Welcome to the fourth edition of My “Blonde” Problems. Now before you all start hating on me I must admit that I am a natural blonde. I colored my hair black several years ago because I wanted to be taken more seriously. As you can probably tell from that statement alone, as soon as I open my mouth to speak I tend to ruin the façade almost immediately! These problems that I speak of are the type of problems that only happen to me…or so it seems. If you are a blonde too, you can probably agree. Here are my “blonde” problems from the archives because I didn’t really do anything too terribly "blonde” this week! Yay Me!!
~ My First "Blonde" Problem This Week ~
This “blonde” problem occurred about 11 years ago, give or take a few months, when this city girl relocated to rural Iowa. We are talking the middle of nowhere, farming community, town of 600, rural Iowa. I have lived in nothing but BIG cities my whole life and A LOT confused me when I first moved there...it really was culture shock for me. But nothing confused me or left me more perplexed as much as the “elevator” located at the end of Main Street.
At the edge of town stood this rather tall “elevator” in the middle of an empty field. I really wanted to know more about it as it just appeared abandoned or cast aside. So, I finally gathered up the nerve, several months later, to ask our group of friends about this “elevator.” It basically went like this, trust me I will NEVER forget it as long as I live!
During a quiet lull in the conversation I kind of just randomly blurted out, something I tend to do often, “What is the story behind the “elevator” at the edge of town?” After an awkward glance from a friend he replied with a laugh, “What do you mean the story? It’s an elevator.”
Thinking I just needed to explain myself and thoughts a little better I followed with, “I mean where did the building go?” Everyone stopped talking and moving and just stared at me in silence! “You know, the building that went with the elevator…it must have been a pretty big building.”
Still, just staring at me in silence, for what seemed like forever while they all wrapped their heads around what I had said, they now erupted into laughter. Someone eventually, still laughing and barely able to speak uttered, “It’s a grain elevator.” To which my reply was, “A what?”
Not much more of a description was given to this really confused city girl so I waited until Monday and told my story to the babysitter, who of course laughed hysterically. She did understand why I thought a building would have been there at one time though. She kindly explained to me that it was a place the farmers in a co-op stored corn or soybean until prices were right to sell, etc.
Finally, something that made sense about this curious “elevator.” I’m assuming to this day that she told me the truth because I didn’t dare ask another sole about it as I never lived the first round of questioning down. Hmmm…I should probably Google that now that I think about it...below is the definition I found!
~ My Second "Blonde" Problem This Week ~
My next “blonde” problem occurred around the same timeframe there in Iowa. Keep in mind now that it DOES NOT snow in Phoenix, Arizona, yet the cold weather always makes me think of this story. It also reminds me how thankful I am to be living back in the desert! My first winter in Iowa was a great, BIG learning experience for me to say the least! You see, my “blonde” problem occurred every single morning for at least a week straight! AND it was part of our morning routine...the most important part!
I had learned the hard way...the very hard way, that I needed to start the car and leave it running for at least 20 minutes before putting myself and two toddlers inside of it. (We won't even go there!) Not to mention the car didn’t want to move otherwise. The temperatures with the wind chill were at 32° below zero…I didn’t even know how I was moving in the horribly cold temperatures.
So every morning during our busy routine I would bundle up with gloves, a scarf, snow boots, a beanie, and a very warm snowboarding jacket and head out to start the car…and every morning I wound up laying underneath my car, a teal, Pontiac Grand Am.
It was like clockwork and little did I know my next door neighbors drank their morning coffee and laughed at the “dumb blonde” trying to get into her car out their kitchen window. I tried to balance, stand, breathe, and DO just about everything differently but I’ll be damned…I still wound up underneath that car. It happened really, really quickly too so I didn’t even know what was happening and poof I was under the car.
Well bless my neighbor’s heart because that Friday morning before I made it outside he put down some salt so I wouldn't fall again. Here I was thinking I finally got the hang of the whole ice and car door dilemma…nope not so much. The very next day, Saturday, they had to come and admit they laughed at me and felt really bad about it. Then told me how neither of them wanted to see me fall and hit my head again so he put down salt next to my car door before I came out to ensure I wouldn't fall again.
They even brought me a tub of it to keep in my trunk and a beautiful friendship was made…writing this makes me miss them dearly as it has been almost eight years now that I left. Thank you Don and Carol O’Connor for being great neighbors and friends. Much love, fond memories, and warm thoughts!
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