I Saw A Bare Naked Lady On Bay Street

I don't buy People magazine, or Hello, or any of the magazines that accost me while I wait to pay for my groceries. I do, however, read the covers voraciously. Why? Why not!

I really don't care much about the personal lives of people who act, make music or write. I don't need to read about Kate's pregnancy. I don't need to know how to raise a royal baby...because I already have.

The one thing I can't deny is the fact that when I see a 'famous' person on the street, I feel satisfied. I think that's the bird watcher in me! This morning Wendy and I walked past Ed Robertson of The Barenaked Ladies.

Neither of us gawked. Wendy didn't fawn all over him. Autographs were neither asked for nor signed. I didn't ask Ed how to hold a pick or how to properly strum an F barre chord. After we passed Ed, Wendy and I looked at each other smugly, knowing that we had just seen the musical equivalent of a glossy ibis in the Grand Lake meadows. Rare birds in strange places.