Once upon a time, in a far away land covered in ice and snow...

I've been beating myself up for four days now about how to write this. I'm not sure I can do it justice, but I'm going to try.

My very first Military Ball...St. Barbara's Day Ball, to be exact (St. Barbara is the Patron Saint of anyone who deals with explosives).  Preparing for a ball is fun and girly...but the -40 degree temperatures make it...interesting.  I tromped out of the house in my red satin, knee length dress, heels in my hand, wearing knee high snow boots.  Minimal skin exposure here is a must....frostbite will happen in the blink of an eye...and yes, Nate made me wear my boots all the way inside (He took them back to the car after I changed).

Let me take a moment to say how much I love it when Nate wears his Class As. He hates them. I don't think he realizes how hot he looks in them. There is something that tugs at my heart when he puts on his Class As...I'm sure most of it is pride and tradition (I'm so very proud of him), but something about his Class As takes me back to another era... More about that in a bit.

Ok, so, we get to the ball. Before we can be seated, we go through a greeting line where I am introduced to all of the higher ranking men and their wives. It felt a lot like a very formal receiving line at a wedding, but usually at a wedding you know at least one person in the line.  The only person in the line that I had even spoken to was Nate's Battery Commander, and that was when I pinned Nate for his promotion and he told me to punch my husband. In the chest. Hard. I kissed him instead....I don't need to punch Nate for him to be afraid of me. He knows that my authority super cedes his rank. ;) LOL

We went into the ballroom and found our seats. The tables were lovely; red and gold with candles and wreaths. We each had a wooden coaster from The Great Alaskan Bowl Company, emblazoned with the 2-8 Field Artillery crest.

The ballroom itself was flanked in flags, the huge chandeliers were dim, and the Army band was set up at the front of the room. Each member of the band had their own waist-high wooden music podium with their logo on the front. As they started to play, I was swept back to somewhere in the 1940s...when brass heavy Military bands played for soldiers dancing cheek to cheek with their sweethearts before heading off to war. It was a very real and nostalgic moment for me, and as I looked at Nate, standing there in his Class As, talking to his Staff Sergeant, I got a little misty-eyed.  It was one of those moments when all of your senses are aligned...when you are in tune with your surroundings and know that, in this moment, you are exactly where you are meant to be. I wanted to hold onto it forever.

After dinner, they rolled out the tradition and history of the Field Artillery. This is the part that Nate and I both love. They told us the story of St. Barbara, the history of Molly Pitcher and other women who had such a large impact on the success of Field Artillery.  The women of the Field Artillery stepped in to take the place of their fallen Heroes and husbands in the heat of battle. They are Heroes in their own right. They made a difference.

We danced. We laughed and mingled. Many of the NCOs and Officers I've heard so much about came up to me and introduced themselves, telling me what a pleasure it is to work with my husband.  My heart swelled with pride to be on his arm, as it always does, but these men went out of their way to tell me how much they appreciate my husband and how glad they were to meet me. They didn't tell me their rank, although Nate told me later, they introduced themselves by first name, shook my hand and looked me in the eye. They were genuine, they care about their soldiers, and it made me feel much better about Nate's deployment.

When the clock struck midnight, we decided that it was time to trade in my glass slippers for snow boots and head back home from the palace.  It was a wonderful night...one I'll never forget, but I don't need a ball to feel like a princess...Nate makes me feel like a princess every single day...

Shout-out to my 2-8 boys...

Last night at the ball we had a guest speaker who is the Brigade Colonel.  He is an Infantryman. In his speech he included the Genesis of Field Artillery (see if you catch the irony)...so... as a salute to the guys in 2-8 FA, I'm posting it here. On a side note, all the FA guys loved this, and the hand full of Calvary guys that were there loved it for about 20 seconds. Wink.

Genesis of the Field Artillery

In the beginning, there was chaos, and the chaos was the infantry, the queen of battle. However, the queen was alone. And fear was with the infantry, so she cried out unto the Lord saying, "Lord save me for I am afraid!"

And the Lord heard her grunts and set some of the infantry on beasts of burden, and these he called the cavalry, and the cavalry became armor. And when the Lord saw what he had done, he laughed saying, "Well, you can't win them all!"

As time passed, the infantry and the armor again cried out unto the Lord saying, "Lord save us, for we are afraid." The Lord heard their cries and decided to end their weepings.

The Lord said unto them, "I shall send unto you a race of men noble in heart and spirit." And the Lord created the Field Artillery, and named them the King of Battle.

And the Lord said unto the infantry and armor, "When it is dark, the King shall light your way. And when you need smoke, there shall be smoke, and when you need it to rain down death and destruction upon the enemy, you shall have it."

And the Lord gave the King big guns and big bullets. And the infantry and armor were jealous, for they had not. And the Lord gave the artillery rockets and missiles and nukes. And when the infantry and armor saw this, they fell to their knees in awesome wonder, saying surely the Lord is on the side of the artillery, the King of Battle.

And the Lord said, "CHECK!"

And abideth infantry, armor and artillery, but the greatest of these is the artillery.


2-8 FA



What's He Talking About????

Soldiers have a tendency to speak in code.  They get so used to everyone around them knowing exactly what they are talking about, they forget that the rest of us can get a little lost in the abbreviations, military time, acronyms and gibberish.  I swear that I didn't know any one's first name for two months...and until I became an Army wife, I was horrible with last names. Not so much now.

I'm lucky enough that Nate understands that I need a certain amount of control over my surroundings. When we got married, I understood that it meant that I was giving up a ton of that control to the Army.  I have regained some of it through knowledge about my surroundings and Nate's job.  My husband is very patient with me. I ask a lot of questions. If I don't initially get an answer that I fully understand, I ask in a different way until I do understand. He always answers my questions. He makes sure I'm informed and knowledgeable because he knows it decreases my anxiety. In other words, I'm less likely to go off the deep end if I can plan or at least know what's going to happen next.

Nate has even gone so far as to sit down with me and make a flow chart of his battery, complete with rank and a few names, so I can quickly refer back to it if necessary.  We keep it on the fridge for quick reference.  It's funny how many soldiers see it and laugh...and then their wives see it and say "Wow! That's awesome! That soooo would have helped me. Why didn't YOU make me one of those???" 

It's amazing how many wives and girlfriends ask me questions about things that I took for granted. I guess not every husband is as patient as mine...because when I don't know what he's talking about, I stop and make him explain it in 'Stephanie' terms.  I never mind answering questions from other wives or girlfriends...I'm happy to help with what I can because I hate being the one in the dark.

So...for those of you who are afraid to ask, or just want to broaden your knowledge in general, here are a couple of websites that really helped me figure things out when I needed to know immediately and Nate wasn't right beside me...

marriedtothearmy.com  and  armywifenetwork.com

Both sites have very useful information (I used the crap out of the acronym list).

Also, the Army now has a free iPhone app that has been pretty helpful. It contains lots of news and human interest stories, but I use the "more" button the most. There is a wealth of information there, from ranks with names, duties and pics, to pictures and descriptions of weapons and vehicles.  It's pretty great. Probably second most used icon on my phone (after Facebook, of course).

Remember, the more you know about something, the more power you have over it. If you feel like the Military is running your life...read up on it. Get the information. It's out there for your taking and there is no excuse to not feel empowered in your role. There is a reason they call us HH6 (and if you don't know what it means, don't be afraid to look it up).

The FRG Blues

Dear FRG,
I really don't mind going to your meetings. They tend to provide me with useful information such as leave dates and activities. I appreciate that you are trying to help me.  That being said, your guest speakers as of late are absolutely killing me.

Three months ago, we had the woman who talked about the mechanic shop and job postings for an hour. I fell asleep.  Last meeting, you spent two hours telling me about NTC and preparing me for tonight's meeting. Tonight? Tonight there was a woman from the casualties office (I think) showing me flow charts of the paperwork process if something happens to my husband.

I learned absolutely nothing from this woman. I already know that if Nate is injured in combat that I'll get a phone call from his commander. I already know what it means if two men in Class As show up on my doorstep. And yes, it's my worst nightmare, thankyouverymuch.

I don't need to know the qualifications of the men in Class As. I know enough to say that there is no amount of money that you could pay me to deliver their messages. Bless them. That must be the hardest job in the military.

I don't care about the paperwork process of notifying me of these things. If I have to deal with them, I'm not going to stop my tears to ask "did S1 remember to fill out the DA form 2977???" Like it's going to make a bit of difference to me in my pain...

In the future, this woman needs to realize that she's speaking to people facing the very real possibility of losing the person who is sitting beside them. We don't care about her power point...talk to us like we are people. We're scared. Acknowledge that. Then give us the information we need, and only that information. I don't understand your acronyms, and I'm not positive you do either, so stop using them! Talk to us like we are real, and we might listen.

Other than that, the rest of the meeting was great....all five minutes of it. I learned more in that 5 minutes than I did the entire time that chick was blathering.

Sincerely,


***This is more negative than my normal posts, but it was late and I was frustrated. Most of my experiences with the Army are very positive, but this woman was working my nerves and I needed to vent about it. Thanks. :)

How do you measure a year in the life...?

525,600 minutes. How do you measure, measure a year?

As I've mentioned before, it's been a tough year on my family. We've all had to make adjustments, and adjustments to army life are not for the weak. They have to be taken very positively or it could end in disaster for your relationship. I usually think all change is positive. Anything that takes you outside of your comfort zone makes you a stronger person, right?

The day to day life of a military spouse isn't much different than any other spouse. You get up, take care of kids or housework, go to work, fix dinner, spend time with your husband (or wife) watching tv, etc. Your spouse gets up, goes to work, comes home. Sometimes Nate works late, sometimes he gets off early. The early days are a special surprise. The late days are just like for any other job. He's usually home by 6 or 7 those days, but occasionally, it's later (I'm used to working retail...you never get out on time).

Sometimes they go to the field. Think of it as a business trip without a rental car or mints on your pillow. I'll admit that the first time Nate went to the field, I thought I was going to die. It's hard to be away from someone you love, regardless of the length of time, but I have to tell myself that this is the training that will keep him safe while he's away.

The first time Nate went to the field was my first encounter with what I call a one-upper. It was made painfully clear to me that unless I had suffered through childbirth alone during deployment, I had no right to complain. Sorry, but I can miss my husband whenever I'd like. I don't need anyone else to tell me what I'm allowed to feel, and when I voiced my opinion, I was promptly de-friended. Whatever. I don't need negativity in my life. No one has the right to dictate my emotions...and here, where we're all in the same boat, so to speak? Where's the love???

So I guess the main thing that separates military spouses from other spouses is deployment. I cant think of another job that takes your spouse away for up to a year, sends them to a war-zone, and puts their life at risk daily. Length of deployment varies by branch of service and job, but deployment is still deployment. In his current job, Nate's deployments last a year (that's if there are no delays or extensions). And yes, I'm terrified.

I have full confidence in my husband's training, his ability, and his stubbornness. I have no doubt that he will exert every effort to bring his soldiers and himself home. While this is comforting, I still spend time daily swallowing the lump in my throat and trying to push back that fear that always seems to settle in the pit of my stomach.

Do I willingly let him go? Yes. It's his job and I respect that. Will I make myself sick worrying? Most likely. I will be here to love and support him. I'll tell him funny stories about home when I know he's had a bad day. I will be positive.  I'll keep the home fires burning while he's gone, and never forget that he's fighting for my freedom; so that I can live in a country where we have the opportunity to be whatever we want to be. It may, however, take physical force to detach me from him so he can get on the plane. My strength only goes so far.

The Army will take care of me. I'll have my close friends and family for support. Most days I'll be strong, some days I'll break down. There have been military wives for thousands of years....wives who had no communication with their husbands. I am lucky. I have phone and Internet. I can see him and hear his voice. I can dream about him at night. I am lucky. And proud. And blessed with each moment we have together. He is my hero.

525,600 minutes. Measured in love.

Bathtime, Baby!

Sundays are lazy for us. We watch football or NASCAR, play with the pups, play warhammer (that's a whole other topic), or watch movies. Sometimes we give the dogs baths, but today is the dreaded day in the Thornton household. Today is Kahne's haircut day.

Nate loves his fur long, so we let it go as long as we can. He's a yorkie, so he has no undercoat. His fur length serves no purpose for warmth in this weather, so it really doesn't matter if we shave him completely...he's still gonna need a coat.

We try to leave his head and legs long and just trim his body (he kinda looks like a lion), but when they get too long we have issues with snow. I trim him myself because I had a groomer charge me double when he was a pup because he was so squirmy.

During his spa sessions, Kahne brings full meaning to the term Army Brat. He whines, cries, squirms, roots, runs and throws an overall, full-on temper tantrum. And that's before we even get the clippers out.

When the clippers come out of the cabinet, he goes dogatonic. He lays on the floor shaking until we pose him. He won't lift his head. He tucks his tail so tight that trimming it, or anything around it, proves impossible. The saddest part of this is that he is much better than he used to be.

One the trimming is done, bathtime commences. Sometimes I think Kahne was a cat in a former life. I've never seen a dog that hates water the way he does. He coughs and hacks like he's dying...Oh, yeah, and his head is still dry at this point. Drama. Queen.

When the bath is over, the rooting begins. He rolls around on the floor like he's trying to wriggle out of his wet fur. I always get the hair dryer out, but he's so funny, I usually give him a minute or two to try and squirm his way dry.

Once the torture is over, he totally acts like nothing ever happened....just don't mention the word bath...

Kahne's pre-bath head towel. ;)



&

I'll be home for Christmas...if only in my dreams....

This is my first Christmas away from home. For 32 Christmases I've opened presents, waited for Santa and celebrated with my parents. It's going to be tough on all of us. We've been through a lot this year. My grandmother passed away, I moved 3500 miles away from home and we've only been home once to visit. I have a feeling it's going to be a tearful Christmas.

My dad is the toughest man I know. I'd imagine he probably only has two weaknesses...my mom and myself. He's dependable and stubborn and fiercely independent. And I'm just like him.

My mom is the kindest woman you will ever meet. She's gentle and emotional, but has a fire of strength within her that is unimaginable. Sometimes I think I inherited her strength, other times, I'm not so sure. I definitely got her emotion.

I am a dreamer. And a thinker. And a planner. I don't ask for help, even if I need it. I make mistakes, and sometimes I muddle my way through things that could have been avoided all together if I'd just listen. I cry. I yell and scream, and hurt and break down. But I'm a survivor.

Although we may not always see eye to eye, I know my parents love me unconditionally and I will always have a safe place to fall....and I love them. More than they can imagine.

So even though I may not be home for Christmas this year in body. I'll be there in spirit...and in my dreams.

Baby, It's Cold Outside...

My house is warm. Very warm. Occasionally, we even have to open a window to cool off, and this is no small statement when it's 30 below outside.  Nate and I were sitting on the couch tonight, trying to decide what our plans were going to be this Friday evening. The conversation went as follows:

Nate- "What do you want to do tonight?"
Me- "I dunno. What do you want to do?"
Nate- "I dunno. That's why I asked you."
Me- "Do you want to do something out of the house?"
Nate- "Uh uh. It's cold out there."
Me- (Laughing) "It's the warmest day we've had all week! It's only negative 10!"
Nate- "Only.  I think I'll read for a while."
Me- "I'll fix dinner."

I'm fine with this. I'd rather stay in anyway, but we do manage to find entertainment within the house, and by entertainment, I mean the dogs.

It may sound like animal cruelty to some, but if you've never watched a dog go outside to do its business in sub-zero temps...it's a sight to see.  Our dogs are small (8-15 lbs) so they scurry a lot. They run the house, have taken over the bed and pretty much do as they please. Kahne was an only child for four years and lived with his Nana and Poppy (My Mom and Dad) for a few months, so he's definitely the most spoiled dog on the planet. As I'm typing this he is laying beside me, running in his sleep, no doubt chasing that piece of roast beef at Nana's house.

Anyway, the dogs are housetrained (of course...Ick if they weren't) and so we let them into the backyard to go potty.  Last week, during the ice storm, the back steps and sidewalk turned into their own personal skating rink.  They absolutely cracked us up. One would run into the other while sliding down the steps and it would result in a horrendous crash and pile of pups.  It took Sadie all week to get her bearings on the ice. Now that the snow is back on the ground and the temps have dropped, it's like pulling teeth to even get them to go outside.  When we finally force them to go out, they run straight down the steps, potty and come straight back. 

All that being said, Kahne has a ritual.  He cannot simply go outside and poop. He has to dance first. This dance consists of squatting, taking about ten steps to the left, shuffling his feet, ten steps to the right, still shuffling, giving up and taking a lap around the yard, then squatting and repeating the shuffling process.  When he's finally ready, he shuffles forward for about five steps until he's found the perfect spot, then graces us with what we like to call the "stop, pop, and drop."

Since the temps have dropped, Kahne has had to shorten his dance. He has decided that in an effort to spend as little time outside as possible, he will simply not go at all.  My poor child will hold it until he is shaking in order to avoid going out.  Eventually, we have to put his shoes on him so he can go out and dance without freezing his paws off.  Did I mention that he's a little sensitive??  After the dance, we now have to wrap him in a blanket and hold him for 30 mins to an hour...until he feels better...before he will get up and play.  My spoiled child.

All of this has become a source of amusement for us.  Of course, we baby them, but we laugh the entire time. With each new type of weather we rush downstairs in the morning to let them out and see how they will react.  They never disappoint us.

Shocking!

There is no humidity in Alaska. Woohoo! Right???

Not exactly. Like everything in life, it has its drawbacks.  Zero humidity in Alaska is Mother Nature's way of sticking her tongue out at us, and sometimes, you wish that tongue would freeze to a flag pole.

You want mild summers? Check.
No need for air conditioning? Check.
Sub-zero temps that don't feel so bad because it's a dry cold? Check.
Getting shocked everytime you touch ANYTHING? Check....wait, what?

That's right, people. You can't touch a single thing without it resulting in electrocution.

My dad is a general contractor. I can remember him talking to home builders when I was little, and from among these muddled memories, I can pull something about him telling them that it was dry enough when you could walk across the carpet and shock something.  I can remember having friends over when I was little, taking turns running across the carpet and touching the plant, trying to make the biggest cracking sound. Trust me, that ain't got nothin on this nonsense.

The laptop, the dogs, the couch, the remote. After a while your fingertips start to sting and go numb. Ouch!  Nate and I had even began to touch each other on the arm before kissing to keep from zapping our lips! The dogs shock each other. The Christmas tree shocks them....you get the point.

I was at my wits end. Isn't humidity the devil? At home, all we used to say was "Ugh! It's soooo humid!" How could a lack of humidity be causing so much pain???? Baffling.

And then....we got a humidifier. Oh, happy day! I didn't know if it would work, but anything was worth a try. We are now the proud residents of a reduced static home. We know the humidifier needs to be refilled when we hear the first "crack," but the improvement is amazing.

The moral of the story:

If you ever make it to a place with zero humidity, 1. You're going to need a lot of lotion. 2. Buy stock in Static Guard. 3. Get yourself a humidifier. You won't regret it.

Oh, Christmas Tree, Oh, Christmas Tree, please don't fall on my head...

Like most families in the US, we are watching our budget. Considering that we are preparing for the holidays "from scratch" makes this statement all the more interesting. This year, we will be spending our first Christmas together in Alaska, so we both felt it was very important that we try to make it as festive as possible. In other words...a tree was a necessity.

We had no tree. No ornaments. Are you nervous yet? I'm not. It just means I get to make this tree into whatever I want.  My creative juices began to flow... I started planning in September. :)

Nate is in the Army. We live on an Army post. I started researching patriotic Christmas trees because it only made sense to me. What better time?  Most of the trees I found online were tacky...white trees with red and blue lights...and I hate tacky. I was on my own.

Budget conscious does not mean blind to ugly. I was going to have to make my own ornaments. I have complete faith in my crafting ability....as long as I don't have to draw...so I went to Michaels. I started with ribbon. Red and white stripes. Sheer blue with silver polka dots. Good start. Then I moved on to clear glass ornaments and my brain went crazy. Some I swirled with paint...red, white and blue, of course, with silver and gold (might as well cover all the bases), some I painted red and white stripes with blue at the top covered in white stars, the rest I filled with fake snow so they looked like snow globes. On each of these I tied rag ribbons made of ACUs donated from Nate's deployment to Iraq.

I bought wooden stars, painted them patriotic colors, and glued ribbon hangers to their backs.

We went tree shopping. 7 foot, prelit (I hate putting on lights), beautiful. Nate picked out a few glittered ornaments and I grabbed a few red, white and blue poinsettias. We were ready.

After discarding the useless instructions, we began assembling the tree. Nate helped me fluff the branches and I began decorating. As I'm finishing, Nate stops me and says, "the top is crooked." Awesome. The problem is, everytime I try to move a branch, an ornament falls off. :( Buyer beware: do NOT buy the cheap ornament hooks from walmart. They suck. The tree is still crooked...but only from the side view. I'm over playing fetch with falling ornaments.

I'm thrilled with our tree. It's beautiful and uniquely "us." The dogs are also thrilled with the tree. Beneath it is Sadie's favorite place to sit, and they have made a game of hiding under it and then pouncing each other. Yikes. I hold my breath every time it shakes from the scrambling beneath it.

Please, Mr. Tree. Don't fall on me.  Or them. Thanks a bunch.

The Rumor Mill

Every military spouse, child and parent knows the excitement, hope and pain that the rumor mill provides. Growing up in a small town, I was all too familiar with its grasp on everyone I've ever known...but this rumor mill is different. This rumor mill lies to you about when your husband is deploying or coming home. It lies about your time and activities while he's away. It can put you on cloud 9, or tear you apart.

When I first got to Alaska, Nate told me something that I will never forget, and it has served me well..."never believe anything about the Army unless it comes from me, or you see it in writing...and stop watching the news."

I haven't watched the news since. I hear the rumors. Mostly I laugh or roll my eyes. If it seems possible, I ask Nate. The answer is always the same. "No, baby. That's not true." He never gets annoyed at my questions, and I rarely ask anymore. I know the answer.

I don't watch the news because it makes me anxious, and ignoring the rumors takes a lot of worry and stress out of my life. It lets me focus on him while he's here, and making wonderful memories for him to lean on while he's away.  I can honestly say that his one statement has given me a very positive outlook on the time we spend together. There is not a place for negativity in our home, and this is not the time to worry. That time will come soon enough, and before any of us are ready for it.

Love,

The Morning Ritual

I'll be the first to admit that there are days when I'd prefer to say in bed....just pull the pillow over my head and block out the madness for a few more hours. I don't wake up "bright eyed and bushy tailed" and I never have, you can ask my parents. The fact that the sun stays in bed until almost 11am right now isn't making getting up any easier...but I know I must. When I finally coax my feet to hit the floor they carry me straight to the coffee pot. This happens every day.

I, my friends, am a repeat offender.

You would think that having to get up everyday at 5am would exhaust Nate enough to sleep in on the weekends. You would think. The problem lies in the programming. After 4 years of 5am wake-up calls with a year of that being deployment, his body is programmed to get up. It couldn't care less if it's Saturday morning, even if he cares very much.

Everyday, he is up by 7am (at the latest) and I lay in bed arguing with the dogs about it being Saturday, and I don't care if daddy is up, please stop licking my toes and leave me alone. Ok, fine. I'm getting up. Stupid dogs. And straight to the coffee pot I go.

We make an effort not to speak to each other in the mornings. Not speaking before my first cup of coffee makes me much more agreeable for the rest of the day. I try not to talk to him before he has eaten. A discarded cereal bowl usually means I'm good. And heaven forbid we have to go out before coffee and cereal! I shudder for every airline worker who has to deal with us on an early flight. ;)

It's funny to me that the only part of my day when I don't want to talk to him is the first 10 minutes. Maybe I'm subconsciously saving my marriage, lol, but as soon as I get the sleep out of my eyes, there is nowhere else I'd rather be than right here beside him....I'd just prefer we take a nap. :)

Love and Hugs,

Oh, Alaska!

Ive always loved the snow.

I can remember my mom bundling me up and sending me outside to play when I was little. Cover-alls, boots, mittens and hat, with her warm maroon scarf wrapped around my neck, face and head for good measure. Those memories make me smile...and occasionally bring tears to my eyes.
Snow reminds me of warm stoves, baking cookies, snow days, wonderful smells from the kitchen, the Holidays, family.

It's a really good thing I love snow.

As I'm writing, it's negative 30 outside. We have about 8 inches of snow on the ground that has been accumulating for about a month. We would have more, but the majority melted last week when a ton of freezing rain turned the roads to sheets of perfectly deadly ice.  More snow has fallen, so the ice will probably stick around until March at the earliest, where it will be scraped away into the huge gravel and snow piles that tower over every parking lot in Fairbanks. It's awe inspiring the first time you see it...all that snow...

Did I mention that I really like snow?

There are so many things to occupy your time in Alaska...if you are creative and know where to look.  There is a ski resort here on post (I'm horrible at skiing), they also offer tubing and ice skating, but just stepping out your door can be an adventure this time of the year. My next door neighbor spent her morning off work last week sitting at her window with a cup of coffee watching people check their mailboxes....and I was mad that I didn't think of it first! With everything covered in ice, the trek to the mailbox was treacherous at best.  We have all fallen at least once...so it's kind of ok to laugh when someone else bites it.

Anyway, I guess my point is that I am lucky enough to live in one of the most beautiful places on Earth and I intend on making the most of it. I get so tired of people up here complaining about being in Alaska. It's ALASKA! Most people dream of visiting this place, and God has blessed me enough to let me live here for a while...outside of anything I've ever experienced, or will ever experience again. We have 24 hours of daylight in the summer, 24 hours of darkness in the winter. You don't need air conditioning because the summers usually stay around 70 degrees and there is zero humidity! When the leaves on the trees change color...breathtaking. And the cold...You just have to steel yourself and accept that it's part of life here. It really doesn't bother me, but I do love people's reactions to the sub-zero temps. All of these experiences in under a year and I'm stockpiling knowledge that will last me the rest of my life...that will see me through every cold day yet to come...and I'm learning so much about myself, my own inner strength, as each day passes.

Amazing.

Much Love,