Suzy Says

My horoscope for today, from the Chronicle: “You’ve spent too many nights worrying. Let matters run their course.”

Considering I’m writing this at 1:00 a.m., it’s probably good advice.

Reward for walking home on Tuesday: I finally got to see Nicolas Cage! He has a house (one of many, I’m sure) three blocks from our place, and in the 7 years we’ve lived on this street, I have never seen him. But on Tuesday, there he was, chatting to two guys in his garage with the garage door open. He has quite a messy garage. As I passed, I smiled, and he smiled back and said “Hey”. Brush with fame!

This brings me to a grand total of 4 brushes with fame:

1. Driving through Seacliff in my convertible with the top down, passed Robin Williams’ house with a birthday party going on for one of his kids. Balloons and kids everywhere, Robin severely outnumbered but taking it well. Exchanged a smile and wave, my usual MO when encountering famous people.

2. Walking across the Hungerford Bridge in London, saw Elvis Costello shooting a video. I was with my Dad, which really limited the fun, because he had no idea who Elvis Costello was and there was no point in trying to explain it. Usual smile & wave exchange. Elvis was wearing a silly hat.

3. While visiting Althorp, Princess Diana’s childhood home, met her brother and had an actual conversation for a change. He’s really a celebrity by association, so it may not count and might be the reason I was able to exchange words instead of the drive/walk by wave’n’smile.

4. The Nicolas Cage walk by wave’n’smile.

Why is it that I can never come up with a clever and/or witty thing to say when faced with a famous person?

Reward for taking a cab home yesterday:

Cab driver looked very Japanese, much like Pat Morita, but talked like a hick from Arkansas, the total hillbilly accent. The contrast was so delightful that it was hard not to laugh. Cab driver also a conspiracy theory nut who held forth all the way home. He was wasted on me, since he was really John’s dream cab driver. He also reminds me of a story John tells of when he lived in Edinburgh and was going home late one night. The only other person on the bus was a very drunk Indian (as in Indiah) guy, beautifully singing “Danny Boy” with a deep Scottish accent.