The Last Month

The last month of my life as a New Yorker has begun. Actually, I've never really called myself a New Yorker or truly felt like a New Yorker, but have called the city home for almost five years now. So, leaving will not be easy.

I'm going to miss some people very, very much. Not all 8 million of them, but about eight. (Okay, maybe more than eight...) But, I've cultivated some friendships that have flourishing into deep, meaningful relationships. I know these ladies will not be replaced. These walks around the park, glasses of wine sitting cross-legged in smallish apartments, text messages about sales at Banana or train delays or "Want me to get you some Sbucks? I'm stopping." And I know how she takes her coffee.

I am going to miss the first warm days of Spring, even if it is in May. Brunch at a sidewalk cafe (so, New York.) Macarons. The beautiful sanctuary I worship in each Sunday. Viva Herbal Pizzaria. Summer Stage free concerts in the park. Betty's hugs. Sheppe's sugar cookies. Kim's storytelling. Liala's swaying. Susannah's prophetic word. Kristin's sincerity. Lisa's openness. Heidi's hair.

....

While it's still not home, not Texas, and further away from the Mason Dixon line, I know this opportunity is totally a God given blessing. Chris and I have eight months to learn something we know very little about. I really know enough about farming to be scary. I don't even think I could bluff my way through a one-on-one conversation with a real farmer very well. Last night my first pair of Dickies came in the mail and I look pretty cute in them if I do say so myself. And, unlike my other short and tight attire, there is plenty of room throughout the hips and thighs for squatting and bending and moving.

The reality of farm life will probably not become a reality for me until I'm actually living in the barn, with nothing but the rooster crowing to wake me up. (I threatened to not take our clock last night to Chris.) Nights will be star-filled. The air will be light and clean and smell like mud. And the only thing on my face will be SPF 30 and a smile.

I am afraid of being lonely. Of being bored. Of being forgotten as soon as the U-Haul crosses the Tri-Boro Bridge. I realize that most people would not do this. Most people would not leave the busiest, loudest, most urban, commercially driven city in the world for a farming community of 800 people. People don't quit their jobs for a barn apartment and a monthly stipend that is the annual equivalent of my first part-time, associate manager position at Bath and Body Works in 1999.

But we know there could be nothing better for our mental, physical and spiritual re-awakening as this apprenticeship. Come what may.

...

So now, we are sort of embracing the whole minimalist thing. We are considering going without internet. (WHAT?!) We are dropping our cell phones down to the basic package. And I am thinking about washing my hair with baking soda and apple cider vinegar.

I've never been one for easy, affordable ways to clean your home. I've always felt personal hygiene should be left to Dove, Herbal Essence, and Suave not home remedies. I talk about people would even consider using the diva cup. But friends, all that might just change.

I'll be honest, I'm driven 50% by lack of money. Being poor causes one to get creative with their resources. But the other 50% of me really wants to live a true granola life. (As is living in a barn for eight months is not enough...) Perhaps I'll learn how to make homemade bread, or at least give it a try. Maybe I'll put EVOO and jojoba oil on my face. Maybe I'll stop using bleach all together. Maybe...

I think we may just dive head first into this whole thing. Eating local for a season. (Of course I'd fight for a list of five things, or so, that I can have which aren't local...) What would my five include? Coffee, dried fruit, almonds, Greek yogurt (well, maybe not. Why have Greek yogurt when you can have New York State yogurt?) I'd have to seriously give this some thought... Avocados? Tuna? Qunioa? Oatmeal? (Is there a such things a local oats? I've got to look into this.)

I'll let you know where we land on that.

And, if we do go without internet, you can read about our eight moths away from the city in the book!