Adjusting to Life

I've been an Alaskan resident for the past 2.5 months. May I say that life is different here? Sure, we still drive cars and not dog sleds; we live in homes and not igloos; I've never had an opportunity to eat whale meat; and they are just as panicked here about the swine flu as is the lower 48.

However.....

Every home either has a metal roof (I am living in a rain forest) or moss growing on its roof.

There are barely any heat pumps and almost every home has a large oil tank sitting outside for heat.

Girls still wear dresses to school but they are accompanied by pants underneath as well as rain boots.

My children have to walk to school on the main street and not the side streets as there have been bear sightings.

Every one owns rain gear.

Summer ended August first and, if the crispness in the air this morning was any indication, winter will be here in another month or so.

It rains. Oh, how it rains. I always used to say that Western Oregon didn't get enough rain and I have loved having more, but I had definitely forgotten the pervasive dampness and general overcast/drizzly days that are a normal occurrence.

Church is a little difference. We had our stake conference yesterday (a stake is a group of wards/congregations). Instead of just having a building FULL of people, we had a building full of people plus phone/internet connections to the outlying wards (Craig; Ketchikan; Whitehorse, YT, Canada; Gustavus; Sitka; etc.) Our chapel has two hardwired video cameras and its own A/V booth. I had forgotten how difficult it can be to arrange events with people scattered about and not connected by roadways.

"A Chicken in Every Pot" is translated here as "A Boat in Every Driveway." Seriously. Everyone has a boat. Which is great for our business, but makes hearing others' anecdotes a bit different than down south.

There are fish and crab every where. Spawned salmon washed up on the beach with their eyes plucked out. (Apparently it's the local birds' favorite.) Customers have brought us salmon, crab and halibut by the garbage bag fulls. (I have eaten so much crab that we have had to throw away leftovers as they didn't get eaten in time.) Not that I'm complaining, mind you, but when we went out to dinner the other night, I didn't order seafood and for the first time it had nothing to do with the cost.

10 miles is a long, long way to drive. Everyone avoids having to do so at all costs.

I'm thinking about buying stock in hot cocoa. Or maybe I should start up one of those MM companies so I can buy the cocoa really cheap. And soup. Because I seem to be cold all. the. time. My friends say I'll adjust but my heart tells me, "But I look at the calendar and I KNOW it's still supposed to be summer!"

The biggest change for me is the lack of friends (I have two) and even with the friends I have, lack of time to see them. I miss going to play groups and all those wonderful things that keep me in touch with the women in my life. I like working (for the most part) with my husband and dad, but there is something decidedly missing when you are surrounded by only men or children all the time.

The other problem is that we're still living with my dad in his tumbling down home. My concerns over safety are in the back of my head but the building's survived this long, I've gotten immune to the random inclines (the foundation is sinking) and just consider it to a good walking work out. However, my bedroom is separated from my dad's bedroom by a small, defunct bathroom. And, well, (cough) there are just somethings that should be heard by parents and children. Ever. But I'm afraid to ask if there's an issue. Ignorance is bliss.