Yeah, I confess. I'm a little starstruck. In the past couple of weeks, I've gotten to meet some incredible people -- actors and directors and producers, Oh my! Since my debut and farewell performance on the stage (Same show. Almost same night), as Mrs. Cratchitt in "A Christmas Carol," I've managed to develop a healthy sense of stage fright. When I meet those who tempt fate and tomatoes by going on night after night, reciting difficult lines and remembering not to fall off the stage, I am starstruck.

I like to think I'm fairly sophisticated when it comes to celebrities. I interviewed Gordon Jump over breakfast in a college cafeteria (he's the old Maytag man, as well as Mr. Carlson from WKRP in Cincinnati). I also got to meet Ralph Waite the same week (Pa Walton) and was very impressed; and Judd Nelson (The Breakfast Club) and was not.

I've interviewed Marty Stuart (funny!) and Tiny Tim (Brilliant. Wierd, but brilliant.) I even mugged Bruce Vilanch in the middle of a crowd at MGM Studios just to thank him for being the funniest writer in Hollywood. I've never really been left speechless by a celebrity, although I have been left impressed, especially with Lane Davies and his crew, who, on top of being incredibly talented, are also incredibly nice.

But Wednesday morning, I was left speechless.

I was sharing the same space as He's Putting on The Ritz, the 1996 World Grand Champion Tennessee walking horse.

I saw him win that year, and now he was regarding me from the other side of the stall at Waterfall Farms, royalty condescending to notice this poor, two-footed commoner.

We went on the Columbia Studios tour when I was 13. My dad wasn't much of one to ooh and aah over celebreties, so he waited for us in a diner near the studio lot.

"They put their pants on on one leg at a time, just like I do," he said.

We didn't see any big stars that day. In fact, we didn't see any little stars that day. The closest we got was a blur of green on the horizon as Lou Ferrigno ran off while they shot the pilot for the Incredible Hulk TV show; and the cockatoo that was the stand-in for the cockatoo on Baretta.

The stand-in.

When Dad picked us up he told us the diner had been crowded, so he'd been forced to share his table with a stranger while he read his newspaper.

It was Tony Curtis.

While we oohed and aahed and made a fuss over missing the Boston Strangler himself, Dad just shrugged and said it again.

"He puts his pants on one leg at a time, just like the rest of us."

I watched Ritz as he ignored me, then moved on to a friendlier visit with Jose' Jose.' I peeked into his stall, next in the rotation to be cleaned out.

"Yep," I thought, as I scratched his ear and he blew horse snot all over my shirt. "They don't put pants one one leg at a time, but they decorate their stall floors the same way every ordinary horse in America does."

I didn't care. I was still impressed. And still a little starstruck.