Why, Christopher Lowell, you're so calm ...

Before I could have my audience with designer Christopher Lowell, a game of video peekaboo with his manager was necessary.

Three of Lowell's media people had coordinated a 4 p.m. Thursday interview between us at Hotel Sofitel in Bloomington. Lowell, who told me he is returning to TV with another show, was here to shoot ShopNBC segments about his new bedroom collection. The new concept is that it's not appropriate for the bedroom to look only like "her" when there is a "him" there, too. Lowell's handler, Dan, told me to call when I arrived in the Sofitel lobby and they'd come downstairs. I walked into the lobby about 3:50 p.m. and noticed in the distance a guy with Lowell's distinctive forehead and facial hair. The only problem was that this guy was calm and reserved as he shook another man's hand. That couldn't possibly be Lowell, I thought; he must just be a look-alike. But what if it's Lowell, just chilling? This could be a great video moment of Lowell doing something besides frenetically bouncing off the walls.

Out came my camera. Almost immediately this guy stepped in front of me.

"Are you with the news service?" said Daniel Levin, who later gave me a business card identifying him as COO of Lowell's company.

When asked why he was blocking the video shot, Levin said: "Because we don't allow people just to go and shoot people."

When I identified myself, he backed away, realizing I was Lowell's interviewer.

So this is how Levin protects the TV and radio designer from the public? A couple of my fine-living colleagues didn't recognize Lowell by name or face; he's not exactly the Tom Cruise of the design world. I thanked Levin for giving me something interesting to shoot.

I was just listening, intently. Lowell stopped talking and said something like, Aren't you going to write any of this down?

I told him I let my camera do the documenting, turned it back on and videotaped him. I would love to hear your speculation about Lowell's interesting body language on the video that can be seen at startribune.com/cj.

My final question to Lowell was about how he was so unlike his TV persona. There are "a lot of sides to me," he said, adding with a laugh, "We've been on television a long time and the older you get, the more you conserve your energy."

Job prod from Mom KTLK-FM's former talker John Hines has a better understanding than does his mom, Charlotte, of why he hasn't landed another job.

"My mom says, Well, you shouldn't have any trouble finding a job, Johnny," Hines said, sounding, I guess, like his mom. "I said, 'Mom, do this when you get home. Turn your radio on and dial slowly back and forth across all the stations. You'll notice that somebody's on all the stations. There are not any dead spots; there are a limited number of positions.'"

Good taste in fish Sheryl Lee Ralph left the Twin Cities as a fan of walleye.

I had lunch Thursday with Ralph, and her assistant, Scott Hamilton, at the downtown Minneapolis Marriott. Ralph, "Moesha's" momma and Broadway's original "Dreamgirl," was in the metro to perform her one-woman show, "Sometimes I Cry," at Shiloh Temple Church, as one of the celebrity spokespeople for National Black HIV/AIDS Awareness Day.

"The food was great," she said after we ate at Northern Shores Grille. "That walleye, the fish that you have here in this state -- I loved it. That's my new favorite fish."

There was, however, a problem with the Grille's flatware. "You have to be alien; your fingers have to be real, real long" to use those utensils, she said.

Marriott senior catering sales manager Eric Plotner said, "We're gonna work on it." Another restaurant staffer said they do have regular forks and knives they bring to patrons who don't like the stylish super-long ones.

Nothing puts her in a better state of mind than talking about her husband of five years, Pennsylvania state Sen. Vincent Hughes. At startribune.com/cj there is video of Ralph telling a cute story about an engagement/Valentine's Day prank Hughes played on her for nicknaming him "Frosted Flakes."

When asked how Hughes was coming with her directive "Baby, text me like the mayor of Detroit," Ralph said, "Baby, he's practicing."