And that's how we got here, people. Birthdays, and cheesecakes, and lactose intolerance.
(And a dinosaur that has 127 blogging years under her belt.)
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Have I ever shared the story about the first time I cried because I lived in Alaska? It's a real doozie.
I wish I could tell you that it was a warranted cry--that I felt lonely, and far away, and stressed out, and missed my family and friends. But that wasn't the reason.
I cried over a ruined dinner.
Living in the interior of Alaska has presented so, so many different challenges for us. Because we knew going into it that it would be lonely, far away, and hard, we decided to live on a military installation. We thought it would be smart to have a built-in community in a place that is usually famous for being people-less. We thought it would be helpful to have stores and emergency supplies close at hand so I wouldn't have to drive an hour through the wilderness in the wintertime any time we needed anything. We thought it would be smart to have the children live close to their schools instead of having to be bussed who-knows-how-long to who-knows-where. And we especially thought it would be smart to try to keep the kids' routines as close to "normal" as we could get them.
I think every family has their own "crazy thing." Maybe you are the all-natural, everything-from-scratch family. Maybe you are the extra-extravagant, everything's-an-extra-special occasion family. We are the extra-busy, nine-hundred-extracurriculars family. My children have a lot of loves and I don't want to lock them into one thing too early---and so I cave and let them do allllll the things.
This is what that looks like in Alaska:
"Hey, super job trying to make your life easier by living on post, Liz, but you're still going to have to drive for hours all over interior Alaska on winter roads that are paved PRIMARILY in ICE AND SNOW PACK, mmkay? Also, enjoy crock-pot dinners several nights a week because, girlfriend, that's the only way y'all will ever eat hot food."
One night, after several hours of running my children hither and thither to their various activities, I came home to discover that the dinner I had prepared for us to eat had never actually been turned on. Yes, the slow cooker had pulled a fast one on me.
Refusing to be defeated so easily, I started doing a mental run through of my options. I could buy a rotisserie chicken from the Commissary (our grocery store.) Oh shoot. Nevermind. It's closed today... I could swing by the Burger King and grab some fast food. Check hours. Nope. Closes at 7p.m. That's lame... Grrr. Go out to eat? Negative. Nasty restaurant on post also closes at 7. Like, WHY EVEN BE A RESTAURANT,THEN?! Gas station? Gas station is still open...
That's when the tears came.
Moments later, my poor husband came in the door and saw me weeping, cursing Alaska and all of its 7 p.m. closing times, saying really weird things like "Don't they know that moms are humans?! Don't they know that sometimes we forget to turn on our Crock-Pots?! Do they expect us to never burn dinners?! Why does Alaska HATE ALL MOTHERS?!?"
We did eventually eat that September night...Inside a Wendy's with 25 Christmas trees in it. Only took us an hour of driving, round trip.
(Yes you read that right. One hour of driving for Wendy's. And yes, that really is our best option--unless you particularly love gas station food.)
(And yes, the Christmas lights in September were lovely.)
It's such a silly story, I know, but it does have a point.
It's been a lifelong habit of mine to make snap judgments. I did it in Missouri. I did it again in Austin. And I certainly did it here.
Shortly after that experience, I decided that I was ready to leave Alaska. It just wasn't for me. It just wasn't for us. It was too expensive. It was too far. It was too harsh of a climate. It was too "behind the times." (Plus, it didn't help that it hated all mothers.)
And y'all, I got my wish.
Exactly 6 months after our arrival here, we learned that the Army is needing my husband elsewhere. My household goods were unboxed in August, and will be put right back into boxes in May. (I'm already tired just thinking about it.)
It's probably what makes me judge places so quickly, this never having enough time. Needing everything to work *just so* on my crazy-tight schedule.
So many of us are living in pressure-cooker worlds where we expect everything to be done in minutes.
But a lot of things in life take a little bit more time to be ready.
Crock-Pots are marvelous because they're slow. It tenderizes things until they are so easy to handle that they fall right into place. It cooks things fully, but without drying them out. It takes raw things and makes them safe, without smoking everybody out of the place in the process. You just have to give it enough time. (And, you know, turn it on.)
Alaska may not have been every single thing that I was wishing for, but I look back at all of the stories that I wrote here and I realize that I have learned so much. And I truly am so very grateful that I was here for those lessons!
And seven years down the road from my very first documented kitchen mishap, I *still* may not be every single thing that I was wishing for yet--but another birthday and a little extra time has taught me this:
The longer it takes,
the more tender I am towards others.
the less likely I am to burnout as I reach it,
(or burn anyone else in the process.)
the more delicious it will be when it's finally ready.
So here's to all of us who are taking a bit longer to "find our finish." TURN IT ON, and then keep it going. It will be worth the wait.
"Being confident of this, that He who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus." (Philippians 1:6)
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Just as a TOTAL throwback, I thought it'd be fun to give you my favorite Crock-Pot recipe. :)
"Moose Drip Sammi's"
You need:
-2 1/2 lb chuck roast (or moose roast if you're in Alaska) ;)
-2 c beef broth
-1/2 c soy sauce
-1/4 c Worcestershire sauce
-3 T brown sugar
{-1 T garlic powder
-1 T onion powder
-1 T Italian seasoning
-salt
-pepper}
{these are all completely made up measurements. HA! just season to taste.}
Dump everything in a slow cooker. DEAR GOODNESS, DON'T FORGET TO TURN IT ON. Low is good. Cook beef for 4-5 hours. (Moose takes even longer!) Get out forks and shred meat in the crock. Put on top of toasted bun with provolone cheese. Add horseradish sauce to the bun if you love yourself. Ladle juices into ramekin for sandwich dunking if you really, really love yourself.
