Alaska, you know I love you, but sometimes you're just weird - posted at 02:29

Hopefully by now it is painfully apparent that I am in love with living in Alaska. From my sidebar-bio in which I proudly proclaim myself an 'ecstatic Alaskan' to lens which is rapidly filling with Alaska shots to a few of the many new opportunities that living here has offered me that I have written about here, the evidence none-too-quietly shows that I am the pea and Alaska the pod.

Sure, there are certain quirks about living here, like no longer being able to navigate by the sun (in winter it rises in the south, skims across the horizon, and sets four hours later in, well, the south, and in the summer it rises in the north, makes a wide arc around the sky and twenty hours later sets in, well, the north) or sixty-degree high temperatures in July and August (a great selling point when your relatives in Texas are cooking in the midst of a streak of thirty consecutive days of 100+-degree temperatures), but by and large these are easy to forgive. However, the latest quirk has just about broken my brain.

Ok. It's August Late August, mind you, but two weeks ago it was mid-August, and two weeks ago is when this, this aberration, this abomination decided to do something like divide by zero and all other such unnatural things. I have not the words to accurately express the sight that so discombobulated me, so I'll let a photo do the talking:

As seen from my front porch: this snow showed up in mid-August. That's weird (click for an expanded field of view).

That's right -- snow. In August on what was previously a naked rock mountain mere days ago. Ok, sure, it's not called snow per se -- it's given the poetic honorific termination dust. This must be short for "Harbinger-of-Summer's-Termination dust" because really, it serves to remind you that the summer is on its way out. It's being let go, downsized, it's obsolete, no longer the hot new thing in town. It causes a sense of frenetic panic to set in because you know that summer's days are numbered and you worry that you've haven't fully enjoyed the beautiful, I mean truly breathtaking, Alaska summer days, and you remember and regret every single day that you didn't take full advantage of what you were given by this awesome state.

I think that Catholic parents who have formidable guilt-tripping skills must have learned them from this particular type of precipitation.

Now if you'll excuse me, I must go sleep so that I can wake up early enough to go for one of the season's lasts runs on what I hope will be a beautiful, classic Alaska summer day.

Jared commented:

...When I saw the title, I thought you were going to talk about how weird Alaskans are. Cuz they are!

Whenever you watch America's Most Wanted or A Current Affair you'll notice that the suspect is "believed to be living in Alaska." When Chrissa and I lived there we watched those shows and watched for our neighbors.

You know it's better than Texas, though. I'm sure your camera is getting a lot more use.

Jitterbean Girl commented:

Yeah, some Alaskans are tres weird. I've noticed that when in Alaska airports, one will always find a box done up with duct tape passing for luggage. You'll probably see multiple coolers on the conveyer belt as well.

If I was a criminal I would so hide here -- there's so much space to hide out at. Just build a cabin in the woods, live off the land, and remain a fugitive forever!

Ah yes, you hit the nail on the head with the 'better than Texas' statement. I saw a shirt at the state fair that I really wanted that said "Let's cut Alaska in half an make Texas the third biggest state!" I would have gotten it if they had it left in any sizes smaller than XXXL.

Jared commented:

Alaskans have this silly kind of pride. When we were in Juneau I happened to mention I thought one of their radio stations was canned and happened to mention it. Someone blurted at me: "Why don't you go back to UTAH if it's so much better there!"

It was like I had sworn at their grandma or something.

Same thing with Texans: they are so proud of their desert wasteland...

And a friend of ours there, a born-and-raised Texan, told us that that really happened: Texans wanted AK cut in half when they were going to make it a state...and then they realized better to be the 2nd biggest state instead of the 3rd.

Now I'm in normal Ohio, where no one has a strange sense of state pride.

Jitterbean Girl commented:

The thing that irritated me about Texans' pride is the fact that they really have nothing to be so proud of -- as you said, it's a desert wasteland. At least I can understand why Alaskans (myself included) are proud of their state. It's hard not to be proud when you live in one of the most beautiful and rugged places in the United States. This is one of the few places I've lived where you can actually, well, live. Of course, this statement makes perfect sense to me, but if you need some edification let me know :)