Hearts A Flutter At 85th & Third Ave.

I've been told that David Duchovny and his brood live in my hood.  More than two and a half years after moving here, I finally saw them yesterday morning.  He and his wife Tea Leoni were walking and talking with their arms closely linked together, their footsteps in tandem, her head slightly leaning into her husband's body.  For a couple in their forties, their affection for one another still shows.  Very sweet.  But they were both mighty thin.  I know lean is in and all, but an extra biscuit or two now and again would do those guys some good.

How lame is it that I get excited over bumping into celebrities and high profile individuals?  They're not very different from me, except maybe they have more in their bank account and maybe a few injections of Botox.  In my defense, the only time I got so excited that I nearly peed in my pants was when Jacques Pepin kissed me on my cheek at the French Culinary Institute {+}.  And mind you, Jacques is more like a sweet old grandfather celebrity (with mad kitchen skillz).  Chances of my mingling with a celebrity, like ever, are 0%.  So what is it that makes my heart skip a beat when I recognize high profile faces on the street?  Fame, money, glory, power, talent?  Why am I so attracted to these things?  They have nothing to do with me...

Which leads me to an embarrassing confession: Why do I follow Josh Groban's twitter?  (Totally covering my face with my hands right now.)  I've somehow - rather pathetically - managed to project my ideal man's qualities onto Joshua.  He exudes the perfect balance of kindness, humor, calm, intelligence, focus, silliness, and humility that I'd want in my future husband.  I find his good-natured sweetness very attractive; his voice, speaking and singing, nothing more than a bonus to the whole package.  I'm talking crazy talk, I know, but I bet every lady out there has a celebrity figure they admire in this way, too.  Don't worry - Julia hasn't lost her marbles.  It's just a resolute sign that it's high time I start actively dating for my future husband because my heart fluttering over someone I know absolutely nothing about and whom I'll never meet is just plain nonsense.  Anybody?  Are ya' with me?

Now excuse me while I listen to some Josh Groban while I bang out some cover letters.  I think a respectable job would help rebuild some of my self-esteem, maybe even enough to get me on track to being a happy girl looking for - what do they call it? - ah, yes, love.  To be clear, less of the David Duchovny sex addict kind of love and more of the Josh Groban sweetness kind of love.