This post is from 4/10

Last night we went to dinner with some friends to some L.A. restaurant.  While waiting for a table I see Randy Newman scurry by me towards the back, but I didn't realize it until he had already passed by.  So the rest of the night I struggled with thoughts that defied me between being "cool" or a complete blubbering idiot and try to talk to him.  More than just talking, I had a feeling of gratefulness for the music he has written, while not extremely poetic or deeply insightful as someone like say, U2, still helped me pull through the day many times.

Dinner was wonderful.  The drinks must have been even better.  So much so that when Simon (the guy from American Idol) was left alone at his table across from ours I felt compelled to wave to him...  he just seemed somewhat ill at ease by himself...  almost uncomfortable.  So out of kindness I waved, I guess Gin and Tonic and I decided he needed the attention.

As I got up to use the restroom, the amount of drinks I'd had became clearly evident.  Walking in heels has never been my forte, and something I don't much practice, so I became slightly self-conscious.  Blessings to the attendant that was keeping drunk-vigil by the steps.  I now believe that his sole job is to stand there to help people judge the distance betweeen their toes and every one of those three steps.

On my way back and after I had practiced balancing high heels and alcohol, I turned on the charm and told the Step Guardian that I would really like to meet Randy Newman.  I'm not sure which charm it was I turned on and given my condition I don't think I really had a conscious choice, but the SG started asking all the other waiters, the maitre'd, host, etc. culmitating with the Manager where Randy could have gone.  Nobody seemed to know, and those "in the know" said I'd seen the wrong person.  I ended up face-to-face with the manager who was absolutely convinced that Randy Newman did not enter the restaurant that night.  Although I tried to convince him otherwise, he was unmoved and ready to dismiss me...  Suddenly, I resorted to the last of all resorts:  We were in an Italian restaurant.  The manager was Italian.  He must like cars.  He must like Ferrari.  DING!!!  "you're Italian!" I said, "My husband spent a lot of time in Italy!  He used to race for Ferrari in Formula One!!" and then the final "Come, you should meet him!!!  Just remember to come get me if by any chance you happen to see Randy Newman".

So when Randy Newman was about to resurface from the restroom to leave the restaurant (I knew it), the ever-so-wonderful manager came to get me.  Actually, the manager and a couple of the waiters all came, very excited for me.

I got my chance.  I was able to tell Mr. Newman how his "I love L.A." had been at times an escape from Indy, how on dreary days it took me back to California and helped keep my hope of moving back some day.  Of course I also told him the kids love the songs he's written for Disney and he told me of a new kids' movie that is about racing, of all things.  At some point I took him to meet my husband and they chatted briefly and...

that's about all. 

I got to thank someone for the work they did.  I don't know why, but it makes me very happy to let a person know I get and appreciate their work.  I know L.A. has many bad things, but the way I feel about this place is summarized in that piece of Randy Newman's work. 

And I love it.