Lazy doesn’t even begin to describe my energy levels today. I haven’t showered, brushed my teeth or even really gotten out of bed – which also means I haven’t gotten dressed today (no, Stasi, bathrobes – however fuzzy – do not count as getting dressed). It’s time to start preparing for Great Vespers. I don’t want to go anywhere. Not that I dislike attending church; to the contrary: I LOVE going to church and vespers – great, small or otherwise unnoteworthy – is my second favorite service. My favorite service is Matins, but I have yet to actually make it to Matins, considering how difficult it is to get me out of the house by choice or otherwise before ten. I still need to heal and nourish that ground. Perfect Christian I am not. Thankfully, God likes us in all our wonky imperfections. Being time challenged is only one of my (many) imperfections. Some days when I reflect momentarily on my imperfectness I think God must love me a LOT.
Anyway, slowly, with hot tea in hand, I am managing to get ready for church while simultaneously musing on the merits of urban homesteading and how much I miss being in the country where I can keep my horse (the one I don’t have yet), a few goats just for fun or packing or whatever and maybe some chickens. I can in theory keep chickens where I am currently; I hear roosters early in the morning or as the sun sets. This is OLD Santa Fe, not the fancy-pants, gentrified Santa Fe. People actually do quite a lot of real living here. And part of that living includes keeping chickens.
My chicken conundrum is whether or not to keep full-sized laying hens or my beloved banties. I don’t eat eggs (can’t stand them), but I could sell them. But what to do with the hens that are no longer “good layers”? I don’t eat animals. I end up considering every animal in my care as part of my family. Selling or giving them to others who will eat them is the same blood on my hands as doing it myself and putting them in my own freezer. Only worse because I get to play “pretend I had nothing to do with their deaths” so I can feel good about myself. Not an option. Bantam chickies that are totally adorable are most likely my best option. They can eat bugs, make compost, be cute as all get out and cause me no dilemmas. Or I can just not have any chickens at all. Even if I do think they’re cool and highly entertaining.
I actually did make it to church and nearly on time, too! The funny thing is church seemed that much sweeter tonight, like God was pouring extra favor on me for having overcome my ennui. It was a beautiful, sweet communion and especially so with the Theotokos (that would be Mary the mother of Jesus for those of you who have no idea who I’m talking about). And on coming home, I found myself perusing land for sale, housing in the country for rent, etc. and beginning the babiest of seeds of a plan to get myself out into the middle of nowhere. Even on a super modest income it could be done within five years – with some financial discipline and without a mortgage. In the meantime, urban homesteading is looking like a dream within reach. We shall see what God plops in my lap. He’s been amazingly good at taking care of me, the faithfullest of faithful, always eager to share happy little surprises with me. My life is a magical life!