Lost in the Mail.

Do you know what the statistics are for items that get lost in the mail?  

They’re low. Pretty darn low.  

I’m talking less than 1% here.  

So I can say with confidence that it’s a rather depressing feeling when one goes to the effort of making a card, handwriting a thoughtful Christmas message, spritzing it up with perfume (the old fashioned way), sealing it, posting it, and then taking it to the mailbox in time for holiday delivery, ONLY to find out that the recipient did, in fact, not receive it.  

Which means my carefully crafted letter is stuck somewhere, either in someone else’s mailbox, or in a garbage facility, unopened and abandoned. 

Kinda sucks, but after the initial “the universe hates me” period of mourning, I began to think that maybe it was a good sign.  

You see, I’ve been talking to this guy. We met a few months ago, had a great first date, and have been in contact since then. He doesn’t live here, which makes communication hard but after weeks of scattered chatter, I’ve begun to change my perspective on this “relationship.” 

Despite having never been in a “relationship” (none of them ever lasted long enough), I sure do have an awful lot of experiences with boys that merit proper storytelling.  

But more than that, they offer insight into what I need and what deserve out of a relationship. 

On our first date, he told me that “you’re the kind of girl that I can go months without talking to, but when we do catch up, it will be like no time passed at all.”  

At the time, I didn’t realize that he basically insinuated that we will indeed go months without talking and that when he does reach out, I’ll be there to respond.  

Never mind the fact that I’m the type of gal who would like to talk to someone I fancy not every few months, but every day.  

Oh no.  

In his eyes, I was the kind of girl who he said he could eventually marry. Ok, so the good girl, the kind you take home to mom when you’re done screwing around in your early twenties?

It’s meant as a compliment, but it’s also incredibly disheartening to hear because that just tells me he don’t want anything serious with me right now.

Hence the comment about catching up every few months.

That’s totally fine to say, valid, and it’s not like I want to push him into something he’s not in the right place or the right state to handle.

This hasn’t been the first time I’ve heard this from guys though. It’s a common compliment I’ve had told to my face and while I appreciate the honesty, I can’t help but feel duped.

These guys like me, they do, but they’re just not ready for me. So in the meantime, while they figure themselves out (again, that’s fine and dandy), they have me on a loose peripheral, available to talk to every few months.

Problem is, I’m not the kind of gal who likes to be strung along and addressed when it’s convenient for them. I’ve gone through plenty of “relationships” in which I’ve excused poor communication and justifications on why they’re being as distant as they are and I’ve learned that it’s just not worth the stress and pain that it’s all caused.

If a guy wanted to be with me, really be with me, regardless of the time in his life, he would. He wouldn’t leave me guessing if there was something there, it would be obvious.

Simple as that.

I’m a lover, I fall hard, but I’m starting to figure men out before I let myself fall for someone who won’t reciprocate the feelings I have for them.

It’s not fair. For me, for them, and for the possibility of a relationship in the future.

If in due time, things work out between us, let it be so.

In the meantime, I’m going to be content with my single status and cease being the only one instigating contact and pursuing something that they’re not actively pursuing back.

Like most Alaskans in the winter, I’m bundling up and settling in for the cold spell. With or without a particular man’s attention is up to what he decides, but I’m at peace with the knowledge that if/when he does decide to come knocking, I may not be as available as he hopes.

I’m not a sitting duck and I won’t be led on and kept on a leash and brought in whenever he feels like reaching out to me.

So we’ll see where it goes, if anywhere..

 

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Special.

It has been a long and arduous workweek and this is the first time in ages that I have been gifted with the rare opportunity to sit at my computer during happy hour and write.

I’m in the kitchen area with my whole family at the moment, all of us doing our thing.

There’s Alyeska, puzzling next to me. I’ve got Anton playing with legos, Mom making a salad with fresh greens from the farm, and my dad shaking up his newest creation of cocktails.

It’s a special moment, the kind of moment that was missed during the madness of this particular holiday season at the Krull house.

I’m finding that all of my returns to Alaska have centered around the opening of first: the coffee shop. And now: the restaurant.

And the last two years, they have inconveniently timed themselves around the holidays, which make for an unusually stressful time of year.

It was a miracle we managed to decorate the house at all this December, let alone handle wrapping presents and partake in holiday cheer amidst all the chaos, but we did, and now we’re thrust back into the madness of opening a business.

I don’t think I’ve officially shared with you yet, but aside from brew@602, there also lies a restaurant up at Whistle Hill called Addie Camp.

Addie Camp is a rail car that was built in 1913 and used to run on the 1880 Train in South Dakota. Named after a mine in the Black Hills, she was shipped up to Alaska via the Alaska Railroad and now lies up at the hill, refurbished and ready for another chapter as a restaurant.

Addie Camp is a lot of things. She’s intimate, nostalgic, historic, quaint, timeless, and reminiscent of a bygone era.

The word that comes to mind most often though whenever I see her up on that hill?

Special.

See, Addie Camp is one of the main instigators in helping get me back to Alaska.

It was during my visit in September that I was awestruck at how marvelous the whole restaurant was coming along. I had just toured by dad’s hydroponic farm and when we got inside of Addie Camp, I just felt this incredible feeling of missing out on what was likely going to be a spectacular success on the Peninsula.

The coffee shop, the farm, and the restaurant were all visions come to life by my absurdly talented and creative mom and with my dad’s support, I felt that this was a venture that I wanted to be a part of.

What they’re doing for themselves, for the family, for the community, and for the state, adds so much value and is such a positive upgrade to the Peninsula. But more importantly, it’s an inspiration.

I’ve experienced first hand how much work it takes to open a business. My dad has been a medical entrepreneur for years and my mom just had a thing for train cars and look where that’s taken her. Being surrounded by this kind of entrepreneurial spirit is encouraging me to follow my passions, and all this hard work shows me that dreams really do come true.

Last night, for our second soft opening, I got to work alongside my sister as a hostess as my brother waited tables, my dad remained host and bodyguard at the front door (and occasional taster of wine), and my mom checked in on everyone as they enjoyed their first meal at Addie Camp.

We were a family working alongside each other helping open a business and it was special.

Addie Camp made this special.

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