We were back on the road today after a bit of a break in stunning Santa Fe, NM, where the streets were filled with art and not-so-many people because, as one of the gallery guys told us, the first two weeks of January are the slowest of the year. But walking in the crisp, high-altitude air and looking at some street art was a great way to stretch the legs and wander the streets while eating amazing food.

I’m down to two jumpsuits (weirdly the exact amount needed) and this excellent number given to me by my lovely friend Elizabeth (check out her website) was just the ticket. Short sleeved in anticipation of warmer weather as we headed to Phoenix and roomy for the seven-plus-hours on the road. Something that has struck me throughout the drive—other than the breathtaking and changeable landscape—has been the people watching along the way. A comment made about my last post was that I had maybe been in NYC too long and forgotten how the rest of the country lives. Her observation got me to thinking: While the word “too” is subjective, I do agree that being in one place, whether geographical or emotional, for an extended period of time can cause a slide into assumptions and/or amnesia around what else exists outside a self-imposed comfort zones. I can only speak for myself here.

Thirty-six years in New York City brought me all kinds of joy—and another thirty-six years may be in my future at some point what with AI extending life and and what-have-you. Those years also gave me a particular view on the world, because no matter how many other places I traveled, I lived in the politics of one place. And I embraced that place even as I quite often railed against how I thought the joint was falling apart, etc.

My larger point in all this is that I’m a girl born under a sign that prizes security, which can sometimes invite me to ignore larger truths. To adjust myself and accept if something isn’t quite right because maybe I don’t want to change anything. It’s no surprise that when I find a place to be that I feel good in, I set up camp. When I was freelancing at various magazines, I wanted badly to know that when I came back for whatever amount of days each month I was sitting in the same place. I like getting my coffee from the same place and when that place closed last year I felt much more adrift than I should have in a city with a Starbucks literally every two blocks. When I worked in the land of rock’n’roll, I kept this need for security under wraps since I wanted people to think I was up for anything. But in reality, that phrase terrified me, because really, what does being up for anything really mean? Plus I mostly just wanted to be home taking a bubble bath. I kept that a very good secret though. (When a co-worker recently told me her husband didn’t have a permanent desk at his job and had to sign up the night before for a place to sit. In. his. Own. Workplace. I had to walk around the floor to shake off the stress I felt on his behalf.)

But clearly, this insular world can also cause some emotional and physical paralysis. It’s a thing I’ve grappled with: be aware, take chances, stay safe. I like that Dennis and I are bringing ourselves somewhere new. I’m looking forward to hanging out with my dad and also getting to know how another neighborhood in America lives while challenging myself to move around happily in a new place. There’s never been a better time in my life for this to happen. And having never driven cross the country, I’ve loved staring out the window and wondering what people are doing, how they live and what they like. Last night when a table near us started doing shots of whisky through bone marrow (because that’s a thing), I thought, man, those cowboys are doing something that to me is thoroughly disgusting. And, yes, they were cowboys because they announced themselves as such to the waiter, not just because they were wearing the hats and I made a snap judgment. But you know what? After doing some research I found out that drinking whisky out of bone marrow turns out to be a bit of a New York City thing. So you just never know. And while I’ve probably lost the thread on this whole post, coming back to my main point: Trying not to forget that there are other things inside and out to pay attention to means shaking things up. And as scary as that can be, I’m going to keep on trying to do just that.

Tomorrow we sail into California and land on my dad’s doorstep. One more post in the jumpsuit left in the series. And I’m so glad you’ve all come along for the ride!