I have suddenly become the new Cub Scout leader to Sonny Boy's den and I'm not quite sure how that happened. Our leader had been threatening to move if her husband ever got a transfer back to the lower 48 and I just kept praying that it would never happen because: a. She's one of my best friends here and I really don't want her to go (wasn't all this friends moving away business supposed to stop after we left the military life?), and b. That meant one of us remaining parents had to fill in the leadership gap. Lo and behold he finally did get that new job and three weeks later he's moved to Nebraska and their house is on the market. Loose ends are being tied up and soon the whole family will be gone for good. All signs are now pointing to me. Honestly, I've been groomed for this all along. Never volunteer to help. It only causes trouble. And this people pleaser has a hard time saying no.
What scares me the most is that I hate going into new situations not knowing every bit of information I could possibly know (and wearing the scouting uniform. Ugh. I thought my uniform days were behind me when I finally hung up my waitressing apron years ago.). I don't like feeling like I don't know what I'm doing and not knowing what the expectations are of me. I like it when things are the same. Change is scary. Good thing I've got DH to push me into new things or everything about me would be the same, same, same, and I would be the most boring person ever. I may still be the most boring person ever. I watch travel shows on PBS and documentaries often find their way into our DVD player. I'm in a book club and I blog in my free time. Every once in a while we actually have people who are not related to us come over for dinner. This is a big step forward in our attempt at having a social life. I think I'm secretly an 80 year old in a 29 year old body.
However, if I've learned anything from this year of teaching preschool it's that most of the time you just have to wing it. I'm getting used to the idea that I will do this Cub Scout leader thing. I don't have to babysit my nephews come fall so that should open up a day that I can plan (and maybe even do some laundry). I've got plenty of great parents in our group to help me and I'm taking full advantage of that, so consider yourselves warned. This may be a great success as long as no one expects me to actually know what I'm doing. I can wing it with the best of 'em. Lets just see if everyone can survive camp this week first.
Friday, June 3, 2011
Another season is over.
Spring concerts have been sung.
Kindergarten programs are complete.
Awards have been handed out.
Graduation ceremonies are over.
End of the year pictures have been taken.
Goodbyes have been said.
Young moose appear on a daily basis to eat my garden and trample the new grass that has been planted.
The slip and slide had it's christening while a naked nephew joins in the fun.
Summer is officially here.
Thursday, June 2, 2011
My nephews are napping. I have a limited amount of time here. There are many things I should be doing instead of writing this.
Like folding the mountian of laundry in my living room.
Washing the dishes.
Planting my garden. That's a big one.
Mowing the lawn. Another biggie.
But I just had to share these pictures. Never a dull moment around here.
This is my husband. No, he has not learned to walk on water.
He is standing on top of his atv.
He got halfway across this bit of water when it started to float and then boycotted this particular adventure and quit. Right smack in the middle.
There he sat swatting away mosquitoes until he was rescued. All those things you hear about the giant, bloodsucking, prehistoric mosquitoes in Alaska? They're all true.
Can you throw me a line?
Maybe I should take my boots off for this.
Luckily, we were on our way home when this happened. Some of his friends winched him out and then I towed him the 10 or so miles back to the truck and trailer. And somehow he managed to stay dry through the whole thing. That in itself is downright miraculous.
So what took us on this treacherous journey to begin with? Forty miles round trip through dust so thick we couldn't see (or breath!), water so deep we drowned a fourwheeler, and terrain so bumpy my muscles were aching. All so we could see this.
The Knik Glacier.
These views are definitly well worth the tired muscles, sunken fourwheeler, and the pound of dust I inhaled.