One last bit about the name dropping, an interesting story (or maybe not — you be the judge) about one of the kids who slept over last night.

Zoe asked me to come to her class once for Show and Tell — she wanted to show off my tattoos. (The one on my left arm — the biggest one — has her name spelled out in it, which is why I was to be her Show & Tell item. Click here to see it.) So I showed the kids that one and they all oohed and aahed and Zoe got to puff up with pride, and then I pulled up my other shirtsleeve to show the Elvis tattoo.

Now, The King is long before their time, so I figured I should explain who he was, so I asked, “Have any of you ever heard of Elvis Presley?” The kid who slept over here last night, whose mother is an actress, piped right up and stopped me in my tracks:

“I do! I do! My uncle is married to his daughter!”

I stopped for a moment and considered that statement and realized that in fact it was true — her aunt had once been married to the actor who went on to briefly marry The King’s daughter. So, technically, she was right.

Which meant that I was only four degrees of separation from Elvis. Through a 3rd grader.

Hey, I’ll take it.