I openly wondered if Handler would be playing his accordion live with the band.

Lo and behold, today I ran into no less an authority on the subject than Mr. Handler himself, apparently taking a stroll in a Victorian neighborhood near one of San Francisco’s hilltop parks. It must have been a strange encounter for him — it was a chilly day, and I was on my bicycle with my three-year-old daughter, who was clad in a rainbow of colors, with silver sequined shoes and a shimmery silver scarf, sitting in her rear-mounted seat. I suddenly stopped mid-street, just ahead of him, and waited for him to catch up before disrupting his reverie. After verifying his identity (needlessly; I was certain it was him), I said I had just one question — would he be playing with The Magnetic Fields during their upcoming local shows?

I suppose it might have seemed less odd if I explained that I had just been asking that question (to people of lesser expertise) in a bar the prior night. Or, perhaps, that would have made it more odd.

In any case, he graciously said yes, he would, and that he was excited about the new album they were releasing. In fact, he didn’t seem startled by my shock assault at all.

I didn’t bother him for an autograph. I was on my bike, already confusing my daughter with my bizarre behavior, and without a pen or paper. That, and I already have his signature. I let him return to his brisk walk, and resumed our brisk ride.

When we got home I introduced Mather to the music of the Magnetic Fields, to which she responded, predictably, by dancing. A few years down the line she’ll no doubt be introduced to Violet, Klaus and Sunny Baudelaire. Hopefully she can one day mirror their ingenuity, but hopefully without a series of unfortunate events.