The Bag Conquerors, a Pictorial -- Sun., June 17

Cotulla, Texas:

Somebody had to do it. The bags were getting unruly; a handle sticking out here and a bag bottom there. The bag of bags didn't stand a chance.

Bowie was the first to subdue the bags, getting right in the midst of the pile and tossing and shredding. Sunnie came along to finish the job.

Both of them finished off the bag of bags by strewing the entrails far and wide.

Fini. Fait accompli. The bags are officially dead. And on the seventh day, the cats rested.

Makes Scents -- Fri., June 15

Cotulla, Texas:

In an effort to make sure our black water tank (like a septic tank) is empty, we read that Calgon water softener will loosen everything stuck to the sides of the tank and to the internal sensor, and "take it away." (That's a little play on the Calgon commercials of old, "Calgon, take me away...) 

Anyway, the first time we used Calgon we found it in liquid form. Easy to use, no muss, no fuss. The next time we looked for Calgon all we could find were bath beads in different scents. We chose lavender vanilla. The instructions stated to dissolve the Calgon in warm water and pour it, along with a gallon of water, into the empty black water tank, i.e., through the toilet. Bob took care of that this morning after he emptied the black water tank into the company-provided external tank. 

I asked Bob, "Does this mean our black water tank will smell like lavender vanilla?"

His quick-witted comeback, "About as much as my farts will smell like peaches."

Peaches and True Humorous Stories -- Wed., June 13

Cotulla, Texas:

I am a peach aficionado/addict/connoisseur and, I'll admit it, snob. When we lived in Oregon and Washington I planted peach trees where we lived. The peaches were out of this world divine, juicy and, one tree in particular, was prolific; giving us over 175 peaches one summer. To me, nothing says summer like fresh, ripe (and did I mention juicy?) peaches. OK, watermelon falls into that category as well.

Much to my delight the Hill Country of Texas grows peaches. I've been waiting for them to come to the market and my patience has been rewarded with absolutely yummy peaches that we bought at Walmart yesterday. I bought 7-8 peaches. Today we're down to one. Must. Get. More.

Peaches are wonderful plain, cut up over vanilla ice cream, in a peach/raspberry/blueberry/ cherry fruit salad, or cut up and served with baked or sauteed chicken. Summer is my happy fruit time!

TRUE HUMOROUS STORIES (have to get these out on the blogosphere):

Canadian Trip, Circa 1991

My friend Cindy and I, my son, Michael (age 12), and Michael's friend, Marcus (age 12), embarked on a trip to spend a week in a timeshare at Fairmont Hot Springs in eastern British Columbia. We opted for the most direct route from Portland, Oregon which was out I-84, then north through Tri-Cities and Spokane in Washington, and Sandpoint, Idaho.

Because we had a timeshare with a full kitchen we wanted to stock up on provisions. Sandpoint, Idaho has a great Farmer's Market about an hour from the Canadian border. We went crazy. Bought potatoes, corn, peaches, nectarines, apricots, plums--all our favorite fruits and veggies.

Upon reaching the Canadian border crossing, we were asked by Border Services Officer (BSO) if we had any pitted fruits. Oh, nuts! I forgot about not being able to take pitted fruits into Canada. The Canadian BSO was very nice about it. He told us we could park the Explorer in the designated parking spot and eat as much of the fruit as we could.

So...four of us stood outside the Explorer, stuffing our faces with peaches, nectarines, apricots and plums until we couldn't stuff any more fruit into ourselves. The rest we handed over to the BSO who promptly threw it all away. I must say, we made a pretty good dent in a week's worth of fruit! And we had no problem with constipation over the next couple of days. Lesson learned.

The 5th Wheel Refrigerator

Here we are parked in an out-of-the-way South Texas location guarding an oil field gate with temperatures soaring to 106 degrees. Our refrigerator is getting warm, warmer, uh-oh, meats in the freezer are thawing. Time to figure out what's happening.

My first thought was the refrigerator needed to be defrosted. Monday afternoon I decided to defrost it. While I was in Cotulla, I went to Super S to buy ice for our ice chest to keep the meats, cheese, eggs and milk cold while I did the deed.

As I was driving to the Super S Bob called to say he figured out what was wrong with the refrigerator. Seems the top door latch worked fine, but the bottom door latch didn't so cold air was escaping. That didn't explain why the meat in the freezer was thawing, so I decided to defrost anyway.

Monday afternoon, I took everything out of the refrigerator, iced the most critical things, then got to work defrosting. While I was at it, I thoroughly cleaned the whole thing top to bottom. (That's got to help keep things cold, right?)

After defrosting and cleaning, the refrigerator was still warm. Drat! What could it be? That's when I read the small print by the refrigerator controls: "1--Cold; 9--Coldest." What? For some reason I had it in my mind that the lower the control number, the lower the temperature in the refrigerator. I had turned it all the way down to 2 in my effort to make the refrigerator colder. Did you know I'm a blonde?

 Bugs in the 5th Wheel

Last night, I was sitting at my computer, happily typing my blog. I reached up to shoe away a bug on the back of my neck. It was the tag from my shirt. Kept typing. Then it felt like a big bug hit the side of my neck and I hastily swiped it away. There must have been a wrinkle at the neck of my T-shirt as the bug fell down there. I let out a shriek and pulled the front of my T-shirt out to GET THE BUG OUT OF THERE! Oh, oops, it was my earring. Did I mention I'm blonde?

Camping with Kids

Back in the day when our kids were about 12 and 8, we used to take our Dodge van and go camping along the North Umpqua River in Oregon to swim in and hike to waterfalls. Usually the kids slept in sleeping bags on the floor of the van and we had the bed.

On a very beautiful summer evening, the kids wanted to sleep out on the chaise lounge chairs under the stars. We told them, "Okay, but don't be going in and out of the van all night."

At 2:00 a.m., I woke up to pounding rain on the van roof. No kids inside. I opened the sliding door and looked outside for the kids wondering if they could possibly be sleeping through the rain. I mean, we definitely tired them out with swimming all day long! No kids, no chairs.

I woke Bob up and urgently said, "It's pouring rain and the kids aren't in here and they aren't out there. Even the chairs are missing!"

We launched a full scale, DEFCON 2, search. We couldn't imagine where they had gone. After frantically looking under trees and all around our site, we found that somehow the oldest son, Randall, had tucked his chair, extended full length, UNDER the picnic table. Michael's chair was sideways under the edge of the picnic table so only the middle part of his body was covered.

We hurriedly rounded them up and shoo'd them into the van, gave hugs all around, told them we loved them, then asked, "How come you didn't come in?"

Their response? "You told us not to."

Kids, ya gotta love 'em! (The oldest is a blonde.)

Parallel Universe -- Sun., June 3

Do you ever have a day when you feel like your life isn't your life? Well today is that day for me.

First, I partially woke up and it was incredibly light in the room. In my slowing awakening mind I thought all the lights were turned on in the middle of the night. Bob happened to be standing nearby and I mumbled, "Why is it so light in here?" Then I opened my eyes and said, "Oh, it's daylight." We laughed. It was 8:00 a.m.

Went back to sleep because no how, no way was 3:00 a.m. to 8:00 a.m. enough sleep. 

I woke up again at 11:45 a.m. to Bob bringing me breakfast in bed!!! A three-egg omelette with avocado, mozzarella cheese, and sauteed mushrooms. What a guy. OMG, we've been together 29 years and this is the first time he's brought me breakfast in bed. Definitely a parallel universe kind of day.

Bob has cooked before. He makes excellent shepherd's pie (with cornbread on top instead of mashed potatoes), chicken enchiladas and grilled tuna and cheese sandwiches. Plus he helps in the kitchen with cooking prep, making salads and doing dishes. [An aside: In his college years--and for a while after while traveling the country with his first wife, Laurie, and their four-year-old son, Randall--he was a short-order cook for Sambo's Restaurants. That's a story for another day.]

Today is moving day at the gate! Bob is getting a workout. He has vehicles coming at him from three directions at one time.

Traffic jam at the gate.

Rush hour!

Round 'em up, move 'em out!

Awesome size.

Mobile crane.

If you look closely the driver is waving. What a ham.

Get along li'l doggies. [Um, how about BIG DOGS!]

Bob is dwarfed by these

Tanker

Boots & Coots Field Office

Crew sleeping quarters

Water or a chemical?

Satellite dish

Generator

3:45 p.m.: My shift. Incoming. The next phase must be starting. I have big equipment coming IN now. They're finishing up the coiled tubing phase then they have to move out the previous equipment to make room for new equipment.

Well, I got confirmation from someone who just dropped off equipment. On their way out they yelled, "See you in the morning." Next phase is something called "packing," according to Bob.  


I looked up packing and found this: 

Oil and Gas Well Drilling and Servicing eTool

Below is an excerpt from the abridged version of the Dictionary of Petroleum Terms provided by Petex and the University of Texas Austin
© Petex 2001

packer n: a piece of downhole equipment that consists of a sealing device, a holding or setting device, and an inside passage for fluids.

packer fluid n: a liquid, usually salt water or oil, but sometimes mud, used in a well when a packer is between the tubing and the casing. Packer fluid must be heavy enough to shut off the pressure of the formation being produced, and should not stiffen or settle out of suspension over long periods of time, and must be non-corrosive.

packer squeeze method n: a squeeze cementing method in which a packer is set to form a seal between the working string (the pipe down which cement is pumped) and the casing. Another packer or a cement plug is set below the point to be squeeze-cemented. By setting packers, the squeeze point is isolated from the rest of the well.

packing n: 1. a material used in a cylinder on rotating shafts of an engine or pump in the stuffing box of a valve, or between flange joints to maintain a leak proof seal. 2. the specially fabricated filling in packed fractionation columns and absorbers.

packing assembly n: the arrangement of the downhole tools used in running and setting a packer.

packing elements n pl: the set of dense rubber, washer-shaped pieces encircling a packer, which are designed to expand against casing or formation face to seal off the annulus.

pack-off n: a device with an elastomer packing element that depends on pressure below the packing to effect a seal in the annulus. Used primarily to run or pull pipe under low or moderate pressures. Also called a stripper.

pack off v: to place a packer in the wellbore and activate it so that it forms a seal between the tubing and the casing.

Our four wells have all finished fracing. Here's more info on fracing: Eagle Ford Hydraulic Fracturing Facts. Coiled tubing is also complete. 

Do you feel like you've joined my parallel universe?

Thou mangled motley-minded flap-dragon! -- Sat., June 2

Out of my sight! Thou dost infect my eyes. 

~ From Richard III

Tonight, while passing time, I found this website of Shakespearean insults. (Thank you A.Word.A.Day). Go to the site below, read the insult, click "Insult Me Again," and you keep getting a new insult. Priceless. (Maybe I'm just easily entertained. I hope you are too.)

Shakespearean Insulter

Gate guarding update: Tonight I am busy on the gate. Flow-back tankers are lined up down the road. It takes approximately 30-45 minutes for each tanker, plus other trucks with trailers are coming in to take out equipment.

Being a night owl my whole life, taking the 3 p.m. to 3 a.m. shift is a piece of cake. Work comes first. Blogging gets done, games on Facebook get played AND I work. Can't beat that.

Today's wildlife scenario: Two roadrunners (I'd venture to guess a pair), are out collecting bugs, going back and forth outside our rear picture window. A pair of mockingbirds are dive-bombing and attacking the roadrunners. It is very apparent that the mockingbirds feel their nest is in danger from the roadrunners. The roadrunner was on the move. I tried to get a good picture. Here's my best effort. 

One of the two roadrunners living by us.

South Texas sunset.

We keep hearing stories from the truck drivers that they have been running over rattlesnakes in the road. One driver told me he has run over 10 rattlesnakes. Maybe that's why we haven't seen one yet. (Or maybe it's the constant replenishment of mothballs under all our vehicles.)

All for today. Short and sweet. Be sure to comment if you're so inclined. Bloggers love feedback!

If you spend word for word with me, I shall make your wit bankrupt.

~ The Two Gentlemen of Verona

Such bugs and goblins in my life!

~ Hamlet

 
Travel Bug out.

Schuhplattler polka -- Sat., May 26

Cotulla, TX: 

A little back story: I'm of German descent. A few years ago, Bob and I joined a folk dance group in Portland, Oregon and learned how to dance reels, polkas, waltzes, schottisches, landlers, tarantellas, minuets, the Mexican hat dance, and others.

I've told you how bad the bugs are here. Here's how bad... (At this point you're probably asking yourself what does folk dancing have to do with bugs?)

Well, let me tell you. When I go out during the hot afternoon to check trucks in and out of the gate, the black flies bite my legs. It hurts! I slap my left calf, slap my right knee, slap my left ankle, slap my right thigh. Sometimes four or five bugs bite me at once or in rapid succession.

All I can think is that I look like an Austrian or German doing the Schuhplattler polka which consists of slapping knees, thighs and ankles. You can find YouTube videos of the dance. Here's one: Schuhplattler dance and another Schuhplattler polka.  (I wish I had the whips and could use them like the dancers at the beginning of the second video! That would kill some bugs for sure--or at least keep them at bay. What did you think I wanted whips for?)


Normally, the schuhplattler is a dance in which men try to impress the marriageable ladies with their dancing prowess. In my particular situation, being the only woman in an oil field full of male workers, the men are probably pretty impressed by my thigh-slapping, bug-killing "dance." 

I think they get a "kick" out of it at the very least. I must look pretty silly out there trying to rid myself of the black fly bite-y bugs. At night, it's the mosquitoes. 

Oh well, maybe they're getting as much of a laugh out of it as I am. "Look at that crazy lady!! What is her problem? Is she putting on a dance for us?" 


Ya gotta find humor where you can out here. I think the Texas sun is getting to me. 


Travel "Bug" out.