Wrong Numbers

I never cease to be amused at the randomness of life. As a child, I was amused with the fact that our home phone number was only a few digits off from both a bank and a pizza place. This led to many awkward and confusing conversations with strangers that I have only come to appreciate later in life.

Recently, while walking my dog in the blistering cold, I felt my phone vibrate, indicating that a message is awaiting my response. Expecting to see a message from one of my admirers, I was instead confronted with a text from an anonymous number. The following is the conversation:

"Your mom just won a hot dog cooker at the company party!"

Confused and suspecting a nerdy 'mom' joke, I replied, "Um... who is this?"

"Well, who is this?" came the reply.

"This is Staci."

"Oh, I'm sorry, I must have got the wrong number from my friend."

"It's ok, although my mom will be disappointed."

"Didn't mean to bring her hopes up."

"I think she'll be ok."

"Glad to hear it, have a good night."

"You too."

I will probably never know who my anonymous texter was but I'm still pretty sure someone owes someone a hot dog cooker.

I'm divorced

So I have finally left all efforts of achieving normal socialization and succeeding in real relationships, thus the giving into the "blog train." While there are some who gather in these blogspots to contemplate life's mysteries, I merely come to add cynicism and my own failed efforts at introspection. In truth, the driving force behind this decision was the many complaints at how little even my family seems to know about me. Well, you asked for it...

To kick off my blog, I offer a recent event which has left me with a frustrated sort of curiosity. Recently, the weather in Southeast Idaho turned to devastating lows, reaching to -30 degrees! Sans car on one of these particularly cold days I called my brother and asked him to do me a favor and pick me up. Much to my surprise at 4:30pm, my sister-in-law's brother, Steve pulled up in his little white Volkswagen. I didn't give much thought to this, particularly as Steve is engaged and poses no threat to me whatsoever.

A few days later while walking the dogs, my sister-in-law, Kelly, and I were chatting about all things random when Kelly mentioned the events leading up to my ride in Steve's Volkswagen. Basically, my brother called his wife and Kelly then had this conversation with Steve:

"Steve, can you pick up Staci from work today?"

"Okay... isn't she divorced?"

Shocked and a bit confused, Kelly came back with, "No, she's your age Steve. Her and Bryan are twins."

To which Steve responded, "Oh, I thought she had been married."


Responses to this tale have ranged from hysterical laughter to shocked disgust. My favorite response was coming home from work after recounting this tale to my mother to find my dad reading the paper. I said, "Hi Dad." He said, "I hear you're divorced."

While I have enjoyed my own laughs at this strange reaction to the task of merely picking me up from work, I am still confused by Steve's assumption. Is there a certain air people carry who have been wounded by the marital entanglement that I somehow resemble? How much older do I look than my twin brother? Are engaged people not allowed to pick up divorced people from work? Most importantly, have I missed a vital part of my socialization process that may help me understand this?

For now, lesson learned: walk home next time.