The Seal in Malibu

Earlier this year, James spoke to a Seal in Malibu. It wasn't just any seal. It was the "Kiss From a Rose" Seal. Except James didn't didn't know it was Seal. He told me later in the car that Twyla was charming up some guy at the Malibu Country Mart Starbucks for a piece of candy, and that the guy looked like Seal. Now, no one just looks like Seal. You either are Seal, or you're not. James then said that this guy had some scars on the side of his face. This was probably Seal.

James and I are known to do this. We are the worst celebrity-spotters ever.  It's not that we don't care. Oh we would, if we could just know who and where they were. I once had a whole conversation with Jennifer Garner and Ben Affleck in a Santa Monica Place elevator without realizing I was doing that. I saw this couple who had three kids. Two kids were in a blue Maclaren double stroller, and one was in an Ergo baby carrier. James and I have a Maclaren and an Ergo! Naturally, this was a acceptable point of entry into a conversation.  And we were considering having three kids. I asked the lady how it was, how she was managing. She smiled, and said something like, "it was hard at first, but it's getting better." Her husband stared straight ahead, gripping the handlebars of the double Maclaren, lips sealed shut like a child refusing food. The elevator got to the ground floor. We silently parted ways. I said to James, "LA people just aren't very friendly." James said, "and you want three kids? That guy looked completely beaten by life." James and I went to see Argo later that evening. About fifteen minutes into the movie, James said "that's the guy from the elevator." "No," I corrected, "that's Ben Affleck." We went back and forth on this, all while watching Ben Affleck mastermind a cover story for U.S. hostages. I finally conceded that James was correct. "Well, maybe that was their nanny who was with him," I ventured.  It wasn't until I googled "Jennifer-Garner-no-makeup" during an after-movie dinner of udon noodles that I realized we had spoken to her, too. I got kind of excited. Six hours after it happened.

That's right. We are the worst celebrity-spotters ever.

While watching the 2013 Oscars red-carpet pre-show on TV, I suddenly realized that the slightly-haggard mom from Clover's "My Gym" class was actually Amy Adams. All I could remember was that I once exclaimed to her that our daughters both had chubby legs. I don't think she said anything back.

And then there was the time I did a level-two yoga class at YogaWorks next to some svelte blonde lady. It was a very packed class, and I apologized to the svelte blonde lady for being so close to her mat. I don't think she said anything back. It was a really hard class, and afterwards, I told the svelte blonde lady that I thought it was a hard class. She didn't say anything back again. Schooled by my elevator and My Gym experiences on people who act weird and don't talk back, I googled "blonde-actress, mid-forties." There she was. The svelte blonde lady. Her name was Naomi Watts.

That's how you know. When you talk to someone, and they look at you like a startled deer, with big eyes and perked-up ears, looking alarmed as if they're wondering what you're going to do next, ready to dash at any moment. That's when you've been tipped off that you're probably talking to a celebrity. And if you're me, it's sometimes the only way you know. Pink sat down next to us at a Thai restaurant once, and I never would have known it was her had she not acted all weird and elusive while eating vegetarian green curry. Regular people just don't act all weird and elusive from under a big grey hoodie while eating vegetarian green curry. They just don't.

So if you're a celebrity, and you don't want to be noticed, don't act all weird like that. I wish I could tell them this. But then of course, they might give me that scared deer look, and I just can't handle that.

Which isn't to say that I NEVER notice celebrity-types. I do. But it usually has to be spelled out for me. Like the time I rode the elevator up to the Whole Foods on Wilshire and 23rd street, and saw two dudes posing for a photo by the radishes. One of them was super-hot. The not-hot one thanked the hot one, and put his phone away. Could the hot one be David Beckham? Heads turned, phones surreptitiously snapped. It was! I was proud of myself for noticing! I picked out ham next to him from the cold cuts case. He smiled at everyone, but clearly did not know his way around a supermarket. Not THIS supermarket, but ANY supermarket. It was a little like watching my mom in an Apple store. David and I drove out of the parking lot at the same time.  I let him go in front of me. Then I tried really hard not to crash into David Beckham. 

The other time I noticed someone famous at Whole Foods was when it was raided by paparazzi. Above is a photo of me taken by some paparazzi guy probably cursing me to get the hell out of the shot. I'm by the cookies, wondering who that blonde chick is that's getting everyone all excited. I later found out after googling "Wilshire-Whole-Foods-spotted" that the chick's name is Jennifer Lawrence.

You have to be really oblivious to not notice celebs while living in Santa Monica. They're kind of everywhere. Twyla shared a cubby at preschool with Lil' Wayne's kid. Clover tried to cut in line at Santa Monica Seafood in front of Geoffrey Rush. I almost hit Tim Robbins on a bike. James and I ate sashimi next to Sean Penn. I had to squeeze past Mike Tyson once to get through some scaffolding. I once jostled for a parking spot with Lisa Bonet. I interrupted some guys having an outdoor lunch meeting so that I could haul my stroller over their heads into my car, only to realize afterwards that they were Vince Gilligan and Aaron Paul. James and I saw Larry David buy, of all things, lox at Whole Foods. I stared at a box of ice cream bars until I realized the holder of the ice cream bars was Charlize Theron.

Living here, you're sometimes even forced to interact with famous people. Like that time I found myself on a Waldorf school tour with Michael Richards from Seinfeld. While touring the kindergarten room, he and I were asked to join hands for a circle and song. The teacher led us through a song about cows and buttercups, and the next thing I know, I'm galloping next to Michael Richards on an imaginary horse, and Michael Richards and I are pretending to pick apples and feed them to each other. 

If there's one small thing I'll miss about living here when we leave, it's these strange little moments. It reminds me a bit of living back in Boulder and spotting a fox, or a moose, or hearing a yowling mountain lion. Which reminds me, I'd like to see an actual seal in the ocean in Malibu before we move to New York. But I'm afraid those things are just way too hard to spot.