Brush With Fame

My kids love when I tell the story about my brush with fame. They've built it up over the years -- "Didn't you go to prom with Woody Harrelson?"
"No," I'll explain again.
So here's the real story, saved for posterity.
I grew up in Lebanon, Ohio, a small town between Dayton and Cincinnati. And, in spite of the history that Woody grew up in Texas, he went to my high school. He was into theater, but the only show I remember him performing in was Li'l Abner.
Woody is older, my brother's age, and we spoke, but I wouldn't say we were friends.
Now switch focus to a couple at school. Paul and Alice were the kind of couple who dated forever. As a matter of fact, I heard they got married right after high school. Paul was always a guy who flirted with me when Alice wasn't around. One week during my sophomore year, Paul and Alice broke up. The tears from the break up weren't dry when Paul invited me to a party that weekend and I said yes.
He picked me up, I can't remember the kind of car he drove or what I wore, but we went to the party somewhere out in the country.
Everyone was at the party, including Alice.
You can imagine what happened. Paul and Alice got back together at the party, so there I was dumped and rideless. That's where Woody Harrelson stepped in to save me. He offered me a ride home.
I'm not sure why I didn't ask my brother for a ride since he was at the party.
So, I was feeling humiliated about being dumped by my date, and Woody was jovial as he drove me home. We parked in front of my house and talked for awhile.
I don't remember if he was particularly religious, but I do remember his confession that he felt bad, guilty, that he had kissed so many girls in his life. He said he had kissed 71 girls.
I can't remember how I reacted. I was probably awestruck because there weren't that many girls in our small town.
Before I got out of the car, he asked if he could kiss me goodnight.
That's when I laughed and asked if he wanted me to be number 72 on the list of girls he had kissed? He did. So he kissed me goodnight and he gave me his senior picture after he had signed the back: "To number 72."
I wish I knew what I had done with that picture so I could tell you what the rest said. I could even scan it and put it on this blog post, but I don't know where it is.
So here's a picture from his younger days, closer to the Woody that I kissed in his car in front of my house on Ridge Road. The picture is from http://www.triviatribute.com/woodyharrelson.html

As a reporter, I've interviewed Catherine DeNeuve and Al Gore. I even walked behind Ted Kennedy, but I've only been kissed by one person who became a star.
How about you? Do you have a story about a brush with fame?

Stars and Sweat

Okay, enough worrying about self-centeredness. (See previous post.) Now, back to me.
I've been in a real exercise slump lately. I manage to run, interspersed with walking, a couple of days each week. I've gone to the gym to do the weight machines a few days each week. Last Thursday though, I dressed for the gym, dropped the kids at school, and came home to take a nap at 8:30 a.m. That is pitiful!
I missed my long run with my friends on Saturday too.
Maybe I'm just overwhelmed with teaching at two colleges and juggling five classes at one of them. But the essays haven't begun to flow in like they will in the coming weeks. Maybe I'm getting old and worn out.
Getting up at 5 a.m. just isn't as attractive as it used to be.
This morning, I didn't set an alarm, but I woke at 5:15 and got up. We had a wind advisory yesterday that was supposed to end by 2 a.m. When I hit the streets at 5:30, it seemed like no one had told the wind that it had a 2 a.m. curfew. It was still blowing gustily between the houses. I ran down to the main street and stopped to chat with some friends who bicycle at 5:45. Of course, I'm thinking that bicycling would be so much easier. Why don't I bicycle? But the wind definitely made it harder today.
So I did my 3.5 mile loop. It wasn't too bad. I do need some new music on my iPod though. Less cowbell.
When I got back to my drive, I looked up at the sky. I hadn't paid much attention to it, instead focusing on the asphalt beneath my feet. I strained my neck to look up, tilting my head far back until I felt dizzy. Then, eureka, I decided to lie down in the hammock for a clear view.
It was still dark, of course, but the sky was more navy than black. Big clumps of clouds skittered across the sky. As I lay there watching the clouds race, stars would wink in between. I could see one -- there -- for a good 30 seconds before another white streak of a cloud covered it. Then a clump of stars there then gone again.
I hoisted myself off the hammock and came into the house. Grace was in the shower. It was time to wake up Tuck. My morning had begun, but at least it started with the wind and the clouds and the stars, and a bit of sweat thrown in for good luck.