I love being a nomad. But here's what I miss.

It’s no secret that New Mexico is full of friendly, easy-to-talk to people. Almost everywhere I go, it’s like butter to strike up a conversation. Like today, when I went hiking at the notable (and stunning) Ghost Ranch here in Abiquiu, familiar to many thanks to Georgia O’Keefe’s residency and its landscapes that inspired many of her paintings. I kept seeing the same two women and their dapper Jack Russel, so we stopped and chatted on the trail for a bit. 

I think it’s funny that when I share about my current nomadic status, people say some iteration of “Have a great trip!” when we eventually part ways.

Because is it a trip? It’s not not a trip, I suppose. But trip makes me think of piña coladas and poolside hangouts. And like, zero responsibilities. (That’s also the term so many folks liked to use when I returned from deployment: “How was your trip?!”)

Mulling it over, I think I prefer the term journey. Because between the sightseeing and gazing at art-worthy scenery that often surrounds, real life does still happen. 

And real life can both take your breath away in the most sincere, majestic ways, and also leave you kind of doing a big ole’ sigh every once in a while. So today I thought I’d take a little break from a deep dive, super highly-strategized post and instead just lay some real practical amusement on the table about what I miss. What’s been weird and slightly inconvenient. And some stuff you may not think about when living a day-to-day life in a single space.

Trails of Ghost Ranch

Chimney Rock of Ghost Ranch

First up: BOOKS.

I brought a bag of ‘em with me in the car. And from someone who used to frequent the library at least three times a month (when she was a real resident), I’m pretty sure I’ll always find joy in picking up an eye-catching title when I’m not necessarily looking for one. That’s what happened at one of my latest home/pet sits. I fell in love with the owner’s library book. One I discovered halfway through the week and tried to gobble up in its entirety in the remaining three days, but failed to do. So I called around to some book stores and asked if they had it in stock. It’s an “older” title, circa 1998 I think, so no one did.  Better luck online,” they said. Or, “We can order it, but it’ll take 7-10 days.” 

This is the dance. Will it arrive in time before I’m at my next location? What if that location falls through and I end up somewhere else (which oh yes yes, has happened!)? Little free libraries, dotting some of these ‘hoods, are nice and all. But it’s not quite the same experience as browsing fully stocked rows and rows of crisp books whose covers satisfyingly crinkle in your hands when you crack them open. Also, I miss the smell of libraries.

So here’s my conclusion: someone out there could make some serious bank by starting a transient library network. Open their doors to travelers to check out a few titles, which then said traveler could just drop off at their next city location. Poof! Stinkin’ easy. (I kid. Logistically, I’m sure this would be a nightmare. But if Amazon can take over the world in a matter of years, maybe some kind of underground railroad of books can happen, too.)

Hammocks and books and dogs named Momo

Momo and me, being all BFF. Mo' Momo, please!

Which brings me to…. MAIL.

I did end up ordering that title. Somewhat begrudgingly by way of Mr. Bezos’s empire, purely because that was the only carrier that seemed capable of delivering my new crack addiction “on time.” Except when I typed in the address and it prompted me: was I sure that was correct, because that real country-eque location was pretty much unverified on their end, and I hit the button insisting I knew how to read, I got a notification six days later. At the correct address. “Undeliverable.” Accompanied by a note from a sweet angel of a seller, in all caps: PLEASE GO TO THE POST OFFICE AND PICK IT UP!!

So yes, I miss the ease of having a single, identifiable, easy-to-find delivery address. Not just for the occasional package, but for my other love: hand-written cards. I still send them, but receiving them’s now a bit of a circus. Maybe I should just use my animal communication prowess to teach one of the many well-fed, big-boned birds hanging outside my casita window (not many pigeons around) to do the job instead.

And finally, since we’re talking about stocked shelves… PANTRIES.

But first, let me back up. I gotta hand it to the four amazing house sits I’ve completed via TrustedHousesitters I mentioned above (with three more on the way!). Because in addition to caring for the most lovable creatures (dogs, cats, my first horse named Dante), meeting new friends and being able to stay in some absolutely magical homes for free (I’ve saved about $5K in housing the past few months, if not more), you know what an extra super awesome perk is? They come with stocked pantries. 

Dante shared his apples with me.

Not saying I necessarily just go around and eat every morsel of people’s food in their homes like a starving little anteater. I do travel with two reusable grocery bags of dry staples—spices, rice, pasta, coffee, crackers, the like—and a small cooler with room for a quart of oat milk, a carton of eggs and a few hunks of goat cheese, butter and veggies. I still visit some variation of a grocery store weekly. But I sure do miss having my own pantry and fridge of ample, go-to ingredients. Like more than the same four condiments. More than one kind of nut to snack on. So yes, you better believe I take people up on their offer to “eat whatever you want in the fridge or pantry” since I’m watching their animals for free.

I wish I had room in my car for all my staples. That’s the drawback of Airbnbs in addition to the financial cost. Most of them don’t come with jars of both kalamata and green olives or three kinds of mustard. And on occasion, I like a dollop of dijon or maybe some stone ground to go with my cheese and crackers. 

Also, I almost always forget something in the kitchen when it’s time to head out. A bag of pistachios, a jar of peanut butter. A real nice jar of truffle salt. There goes Katie, leaving a culinary trail to be remembered by.

All this said, I’m still of the mindset that the delightful, unexpected moments still far outweigh the not-so-convenient quirks of living a transient life. Just take my latest discovery: that mushrooms sprout on the roof of my place here in Abiquiu. MUSHROOMS! 

Instead of adding them as a side to dinner, I think I’ll leave them there for the next person to look up and marvel at. Maybe when they need a dose of whimsy between a c’est la vie sigh.

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