About Me

I am Mark Stefan Reinoso, and I am taking my wife and 2 youngest kids away from their lives, to a new one. 

 

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Abby and the "Pitch"




My wife Abby is a very different person, and I don't mean this in a negative way. She's lived a different life than most, and done things most could only dream of. She had a very traumatic, dysfunctional upbringing, but has emerged as an incredibly talented, vibrant and motivated woman. She’s always game for trying new things, which isn’t always me. I’m not saying I am rigid, but I am sure everyone else will. When it comes to travel, we are more in tune with each other, but it’s funny how our attitudes and moods align. Every couple months or so our conversations go like this:

Me, drinking wine: “ God, I’m sick of this heat, I’m tired of my life, I feel like buying a house in Italy and moving there. Wouldn’t that be cool, honey? We could buy a farmhouse and restore it, you could have chickens and goats, and I'll make honey and wine”

Abby, getting excited: “well, lets do it!, we can make it work, let's go!”

Me, getting into protectionist mode: “easier said than done, I’ve got this thing to do next week, my partners need me, my employees suck”, blah blah

Abby, getting aggressive and more excited: “ no, lets do it, lets look at houses right now! We can put the kids in school there and they can learn Italian”(or French, or Spanish)

And then my wife gets her IPAD out, and starts scrolling furiously, looking at houses and farms, and then signing up for international real estate newsletters, etc. For the next week, she bombards me with articles, pictures, house listings and everything related to travel. At first I go along with it, but soon I’m irritated and start deleting the emails as soon as they come in…at least until 6 or 7 weeks later, when we start the conversation all over again. HOPE, PLAN, FORGET, REPEAT

This time was a little different. It started like any other conversation, but I was more earnest. She knew my angst, and she always knew when I was serious and when I was whimsical. I told her I didn’t want to move to Europe, or Asia, I didn’t want to take a job as a manager in Japan….what if we just went somewhere for a year? What if we went a few places for a year? We have a really small, dodgy condo in Scottsdale, the payment is only $335 monthly, we could use that as our home base, and just go a few places for a year…? “What do you think honey?”

Abby, nervous: “what about the kids? What about school? Would we have to homeschool them?, what about the house? What about my dance? What about your work?”

We talked like we always talked, only this time with more wine, and even more purpose. We came up with myriad scenarios, where we would go, what time of year, when and how I would fly back and forth to PHX for work, our conversation ran the gamut of emotions and scenarios. We chopped it up! The next morning, I woke a lot more subdued, did my work and got my day started. I heard her go to the bathroom upstairs, and I walked up the stairs. I expected this morning to be like every other morning after we “plan” to leave…back to work, back to our lives, back to the grind. I walked into the room, thinking she was going to be getting ready for her day, instead she was sitting on the chaise lounge, staring blankly at the wall.

Abby: “so, we're really doing this?”







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