Houston to Home.

Of all the places and all the times I've ever thought to look for you, HERE was the absolute last place I suspected! All this time I've been waiting for you...and here you were all along. I hardly even recognized you, you look fabulous! Have you lost weight? Muscle toned? Tanned? Teeth Whitened? Botulism Toxins? Whatever it is, I must say it certainly agrees with you.

This post is a bit different than my normal blatherings, but still full of knowledgeable, informative nonsense. I've been going through some changes, myself. Big changes, people. Big things. Big, big things...

When last we saw our little Heather, she was moving to Houston, ready to join corporate America. A scared, lowly North Dakotan, about to make her mark on the South. With suits in her closet and business cards in her briefcase, she met with big wigs and upper management hoo-has across the globe... I was madly in love with a foreigner, learning the ropes of a big city, and expanding my comfort zone a hundred times over. Later that year, I traveled to Wales in the United Kingdom for a month to train at our head office. Excited, I boarded the plane with all the comforts of home I could cram into my suitcase. A new country! New and exciting things! New foods! After a few weeks in the Welsh countryside, I learned to abhor their bland, inedible food and temporarily came down with a mild depression every time I got hungry. The people, I found, were equally unappealing. When a co-worker asked if I would like to join them in scotland over the weekend, and I politely declined because I wanted to explore and hike around the countryside and mountains I was currently in, I was labled as 'rude', and treated as such for the remainder of my stay. While I was there, alone, tired, and outcast for being nothing but a polite American, my Canadian love of 4 years called to abruptly halt our relationship. There was nothing I could do. When that happened, when I truly realized it was never going to be the same...I lost something. I was hurting more than I ever had before that time. When the month was over, I hobbled my half-starved body onto British Airways seat 33A and fell asleep. Despair, is the only word dark and lonely enough to describe the next 6 months.

I grew to hate my work, and the people there. Everything reminded me of the life I was supposed to have. Unhappy and unwilling, I left my job and had enough money saved to try to pull myself back together before starting a new one. I went out. I shopped. I went on blind dates...many, many, really, really terrible blind dates. The kind you read about in magazines under the "mortifying moments" column. The kind where I not only pay for my food, but his as well, and not because I want to but because he asks me to. When religion, politics, abortion, and past relationships all come up as topics of conversation within the first hour. When he says "my friends are joining us in a few minutes" really means "Nobody's coming to save you." The kind where he begs you to come up to his apartment because "he has a really nice bathroom." The kind where you start looking for the candid camera. They were the kind of dates where I was asked "So tell me...what are you all about?" followed by a long, drawn out silence, all the while he stares at me and waits for me to reply.

And then, just when things couldn't have possibly gotten any worse, a young, strappingly handsome Danish pilot sauntered into a restaurant that serves nothing but pie, 24 hours of each and every day. The perfect storm. I asked him to join me at my table. He said yes. He asked me to wear his ring to marry him forever. I said yes. Shortly thereafter, we left palm trees and 80 degrees behind and moved up to join the family in North Dakota.

Cut to now, 2 years later: a dim light glows in a small, dirty room. The unmanaged hairs of a whispy ponytail whip back and forth with the rustle of papers flipping elegantly in the air. Mud is encrusted in various nooks and heretofore known as "crannies." The smell of concentraion and peanut butter m&m's ooze from a mustard-colored hooded sweatshirt to fill the air. Fingers ferociously fly across a black keyboard with each pressing 'click.' A whiter than pale hand raises up from the computer and dives into the bag of m&m's for more fatty satis-fat-tion. The chair turns. Enter: Heather. I am a petroleum geologist now, workin' for a living in the oilfields in North Dakota! I wake up each morning ('morning' is an extremely loose term, I've found. All those in favor of calling 3:00am 'morning', go stand over there with the unicorns and Easter bunnies.), walk past the oil rig to the work shack, sit at the computer and start my day. Rock and dirt from 20,000 feet below the earth come up to the surface, are shoved into a canvas bag, and slopped onto my desk. I then proceed to wash the dirt...wash...the dirt...and test it for traces of oil. Lather, rinse, repeat. Twelve hours later, I hit the hay and start the whole process over again.

I come back to Minot at the end of each well to a very handsome boy and a very fluffy puppy. Soon, I will come back to Minot to a little red house where the very handsome boy and the very fluffy puppy will be. Even sooner than that, I will start a new job that I recently just accepted with a new company in Minot and can come home to the house, the boy, and the puppy, every single day.

You just never know what tomorrow will bring.

Happy Job. Happy Puppy. Happy Husband. Happy Wife. Happy Home. Happy Heather. Happy Day. Happy Life.

Peace out,
H