Diane Keaton at Sue Fisher King

This is a True Story though there's no hard evidence to prove it.

I had a nice moment with Diane Keaton at Sue Fisher King's shop on Sacramento Street late yesterday afternoon.

I was walking on Clay Street, having turned there from Fillmore after having my hair cut by the sublime Lynn at Supercuts. I happened to be overtaken by a bald man in a gray suit with a hook for a right hand who walked more briskly than I, but that's another story.

Somewhere before Divisidero, a little disheartened by being outwalked by a bald man with only one good hand but nevertheless admiring the way he was carrying on in the world, I decided to make a left to walk along Sacramento to check out Sue Fisher King's elegant shop where the dinnerware of Lea Ann Roddan is often on display.

The feeling I have when I'm in Sue's shop is a little like not being able to wait to wake up in the morning--it's never quite what I expect, it's always new, always a little different even though I may have been there the day before. The rules are strict: nothing but what's beautiful is allowed in; it's mostly for women but it's ok to be a man too as long as you don't break anything.

While I was looking for Lea Ann's stuff, I overheard an exchange between 3 women standing near me, examining as I was some of the material objects on display, and a clerk who was standing in the second room behind a piller.

"Her name's Lea Ann," I heard the clerk say.

"Do you know her last name," one of the women shoppers asked.

"I forget Lea Ann's last name..." the clerk said..."she's a really nice lady."

At this point I looked up at the woman who was asking the last name of the woman who'd made the dinnerware she was holding.

The woman looked like Diane Keaton. She wore the little hat Diane Keaton always wears, a vest, a dress, and eyeglasses. She looked a little older than the Diane Keaton I'd seen in the movies, but she looked more real too and I liked that.

"Her last name is Roddan," I said. "Lea Ann Roddan."

"How do you know?" the woman who looked like Diane Keaton asked.

"Because she's my wife," I said.

Then we all laughed. The woman who looked like Diane Keaton looked at me. "That's too funny," she said. "I guess you should know your wife's last name." Then she turned, waved to Sue, and walked out onto Sacramento Street with her two friends.

Sue Fisher King herself came forward from the back room and greeted me. I confessed that I was checking up on Lea Ann's inventory. I told Sue that Lea Ann was at home right this minute, throwing new plates and bowls for the big order that Sue had commissioned for a Pacific Heights wedding.

Sue took my arm and said, "you know who that was, don't you? That was Diane Keaton."