I Spent Today In A Cloud of Dust

I’m slightly obsessed with Grace Potter and the Nocturnals and Florence and the Machine at the moment. And, embarrassingly, Jesse McCartney.  And Hayley Sales.  And Mumford & Sons, and Laura Marling.

Living on a rig, with miserably slow internet, does not feed my music obsession.  I am starving out here.  I have to listen to the same 3 songs over and over because it takes those 3 songs ALL DAY to load.

Today’s Expoit:

I swept four days ago. This is today’s pile. And my foot.

I think there may have been this much in my shoe last night after my run. 
Dirt roads + lots of traffic = gritty shoes.  Gross

The End.

I got someone to run with me ONE other time, I miss Catherine

Last night I had ice cream and hot cocoa powder for dinner. And a roll.


The roll was homemade, so at least it might almost be somewhat healthy, right?

Today’s Exploit:

Matt has told everyone on the rig that I tried to kill him the other night. I want to take this time to say that I was just running along, minding my own business. He could have stopped at any time he felt like it. Also I asked him if he was sure he wanted to go another two miles. Really, deciding to run 4 miles after six months of nada… I will accept no blame for this.

Running with Matt reminded me of another time I had a running buddy.

It was during my last school. Pretty much every one there knew that I ran every evening. So I would tease them about going with me. They all claimed that they were in shape, or trying to get there. I would tease the ones who claimed they ran a lot about being scared that I’d be faster than them. And I challenged the ones who were trying to get in shape to keep up with me.

Mostly it was all talk, and I never thought I’d be faster than any of them.

Finally one of them decided to give it a shot. He claimed he ran about four miles, regularly. Actually he said 10 kilometers. But I didn’t believe him because he translated that to 4 miles, and everyone knows 10k is about 6 mi. Or everyone SHOULD.

Anyhoo, we decided to go to a park and run. And I convinced some other people to come too, but they decided to play football on the grassy area, instead of heading for the track.

Sergio and I left Alex and David with their football and set off at a moderate pace. I thought it’d be a nice little run at that pace. But after about a mile the pace had slowed considerably. After 2 I was almost walking.

That was when Sergio thought we should turn around. So we did, and I wogged back (that’s half walk, half jog. I read it in a book once).

About half a mile from the car I thought Sergio was going to pass out. He had to stop and hold his side and gasp for a while. He decided he’d walk the rest of the way. After I was sure he wasn’t going to die I ran back to my car, at a normal pace. Then I turned and ran back to Sergio. I did this a few more times, until David and Alex came over and started playing catch.

Gradually this moved to the parking lot, and I sat at my car and watched them pretend to be great athletes.

After that I couldn’t get any of them to run with me again. The closest I got to company was the class soccer match. Nearly everyone played, and those who didn’t refereed.

Then I got hit in the head 2 times. A soccer ball is not soft.

How Far Do You Usually Go? Oh, Just a Little Bit Further

A little snippet of trivia for you:
In London on June 13th 2009 over 1,000 cyclists stripped off to take part in the World Naked Bike Ride. The sixth annual protest against oil dependency and car culture saw riders stage nude rallies in more than 40 locations around the world. In London, the naked cyclists, some painted with anti-oil slogans, followed a six-mile (10km) route from Hyde Park Corner past the Houses of Parliament and through the West End.

-Found here.

Today’s Exploit:

The other night both of the directional drillers started talking about how they need to start running/exercising. They told me how much they used to run and started comparing workout stories.

Naturally I had to tease them about actually getting started. In response Matt, the day DD, decided that he would run with me the following evening. He asked me 3.8 times if I was still going to go. I think he was nervous.

Six o’clock finally came, and we set out. We walked for a while, and then he told me not to let him slow me down. So I started running, maybe slightly slower than my normal pace.

Matt kept up for ¾ of a mile before his lungs forced him to take a break. A 10 minute/mile pace is pretty fast after 6-8 months of doing nothing.

The next interval was just over a ½ mile.

We ended up going about 3.5 miles this way, each interval slightly shorter or slightly slower. It was a nice easy run for me, rather fun after continually pushing myself through the 4 mile route I normally do.

Also 3.5 miles is a bloody long way for a first run. I was quite impressed. I also though Matt was going to keep running until he fell over dead, and I’d have to drag him back to the rig.

He probably will be taking a few days off to recover movement in his legs. But he is determined to keep running, which is more than I can say for the last running buddy I had. Hopefully I get to come back to this rig so I have company occasionally.

I wonder what he’d say if I told him I wanted to run 8 miles next time?

Accordions and Hula-Hoops

I was going to post about Starla today, and my adventures with her. But the story wasn’t finished, and I have not motivation. So, instead, you get a random story from 6.7 months ago.

Today’s Exploit:

When I visited home, not the last time but the time before, it was summer. And Laramie had the weekly Friday Farmers’ Market.

I forced Cupcake to go with me, and we saw lots of dogs, and bought fruit that I had never tried before (and still haven’t. We forgot about it and it mouldered in the fridge), and we Hula-hooped. We used giant hoops, and made fools of ourselves. We had great fun and scared all the kiddies that wanted to play. It was the Wellness booth, and we played with all their games.

When we decided that we’d swiveled enough we started wandering some more.

That was when we discovered the busker. He was playing the accordion. Cupcake was immediately enamored. She’s still on her European kick. And the accordion reminded her of France.

We stood there and listened to the music for a very long time. Cupcake even requested a song, and he knew it. She would have stood there until he finished if I’d let her.

But finally I told her I had to make dinner, and she had to come with me. So she tipped him and told him she loved him, and we trundled along about our business.

Right now I am listening to some music that Cupcake gave to me, the soundtrack from Amélie. So I am remembering standing in the sun, surrounded by people listening to the accordion. And imagining sidewalk bistros and the smell of bread wafting from patisseries. And the Eiffel Tower.

This music makes me want to travel.

Conversation With A Fox

For some reason I haven’t yet figured out, the better I sleep at night, the more tired I am in the morning. It was far easier to get up when I was waking 6-7 times a night. But now that I only wake 2-3, mornings are miserable.

Bah humbug.

Today’s Exploit:

Yesterday, when I was taking a short little walk after dinner, I met a fox.

I was trying to atone for skipping my run by using the weekend as an excuse, and eating a dinner made for the Hulk.

I was meandering down the road, trying to will my phone to have service. I succeeded long enough to discern that my family was screening my calls. Then my will flagged, and I was left in a barren wasteland of prickly pear and some low-growing deciduous tree.

That was when the foxes came to meet me.

The first one ran across the road and vanished in to the cacti.

The second one, however, decided to investigate this blatant invasion of its space.

It stood in the road and watched me.

Me: Hello, Mr. Fox.

Foxxy: *Stare*

Me: How are you tonight?

Foxxy: *Stare*

Me: Sorry to bother you on this fine evening, but I needed some quiet air.

Foxxy: *Stare*

Me: I just needed to get away from the rig, and pretend to exercise. So that I can feel a little better about my sedentary job.

Foxxy: *Stare*

Me: I just sit in a box all day. When I took this job I had hoped for hands on work, but it turns out it’s an office job. Just worse because I have to live in the middle of nowhere for weeks at a time and dust and never-ending noise.

Foxxy: *Stare*

Me: But you didn’t really want to know that, sorry. I’ll be going now. Enjoy your evening.

Foxxy: *Scurries off into the cacti to join its mate.*

Me: Bye!

Ode to Tea

I watched one of the Twilight movies last night. I don’t know which one it was, but I rather enjoyed it. The movie was pretty terrible and cheesy, but I had a very enjoyable time making fun of it. Also, I have to admit the Werewolves were pretty cute.

Today’s Exploit:

An ode to tea. But first, I need a refill…



Ok, I’m back, and ready to begin. *Cough, cough…Ahem*

An Ode to Tea

Tea, I drink you in the morning.
Hot, with milk and sugar.
Raw sugar, coarse grains with a slight hint of molasses.
I scorch my tongue on the first sip.
Every time.

I drink you in the afternoon.
Chilled, with lots of sugar.
Southern style. Sweet.
I think I have a sugar high.

And tea, I drink you in the evening.
Warm and toasty.
Smelling of mint and drowsiness,
Comfort and home.
I now need a nap.

Bob, the Show-Off

I just saw an advertisement for one of the phone companies. One that allows way too much internet access.


It had a girl who had just been on a date. Not only was she sitting outside the guy’s house, hiding in a bush, she was stalking him on Facebook and sending “couple” photos to everyone she knew.

It made me want to ban the use of this device from the universe. I think they were a bit counter-productive in this case…

Today’s Exploit:

Every once in a while I’ll come across a roughneck that also “likes to run”.

They tell me how much they run when they’re at home, and that sometimes they run while they’re on the rig, too. I’ll give you an example of these conversations. We’ll call the roughneck Bob for simplification.

Bob: So, you like to run a lot?

Me: Yep.

Bob: How often do you go?

Me: I try to run every day.

Bob: Wow, I like to run a lot, too.

Me: Oh yeah?

Bob: Yeah, I run all the time when I’m at home. I run almost every night. I like to stay in shape.

(Most of the people who tell me this have a difficult time making it up the stairs)

Me: Wow.

Bob: Sometimes I like to run at the rig, too.

Me: I see.

Bob: Yeah, I run all the way to the gate and back. It’s a pretty good run.

(This distance usually varies from .5 miles to 1.3.)

Me: Yep.

Sometimes they ask how far or how long I run, and if they do that they invariably end the conversation really fast and go back to work.  I try to avoid this question if possible.

I’ve only met one that runs further than I do. And he was bloody fast. I’m jealous.

PS I know I'm late, but it's really not my fault!  We had to start a new run.  I promise.

My Very Own Trainee

Crap, I’m procrastinating. And I’m going to be late. I still don’t even know what I’m going to write about today, its 8:19. I am failing.

Today’s Exploit:

The kid that I’m working with seems to be pretty quick to pick things up. So I get a lot more reading done, since I don’t have to do the other mundane tasks that my job requires (I finally finished "Dracua" after only 5 months).

And he fixes pipe screens and overshots so I don’t have to. Without me even asking. It’s like having magic elves that fix everything at night. Sort of like the shoemaker’s elves. Except I see mine.

He usually stays in the unit until 7:30 or 8:00. It’s not a bad thing, just awkward because he persists in using the same desk space that I am using. I end up squished in a corner while he checks his email for two hours.

Honestly, how many emails can you get in one night? Also, why not check them at night? You know, those 12 hours that I’m not here? So that I don’t have to curl up into a mouse sized ball and not move for fear of disturbing the sacred process.

Also I’m too much of a wimp to ask him to move the computer a few feet down the counter.

On the bright side, he is a tea drinker. And he has an electric kettle. That means a never-ending supply of hot water, sans the coffee flavor of every other pot/cup/dish that exists on the rig.

Overall having a trainee is not a bad thing. I get to be bossy.

The Breakfast Taco Curse

Summer has already begun. Days are hot and nights are comfortable. Juniper Berries, it’s only February. I have to deal with this nonsense until the end of October!

Today’s Exploit:

Every so often I’ll get a call from the rig floor asking if I want a breakfast taco. I try to decline, but the people who might take “no” as my answer will be offended if I actually say “no”. I’ve noticed that almost anyone who offers food will be offended if I decline.

It’s a curse.

For example, breakfast tacos. Breakfast tacos usually consist of scrambled eggs, bacon or sausage and sometimes potatoes. And, of course, tortillas. The problems is that I don’t like eggs. And I don’t like sausage or bacon (unless it’s a special occasion and we’re at the cabin). And the potatoes are generally cooked into the eggs and pig meat. So I am left to pick out potatoes trying to avoid the eggs and pigs while not appearing to be discriminating. They would be offended if they knew I didn’t like those two immensely important breakfast staples.

Also, generally by the time they offer I’ve already eaten breakfast. So I’m not at all hungry. Then they get worried that I don’t like the tacos because I can’t scarf them down in 3.2 seconds like the boys out here can.

I am left to lie my heart out, telling them how hungry I was and how good the tacos con juevos y pigs were. And while I feel guilty about not particularly liking the tacos I don’t feel the least bit of remorse for lying to them about me not liking the food.

This is a breakthrough. I don’t feel guilty about lying. I will have to ponder this further. Maybe I can extend it to other parts of my life. Maybe I can morph it into the ability to be mean to people who deserve it.

In the mean time I’ll be ballooning up to immense proportions off food that I don’t want, sort of like the girl in “Charlie and the Chocolate Factory” who was obsessed with gum and ate the gum when Mr. Wonka told her not to. I might turn purple as well. So the next time you see a big purple blimp with a head say hi, it’s probably me.