I have been accused of acting like a blonde before (Editor’s Note: I told Rosanna the other day that she risks offending every blonde with her “ditzy blonde” references, but I remembered. “Oh, you’re blonde, I guess it’s okay then, you can poke fun at yourself.” Rosanna laughed and agreed. And having met Rosanna in-person on a couple of occasions, I remember her as blonde, but this photo isn’t one I’d exactly call “blonde”, so I changed the headline to “strawberry blonde”…I’ll see what she thinks of that! – Kevin)
The most ditzy thing that I have ever done happened a few weeksago and could have gotten me arrested as a burglar… just when l imagine that am beginning to act like an Intelligent person, I blow my cover…
I did a ridiculous thing last week: I took a trip to Pennsylvania for “no good reason.” I have never done such a thing before. It’s against my nature. I don’t “vacation.” I only take trips for church functions or to give farmer-trainings. If I did vacation, I would do so when I am a month behind on my “To Do” list.. But my life has been so crazy with paperwork for starting up on our feed mill and Butcher Block businesses that I hardly even have time to waste any time! To prove my point I flew to another state, ignoring my suffocating to-do list for five entire days. My friends in Pennsylvania could not understand but I told them I came to prove that I could walk away from my daily problems and deal with th.e consequences later.
I did greatly enjoy immersing myself in someone else’s life and locale, even if it was frigidly cold. My friend Marlene even lent me her vehicle so I could visit another friend at the private school where she is a teacher. When I asked for directions, Marlene assured me it was a simple drive. “Just go up the road, turn left, and then turn right.”
“Draw me a map” I replied. “that’s not simple enough for directionally challenged Rosanna.”
She did and I carefully followed the instructions and arrived at the schoolhouse, although it was a longer drive than I had anticipated. The next day, Marlene drove me to the schoolhouse and we did not take the same route that I had driven, but a shorter one. I said this out-loud and received a look from my friend that communication: “Seriously? How can you possible mess up directions that simple?”
But it is not just driving directions that I am terrible with. The other week I attended a conference in Manhattan, Kansas (the Little Apple, ha-ha). I needed a place to stay the night and another farming friend invited me to stay at her house nearby. She described the house as sitting back from the street and the second house on the block. . Lucinda apparently knew how to deal with folks like me: she drew me a map and then offered to lead me there in her car. We arrived without incident.
As I was rummaging around in my vehicle for my luggage, my hostess went ahead to unlock and light the house. As I entered the house, I noticed that Lucinda must have been worried about her guests getting locked outside, as she had left the keys in the door. I also nearly tripped over several extremely large pairs of men’s basketball shoes at the door and recalled that she had mentioned that an irresponsible college student had spent the night there the evening before.
“Definitely irresponsible” I thought “He left his shoes!”
I didn’t see or hear where my hostess had disappeared to but I had observed the upstairs lights were on, so I presumed she was upstairs making up the beds for us. I set my luggage down in the living room and then decided to go out and help Mary (who was another farmer spending the night there) unload her bags. I retrieved a case from Mary who was still digging around in her car and returned to the house with it. I removed my shoes and wraps and decided to loiter in the living room until my hostess came down from upstairs. I checked out the artwork on the walls and poked my head into the kitchen. Sure enough that college boy even left food on the table! About then I started to worry about Mary. She had still not come in from the car. I poked my head outside the door and observed that she was not at the vehicle. Puzzled, I pulled my head back in and shut the heavy front door with another clunk. And then the thought hit me: “the second house on the block!” I was in the first house!
I had opened and shut that noisy front door four times already. If there was someone in this house they had to know that a stranger was in their living room! I literally jumped into my shoes , threw on my shawl and bonnet and grabbed up all the luggage in my arms as quietly as possible. What if the owner comes round the corner and catches me fleeing out the front door? I closd the noisy door as silently and swiftly as I could, then hot-footed it across the lawn and into the correct house, wide-eyed and sheepish. Mary and Lucinda were standing at the door with phones in their hands preparing to call.
“Where have you been, Rosanna?” they both blurted out.
“Right where you’re thinking I have been! The wrong house!” I fell on the sofa and tried to catch my breath. I don’t know if anyone at that house had seen or heard me, but nether did I stay in town long enough to check the next edition of the Manhattan newspaper. I was just a bit worried that the front page news would proclaim” “Amish Burgles Quiet Neighborhood: this new style of burglar has been reported to wear a long flowing cape and dark head gear. The homeowner reports that he frightened the intruder away before any items were stolen”
Okay, I’m not Amish, but I am blonde, so I can make blonde jokes. And that took the cake. Sometimes taking a trip makes you forget about your problems at home, but other times the trip reminds yout hat you really don’t have may problems home!
Editor’s Note: For newcomers to this column, Rosanna, age 26, is a German Baptist farmer, friend, daughter, writer, teacher. She lives in rural Kansas. German Baptists are a sect similar to the Amish, but use more technology and have different religious roots.