You might be a bush Alaskan if...

Living hundreds of miles away from a clothing store, most of mine are purchased over the internet.

Long live Amazon.com and all of its cousins!

Being able to buy clothes online is a blessing and it's usually a relatively easy process, but...pants are a problem.

Invariably, I choose items that are just wrong for one reason or another. It doesn't matter that I know my size. Even if I order the same brand and same size...something is always...hinky. And returning is a real pain-in-the-neck. I've done it, but don't like it much. There is a hefty stack of ill-fitting jeans in my closet to illustrate the point.

So...shirts I've got.

Socks are plentiful.

But, at this moment in time, I am pants-poor in the worst way.

I have put off buying pants until I can get down to Fairbanks or some other such city with actual dressing rooms and garments that I can touch and try on for myself. What luxury awaits!

Last year, I didn't get down to Fairbanks and what's left of my "trouser-wear" is on its last leg...uh..so to speak.

Last night, I was up late patching holes in my khaki-colored jeans by hand.

Now, it's embarrassing enough to admit that my clothes are so worn that I have to patch them. I'm not a little kid, after all. I haven't exactly been climbing trees or sliding into second base. I have no idea how I've managed to reduce heavy denim to thread-bare rags, but what's even more embarrassing is that I didn't have any actual patches, so I had to make some out of an old kitchen towel.

Yes, I said kitchen towel.

Yes, there were images of roosters printed all over it, but I did take care to place the patches on the inside where the roosters wouldn't show. At least, I don't think they show.

It was late, I was tired, and the lighting in the room was dim. Sewing by hand was slow and tedious, but by the time I finished up the last patch, I was feeling a little proud of myself for saving those raggedy khakis.

I felt rather resourceful.

Practically handy.

And I had to smile at the notion that my little patching job was a very "bush Alaskan" thing to do.

Even if it didn't involve any duct tape.

Sometimes I think being Alaskan has as much to do with the state of a person's mind as the state in their address.