Routine

The older I get, the more I find myself comforted by routine things. Maybe it is the Methodist in me. While some rail against the structure, I never tire of responding to the preacher's "The Lord be with You" with "And also with You." I never tire of the Apostles' Creed or The Lord's Prayer.

My dear Episcopal priest friend has called me the "Chinese Soprano" for over 20 years because my license plate says "I SING." I can't imagine him greeting me any other way. My friend Teresa and I have a routine of responding to most statements with a line from a song or a movie. Henry, (God Bless Him) will pose for a "geek shot" of the Vulcan "Live Long and Prosper" salute when we are together. My friend Andie and I both love pie and exchange "pie shots" by cellphone.

When I am asked how I am, my standard response is "I'm Doing!" I can't remember who I stole it from, but it has come in handy. It is a graceful answer to a question whose answer would bore most people to tears. It is my routine response.

One routine I desperately miss, even after almost 20 years, is my mom's routine response when she answered my phone calls. I would give anything to hear "Hey baby girl" just one more time.

I think there is a difference between "routine" and a "rut." I don't want to get so rigid that I cannot flex.

But I crave the warmth and comfort of routine.