“We’re halfway through our morning routine!” said the chipper older gentleman behind me in line at Trader Joe’s. “She could be a service dog, look how good she is, she knows the routine!” he said, smiling lovingly toward his sweet Pittie patiently waiting for a treat. Here you go, Cassie, I offered, digging out one of Charlie’s in my bulging jacket pocket alongside his poop bags and my car keys. Charlie isn’t yet two, and gets a little crazy in the grocery aisle so he hung back in the truck while I loaded up on my favorites: almond cranberry cashew nut packs, egg burritos (no limit in burrito form!) and body butter.

But back to my new friend. He walks Cassie to the rose garden park up the street to greet other dogs and do her business, buys a local newspaper from the homeless guy on the corner, then picks up groceries here at TJs (“everyone knows me here..they’re so friendly!”) before walking back home. Later he’ll tinker around his historic pueblo home before visiting the park again. I know this routine well, having AirBnB’d in this section of Santa Fe last fall while our new home a few miles away was under construction. Super charming area this is, with blocks of small, neutral-toned Pueblo homes that make their statement with brightly painted doors, gates and floral-tiled address numbers.

Tell me more.

“Oh but you have to drive 599! I don’t like that busy highway. I stick to a one-mile radius.” Really? I noted that the highway was one of the quietest I’d ever driven in anyplace I’ve lived in. I hadn’t planned on engaging with anyone. Gotta get back to the new house and prepare to empty out a small storage unit that got broken into yesterday (more on that later). But my friend was having none of it. And Cassie stared at me as though waiting for a response, and a treat. So I rattled off a few the multiple towns I’ve resided in over the past decade – Phoenix, Boston, Philly, Seattle – to make my point. “Boston? Where?” Somerville. Waltham. “No kidding! I lived in Waltham. What were you doing there?” Husband’s job. “Was he at Brandeis?” No, biotech company, now kaput. (I did add that Alex, my stepson, applied to Brandeis and got accepted, which was super cool, but chose Gonzaga to stay close to his mom in the northwest). My friend then explained the difference between what happens to employees when a company tanks here in the US vs. Europe. “How did your husband fare?” Um, company tanked. Brief severance, time to get another job. “In France, they don’t do that..the government bails companies out.” Oh. Well. This ain’t France. I explained that in his volatile industry of choice, it’s typically a big win or an abrupt adios. We’ve been through both, and keep on moving. And, my new friend, I really envy your routine!

I, too, love a routine.

It just takes a bit more to make it stick, what with all the relos. Because on a dime, it can get upended. For example, this fabulous house we just built in Santa Fe? Our forever home? It’s forever, but my husband’s work is based in DC. Happened after we began the build. Pandemic long behind us, the whole WFH lifestyle is gonzo. Especially with an executive position in a public company with a team to lead. So incoming is an apartment, corporate office, and weekly dry cleaning errand. It’ll be done in a few years, and we’ll be back here, forever, but for now it’s off to DC with our pup Charlie. Summers here in Santa Fe maybe, but maybe not. We tried the split time approach – he there two weeks a month, me here full time, then me there once a week, but the chaos associated with that plan was too much. Flying sucks, boarding my dog is expensive, and being apart really sucks.

You’re not as emotional as me.

Oh yes I am, you just don’t see it, I explained to my sister last week when she, me, and my brother met up in Arizona to spend a week with my mom. I cried this morning on a walk, rattled over having to sort through a ransacked mini storage unit that got broken into yesterday. Two hours of fishing out cherished Christmas ornaments, framed photos, and a bicycle I have no time to ride. I mourned for the beat-to-shit artificial tree that hasn’t graced a home in two years because we haven’t lived in one belonging to us. Begged God to keep our health and connection to extended family intact amidst all this change. Cried at having to temporarily leave behind the new seeds planted at a CrossFit gym I started building roots, muscle and buddies at. Worries about my rescue pup adapting to our urban nomad lifestyle.

Grounding strategies.

So? What to do?

Ditch the excess. I recognized the perils of excess upon entering my busted up storage unit. “Happens about twice a year,” the less-than-concerned facility manager sighed. “But here’s the case number and officer to contact..I think they got the guy.” OK, but what about my fucked-up artificial tree?!? At least that was the extent of it. We didn’t have anything of major value in there. No TVs, guns, or whatever criminals are looking for these days. AND. We don’t need all this stuff. It took a storage break-in to recognize hanging on to material stuff for the sake of hanging onto it is exhausting. Having less has taught me to stay hyper focused on what really matters – time with my family, with myself doing things I love instead of sorting through stuff I don’t need anymore. End of month, this unit will be emptied. Not by criminals, but by me, donating it all.

Move your body. No matter where I’ve lived, had or didn’t have, I’ve committed to staying fit. Really fit. Exercising is a non-negotiable. Sometimes it’s been at a Bougie gym with killer amenities. Other times it’s been a half decent running trail outside an apartment and little else. Or a yoga mat I can roll out anywhere. I move, daily, and that’s a routine I never have to give up.

Get a dog. Cat. Lizard. As long it’s a living being that depends on you and loves you no matter what, life is so much better. Bonus points for rescue pets!

Perspective. It’s one life. I’ve chosen to make it an adventure, and my husband is all about adventure. So we’ve moved a lot. Bought and sold. Started jobs, left jobs, taken up hobbies, given up golf (God, who’s got time for golf?1?), and made tons of connections along the way. It’s all good. Even if it’s not everyone’s idea of “routine”.