It was on Sunday. Mr. Knightly and I went to Culver City to have lunch at Tender Greens (I love that place) and just next door at his son's restaurant there he was, Indiana Jones himself, sitting outside with who I believe was his daughter-in-law and grandson. Holy cow! I think I get why the celebrity-obsessed get so freaked out. I've seen my share of celebrities living in L.A., but they're never ones that I'm fans of (Paulie Shore? Usher? Sarah Gilbert? Billy Connelly? David Spade? Dylan McDermott? Adam Carolla? John Cusack (post-Say Anything), Aaron Eckhart (pre-Thank You for Smoking). It's not like I got to see holy-freaking-mother-of-all-celebs-Harrison Ford! Until Sunday! Shazam!
I have to admit that I stared. And sort of grinned a goofy grin. And if he could have seen me, I would have waved and maybe smiled at him. Not that it would have been of any consequence to him. And I'm a little embarrassed to admit this, but man, that made my day!