructed view of implements, which were mounted below instead of behind this high-clearance machine. Ford 541 models were built from 1957 to 1962.
When I go online to order my calendar a rush of anticipation and anxiety runs through me. I swing from "I hope there's more Ford than John Deere models" to "What if the publisher stops making this calendar?" I panic as my Abandonment Schema hijacks my emotional wellbeing.  

I was recently introduced to the film Married to the Eiffel Tower and have been daydreaming about some of the tractors I've fawned over in a new way. Maybe I have, in my active imagination, had dalliances with almost all of these tractors during the years. But when I really think about it I'd give them all up without hesitation to marry the Hoover Dam. 
I love the Hoover Dam. He has all the qualities I want in a man. He's unpretentious, practical, consistent, amiable and enjoys entertaining guests, He is beautiful on the inside and when you explore his inner workings he's full of adventure and fun information. He can handle all my moods too. I can get dizzy staring into his gorgeous centrifugal themed terrazzo floors or I can mope around one of his dank cavernous tunnels. I'm a little intimidated by his presence but feel completely safe within his confines. He's a steadfast American Socialist and is located right in the middle of nature. He serves his community and is impressive to look at from every angle. He reminds me why I moved to the United States. I even respect his ex wife, the Colorado River. She's cool and nice to me but I understand why she loses her patience with him. It's been a complicated and volatile relationship.

Located just West of Lankershim and North of Delusional.

As I backed out of a clients driveway and into their sleepy cul de sac this glorious morning I took a moment to pause and wind down my car windows. It was then I was audibly accosted by an enthusiastic and cheery "Hello there!"
I looked back and to the left, back and to the left.
The lady, (pictured below) while maintaining eye contact with me the whole time, grappled with something inside of a colorful bag hanging over her opposite shoulder. She then enthusiastically pulled out her stuffed dead cat.
"My name is Betty and this here is Bones." I was shocked and instantaneously mesmerized.  My mind squealed to itself  "Kathy, this is fucking awesome"
Once lovingly tucked under her right arm she delicately placed her left index finder and thumb around the feline's flaccid paw and made the unmistakable gesture for me to shake hands with her cat. I hesitated for a split second but she reassured me. "It's OK. He won't bite." I could not argue with this.

I reached out my driver's window for Bones' limp paw.  As I did she explained to me she had requested the taxidermist keep Bones' right paw loose for the succinct purpose of him being able to engage in handshakes.
"Pleased to make your acquaintance Bones "I said politely.
"Say hello Bones" Betty cooed into Bones' ear.  He didn't reply and much to my disappointment Betty wasn't a ventriloquist.
"He gets to meet more people now that he's...well, you know.....like this"
"Naturally" I said.