The time I shared an elevator ride

Construction sites are scary. Every time I drive under the mess of metal and concrete that will one day become the new light rail station in Northgate, I feel a tiny bit of relief when nothing falls on me. In my defense, I was traumatized when the kid gets crushed by a windowpane in Final Destination 2. While we’re on the topic, another character in the movie died in an elevator. This brings me to my highly anticipated first elevator conversation blog entry. Yay!

The office I work in is located on the eighth floor of a building with…lots more floors above mine. Yes that is an official way to measure the height of a building. You can also estimate its altitude by how many elevators it has. This one has four wonderful concrete shafts perfect for isolating strangers in small places, thus soliciting so many awkward Seattle freeze moments. To anyone who may have pulled an Ant-Man and became a fly on the wall, I hope you took a video of this particular elevator ride. That’s right, the elevator we took was a working construction zone, complete with dust and unfinished walls. So take my fear of construction zones, mix in my fear of confined spaces, and add 6 other people to make it cozy, and then I will need those deep breathing exercises people use to calm down. Thankfully I didn’t go too far into the rabbit hole before one of my fellow elevator residents broke the silence with “why aren’t the walls done?” Its part of the construction that has taken over the 8th floor…is what I should have said. Instead, I said “it smells good.” I meant the wood boards that were serving as temporary elevator walls smelled good, of course. Everyone was too busy looking at their phones to really notice my brilliant ramblings thus proving the Seattle freeze actually has an upside. So the big awkward elevator ride, my Seattle freeze white whale, happened. And it was fine. And I wasn’t swallowed by a giant mammal so that’s a win.

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The time I wasn’t bored at the Fred Meyer check-out

I love all things pumpkin spice. Well except those fake scented candles. They give me a migraine. Once fall begins, I make it my personal mission to eat as many pumpkin flavored things as possible. This is my first October since going gluten-free which has put a real damper on my pumpkin pie consumption. So when the cashier at Fred Meyer asked me if I found everything okay, I mentioned I was bummed but not surprised that they don’t have any gluten-free pumpkin pie. I expected some sort of negative reaction since I didn’t respond with the traditional “yes.” Instead, she told me how complicated it is to safely operate a gluten-free kitchen. Turns out, she grew up working in the bakery her parents owned.

A look of pleasant nostalgia lit up her face as she talked about getting up at 4am during the Missouri summers to start prepping the dough. I should have known by how friendly she was that she wasn’t a Seattle native. During her prep time, flour soared freely around the kitchen, giving the illusion of a light snowstorm. While a little wheat flour wouldn’t hurt me, it could cause harm for celiac patients. In order for her parents to provide gluten-free options they would need a second kitchen stocked with its own dedicated pans and utensils. For small business owners like her parents, this just wasn’t feasible. This was brand new information for me. I’ve had flour poof and spill a little on my kitchen counter while baking, but I had no idea it could fly. Before leaving, I thanked her for teaching me more about being gluten-free. She thanked me for indulging her trip down memory lane. I bet she gets so bored when all the Seattleites fail to acknowledge her ability to speak while she bags their groceries.