NYC: Dentist Number Three

I know I shouldn't, but I take it personal when the dentist tells me I have a cavity. And receding gums. And worn tooth enamel. And should be wearing a tooth guard when I sleep.

"Do you grind your teeth?" Not that I know of. (I mean come on, when I read all the causes and symptoms I sound like a prime tooth grinder candidate.)

"Do you brush pretty hard" Yes.

"The reason you're sensitive to hot/ cold is because your tooth enamel is worn and your dentin is beginning to show." And when your tooth enamel is gone, it's gone. Bye-bye, adios. And I'm 32.

"Do you drink alot of sodas (maybe one a month- diet/ sugar free) or eat raisins or alot of dried fruit?" I do eat dried fruit, about as much as the next guy. Not even once a week. Not all the time. I think the dentist is imagining me with a bowl of skittles or apricots or gummy bears just noshing away, all day long. I am not. I do like sugar though, but I don't think I have a problem... (until my dentist brings it up) it's not a weekly habit.... But isn't this place beautiful. I got some lovely treats from here for Valentines. Oh, European/ Nordic countries, you do gummy candies so, so well!

I just have bad teeth and I feel guilty about it. I do everything a can, and blah! I don't think I've gone a year and a half without needing a sealant or filling or cavity re-filled or something. Seriously.

Luckily my insurance paid for 100% of this painful visit. I get my cavity filled on Saturday, March 17th. Joy. I was also asked if I wanted to get "fitted for a tooth guard." No thanks. I'll stop by CVS on the way home. I'm pretty sure United Health Care would not help me pay the $400 cost of such a lovely thing. I'll start with the $20 buck "one-size-fits-all" guy.

I held back tears more than once. I held my tongue. After no less than twenty painful x-rays I was about to say, "I'm sorry, I can't do this anymore. No more x-rays." That huge plastic camera being shoved in my mouth at various angles. And yes, I know I'm supposed to "bite down" but understand that, when I do, the bottom and/ or roof of my mouth is being punctured quite severely. It hurts. It feels like I'm cutting my mouth. Repeatedly, like, oh, about twenty times.

In addition to an appointment on March 17th, I left with Sensodyne toothpaste, bloody gums, and a desire to go out and immediately buy fluoride mouth wash, a mouth guard and a new toothbrush.

What Are We Doing?

This weekend Chris and I headed up to The Farm do some pre-move cleaning, rearranging, sorting and to talk through some logistics. It was also our first road trip in our brand new car (1999 Mercury Century) which also got plates, tags, inspected and an interior cleaning. So, now our car is legit and it is all ours. It feels good.

We arrived to the farm right before sunset Sunday evening and spent the better part of six to seven hours doing some massive cleaning. Barn apartments have lots of cobwebs, dirt, dust and dead flies. I am so glad we decided to take this pre-move trip to clean because, well, it really needed it. Previous tenants had left shoes, coats, food items, toiletries, and a kitchen stocked with dishes, pots and pans, cutlery, even a Cuisinart food processor and rice steamer. But, I have all my own kitchen items. *whine* I don't want to move into what feels like someone else's house.

Farmer Thomas (and his wife Liz) assured us none of it belonged to them, so we made piles for recycling, trash, or to take home and wash (a LL Bean coat, some overalls, thermals and dish towels). Many of these random things (a drawer full of VHS tapes, books, and cabinets full of kitchen utensils and cookware) we shoved in one chest of drawers and will not open it again. I'm not sure it could be opened again if we wanted to.

We know it is a temporary situation for us: living pretty rustically in a barn with exposed beams, cement floors, and a bathroom that is shared by other farmhands, however we both still want it to feel like home. Or at least feel like somewhere I want to be. The cleaning helped with that, and the purging and the rearranging.

...

The entire twenty-four hours we were in Valley Falls/ Schaghticoke/ Troy the temperature did not get above freezing. We drove through some snow flurries. There is ice and snow covering the ground where in a few short months kale and beets and gooseberries will grow. I'm scared of the cold. I'm considering buying some serious thermal socks and some long underwear to wear under my pants. I'm scared it won't ever get warm. It was so cold I actually wore some of the previously mentioned dirty clothes I found in the apartment. And two pairs of socks. And a toboggan that was laying on a shelf. Lice? Well, it was cold.

Our apartment has a little heater which is regulated by a thermostat, and it heats pretty well. Our space is in the cellar of the barn, underground and the wind blowing through at night howls something terrible. I must have woken up Chris (who slept with his headlamp on---not turned "on", but wrapped around his forehead.) three times saying, "Chris. Did you hear that?" I knew it was just the wood and sheet metal and old creaky barn, but it was all new. Again. New again. I had to mentally stop myself in that moment and say, "Wait a minute here, Stefani. Have you been in the city so long now that the country scares you? Because you are from the country. It used to be other other way around, stop. Listen."

The silence was massive. The cold extreme. The space we will live in, while larger than most NYC apartments, is old and dark and has spiders. (We killed 12 in less than 24-hours-- thus the headlamp!) But I know I will be alright. I know I will love it (most of the time). I long for not being around so many people all the time and not feeling rushed when I buy my fruit in the market and not feeling trapped.

It's still an amazing opportunity and we are lucky enough to just go and do and trust that it'll all work out. But my flesh says, Yeah, but it's still temporary. Yeah, but it's still not home. And when those feelings bubble to the surface I just have to say--- but it's obedience. And it is going to be amazing. It's actually a better life than I could have dreamed for myself five years ago. Money and storage and gas money and prescriptions and friends and Internet and putting away my engagement ring--- it'll all be fine. It'll be wonderful!

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!