Being Blond

it's not easy being blond. Well, once you get past the sexist insults and puerile innuendo, I'm actually kind of glad I can fall back on it.

Before the blond jokes started I had nothing to blame my absentmindedness on. Now, when I'm deep in thought, trying to figure out how to revamp the healthcare system, or find new uses for Bucky Fuller's geodesic dome, and I do something like, say, lock my keys in the car, I can throw up my hands and blame it on being blond.

I'd rather have people thinking I lost my focus because I was worried about what nail polish I was going to choose for my manicure, rather than what was really distracting me -- figuring out the G-forces on my underwire bra in the third turn at the Indy 500.

People seem to feel more comfortable with me when I fit into a cubby hole they have handy. I'm blond, so I must like purple. I began my blondness after forty, so I was imprinted on reds to that point. Lately I do find that purplish red is becoming a favorite though . 

I'm blond, so I must shop at Victoria's Secret. You'd think so, judging from the hat I have on in my picture over there. But I only shop there for my daughters, both of whom have dark hair. I'm a TJ Maxx girl myself. 

I'm blond, so I must like to party. Okay, you got me. I'm hooked on cake and ice cream.     

Actually, the reason for all this philosophy is that I really locked my keys in my car today. Despite all the preventions in place to keep me from doing that.

There is a very loud buzzer that rings when I open the door with the keys in the ignition, so you might think I could hear it.  But I didn't.  I was re-structuring the World Bank in my head and didn't notice the noise. Jeeps treat you like an adult. They think you're smart enough to know what all that buzzing means. But, as we've established, I'm blond, remember?

Now, my old Audi -- that car wouldn't let the door close at all if the key was inside.  And I can't tell you the number of times I forgot about this feature and almost broke the door trying toget it shut.  Blond.

Okay, the truth about today is I had my cell phone in my pocket and thought the ear piece was my car key.   I could have checked by taking it out of my pocket, but NOOOOOO.  That would have been too easy.

So the key was left in the ignition and the car is still parked in the parking lot of the grocery store.  I hope it's there tomorrow. The police couldn't open it with their thingy that does that sort of stuff.  And I couldn't find my spare key at the house, after taking a cab home.  And the after hours locksmith charges a minimum of $140 dollars to get into the car.

At least I'll have plenty of time to contemplate the nature of the universe in the meanwhile. 

After I do my roots.