Last week we were sitting in Chili's in Malaysia enjoying mango juice, french fries, and Australian beef while watching the Rodeo Championships broadcast from Houston. It was the bull riding event, and the kids stared in fascination. I explained the rules of the competition, telling them to watch the 8-second clock to see if the cowboy could endure. It quickly turned ugly as one cowboy caught a bull horn uppercut to his chin. I admit, it was kind of hard then to explain why people do this.
But it brought on a bit of nostalgia. I told Maya that 4 years ago we attended that same rodeo in Houston. I thought of turkey legs on the bone, deep-fried pickles and Oreos, and my pink cowboy boots that Maya loves to wear around the house. For international day at her school she got to dress up as a cowgirl (how else do you dress as an American??)
Imagine my surprise when a few days later Dave says, "Do you want to move to Houston?" Heck ya, when?
Two weeks. That wasn't what I had in mind. Suddenly there are a hundred things here I haven't done or seen. Suddenly I find myself in a whirlwind frenzy. My heart aches to leave what I've come to love here in Malaysia, but the other part of me is super excited to scream down the 21-lane Katy freeway singing Rascal Flatts at the top of my lungs.
So here we go again. This time there isn't an anxiousness about a new culture, a new country, a new language. There is excitement to see old friends and reacquaint myself with Taco Bell.