I was priveledged enough to witness a real life occurance of irony the other day. I saw a driver's ed car cut off a truck on the highway, and the teacher was driving. Then, when the truck tried to get around the driver's ed car, she did it again.
This followed the almost surreal purchase of two pairs of shoes for PHF. He only buys at Nordstroms cuz he's, according to him, "difficult to fit" and they carry "all the sizes". All I know is that the salespeople there don't snicker when he does all these basketball moves in their $120 shoes, bouncing around on his toes and walking all over the damned store. He expects that even his most dressy shoes feel like well-worn flip flops. (Except he doesn't wear flip flops cuz they're too flippy and he doesn't like that thing between his toes. Freakin' wimp.) He asks me how I buy so many shoes. Well, for one, I'm not so goddamned picky. Besides, I'm a chic. It's my perrogative. And yeah, I'm mad, and no, I'm not going to tell you why.
Baby Greggy is a baby no more. He's been legal to smoke, carry firearms, vote, kill people in war, and drive for awhile now, but now he can drink. Well, he always could drink--now he can go in bars and do it. And clubs, even. Woo hoo. Bars are special places. May he enjoy many years in one.
Ok, that came out wrong, but you get what I mean.
Saturday night we went to the Big City (Denver) to party and stay the night, and we had stupid fun. We went to a tent party where the Indulgers played. They were quite enlivened by new tunes off their upcoming album, and Damien read lyrics off a creased paper which fluttered the the floor to the fading strains of the violin after each song. My friend Lynn was there, serving beer for some charity, and she had several of her college students with her. One got busted for drinking beer with his uniform (a nondescript t-shirt) on, and he was escorted out by police, no less. They didn't even let him finish his fish and chips. But it's ok, Lynn saved them for him and was going to give them back to him in class on Monday.
Lynn also offered me green beads if I'd flash, right in front of the dad of one of the college kids. (I read his mind at that moment--"this is what I'm paying for??"). It's a standing joke between us because one time a couple of guys at the Lariat asked me if I'd flash them, and I said I only show for beads. They were so drunk they didn't see the beads hanging right behind them.
I admire Lynn. She's a journalist with great stories and we laugh and laugh when we're together. We share a sense of humor and adventure that's too hard to come by these days. I appreciate how she knows nearly everyone, and she makes it her business to meet those she doesn't. She appreciates how I get mistaken for strippers in strip joints, frequently embarrass myself in front of famous authors, and that I write all the time.
Some people make us the best of who we are. Find them and don't lose them. No irony in that, just good sense.