Dear Frannie Friday--Stories of Irony

I've mentioned it on here before: I HAAAAATE flying.  It seriously freaks me out.  And every time I get on a plane, I think I am going to surely die.  And thus, I think of that line in that Alanis Morissette song, Ironic, that reads:

Mr. Play It Safe was afraid to fly
He packed his suitcase and kissed his kids goodbye
He waited his whole damn life to take that flight
And as the plane crashed down he thought
"Well isn't this nice..."

 Ironically, this song has been studied and it is has been found that not one of the scenarios in this song are actually ironic.  A song about irony that does not contain any actual irony.  Isn't that ironic?  #somethingforyourbackpocket

Anywho, I have had many random stories of strange irony in my life.  So before I die fly out to Vegas, I am going to share them with you:

Baby Teeth

Something really weird that Patrick and I both share:  we both have a baby tooth that we have never lost that is in the exact same spot in our mouth.

 The Shane Tape 

Speaking of romantic (or in this case, not so much) ironies, one time I was dating this guy.  He was nice and all, but there was something about him, I couldn't put my finger on it, that gave me a bit of a cautious vibe.  We dated for a few weeks and I figured that it was just my nerves about dating again (I had just gotten out of a long term and very abusive relationship) and I would just let it go unless something happened to validate my weird gut feeling.

I had saved up to get Kaden a TV/VCR combo (yeah, it was that long ago) for his room and we finally got enough money so I went out to get one.  The one that I bought at KMart was completely new, in the box, taped up perfectly and never been used.  Or so I thought.  We got home and I set it all up for him and went to put a tape in for him to watch and it wouldn't go in.  Come to find out, there was already a tape in there.  What tape was it?  Shane.  That's right.  A 1953 old western film that no one on the planet has ever, ever, ever heard of--let alone watched, randomly stuck in a brand new TV/VCR combo.  The guy that I was dating--what was his name?  Shane.  

We broke up immediately and I returned the TV/VCR.

Cousins and I Didn't Know it

My very best friend from seventh grade until I was a senior in high school was Jessica.  Even after I moved 40 miles away, we still remained very close friends who saw each other on a regular basis.  Unfortunately, when I was 18 and very newly pregnant with Kaden, her mom--a very vibrant, sweet and fun loving woman--passed away unexpectedly.  It was extremely sad.  Of course, I was going to the funeral as was my mom, who had also been quite fond of Jessica's mother.  

As we show up to the church, all of a sudden my mom spots a cousin.  And another.  And another.  It never occurred to me before but Jessica's mom's last name was the same as some of my mom's cousins.  It turns out, we are distant cousins and I had no idea.

Brother and Sister and Didn't Know it

On the subject of cousins, I only have three cousins on my mom's side--Kris, Sarah and Keith.  Kris was born when my uncle was really young and not ready to be a father.  He ended up being adopted by his stepfather (his mother stayed in the picture).  Even though my Grandmother insisted that she stay in his life with birthday cards and gifts and the like, we hadn't really met him ever.  We just knew about him.  And that went for his sister and brother as well--Sarah and Keith knew they had an older brother but never had met him.  Even though Kris, Sarah and Keith were all born in a different city, they all three ended up living in a very small town, Morrison, Colorado at some point in their lives.  

One day Sarah was playing at a park with friends.  One of her friends spotted a group of older boys, one of which she knew.  So the groups conjoined and started talking.  And, as it came up, my cousin Sarah realized that she was talking to her brother, Kris.  They now see each other regularly.

Freaking weird, right?

Grandpa's Funeral

My dad's dad was from a really, really, really small mountain town in Montana.  When he died (hours before Conner was born) in April, it was expected.  His kidneys had been failing and we all knew it was one of those "any moment" kind of scenarios.  He had told my dad and his three brothers that he wanted a party, not a funeral, up in his hometown on his birthday in July.  So when he passed away, plans were made to have him cremated and have the whole family up to that small town in Montana for a party/service.

It was seriously one of the most memorable services and times in my life.  All of my cousins and uncles (no aunts) were there--many of whom I had not seen in years and years.  

My sister and I had not made any lodging plans or reservations (natch), so one day we were driving everywhere looking for a place to stay.  In Montana, it is small town after small town and we were getting desperate.  Finally, we found a really small motel that had two available rooms.  We went to the front desk to get directions to the town for my Grandpa's service when all from very minimal small talk, the front desk/owner of the motel asked us if we were here for the service of John Halvorson.  We said we were and she revealed that she, her late husband and my grandparents (who divorced when my dad and uncles were very young) used to be very good friends.  

She ended up inviting us back to her home/the back of the front office of the motel and showing us very old projection movies and photos of my grandparents, my dad and my uncles from the 60's and 70's.  It was the most amazing random encounter.

Never underestimate your ability to find irony in your own life.  It really is a small, small world.

Black Lace Skirt-Rue 21, gifted

Brown and Black Striped Tank-thrifted

Booties-Ralph Lauren, thrifted

Necklace-vintage from Grandma

Earrings-DIY and gifted