The Traveling Mercies Supply Store

The Girlettes are preening like parrots, for they are to have an outing in two weeks. 
"Our public wants to see us," they say.

True! "Bring your dollies next time," said one of the eight women at the library Needlecraft group yesterday. 

I'd showed them the photo of Bethany (the Girlette) as King James as a Boy. [post, 2 days ago]
They wanted to know about the costume construction. 
I explained it's assembled for photography, not movement, and is mostly held together with pins. 
Several wanted to SEE this in person.

I. Hands On

I'm excited: these crafters were exactly the change from social media I've been craving: 
they were literally hands on.

I'd worn Auntie Vi's knit stripey sweater, and they were immediately on it--asking what it was made of (Japanese Noro yarn; they nodded); and, when I didn't know the materials mix, several of them touching it, one leaning across the table to finger it.

"Those little fibers are silk ends. I'm guessing mixed with cotton and rayon... some wool..." 
(Not guessing.)

Most were knitters, working on hats and sweaters. 
One lifelong knitter was making an intricate Scandinavian pattern; a young woman who said she's a newer knitter is part of a project to make cable-knit beanies for chemo patients. 

One woman said she was "a stabby"--meaning a needle-worker not a knitter. She was working on a super-fine, counted cross-stitch picture--it would drive me crazy. But she, with her fine work, was the most interested in my God's eyes. She looked through the sticks from Ms Chocolate, admiring ones that had lichen on them.

I told her she could take some, and she did.
 "I love traveling supplies," she said. 

(Traveling supplies--what a great phrase!)

She took enough to make four God's eyes, which she will leave for people in the park where she walks daily. Someone had started leaving painted rocks along the path there during Covid, she said, and they've never stopped. 
Now she will add her work.

I'm loving playing with color combos. 
I'm getting a little freer in mixing-and-matching, the colors clangier. 
My favorites remind me of Pop Rocks--remember those candies that fizzed and popped in your mouth?

I'm also getting faster. I made these yesterday:

Volunteer Abby came over on Halloween night (cold, rainy, and on my quiet corner, no trick-or-treaters). 
I'd been working on Boy King James that morning right until I'd dashed out the door --so the kitchen was covered in scraps of fabric, and the LR was covered in sticks and yarn.

Abby leads a tightly controlled life, it's her coping mechanism, and I'd worried she'd feel uncomfortable with my mess, even though it's a creative mess, not dirty. (Well, the sticks do shed.) 
But she said she was very comfortable, 
and then she added, 
"I'm a little jealous of how much you enjoy your dolls."

!!!
Her honesty surprised me.
I'm so glad she said that--it keeps channels open.

II. Hands Off

Another friend has been signalling what I think is 
jealously (? disapproval, certainly) by making little snide comments. 
"oh, there you go again" [actual text]

We were good friends years ago, when her life was bright with creative energy. We only reconnected recently, and her life has dimmed. 

I'd hoped her art-making might reignite,
 and maybe she'd hoped so too? 
It hasn't. (Yet?)
I'm guessing she senses that I'm disappointed. And, honestly, I am. 
So her snideness is unpleasant, but it makes sense. 
Still, it curdles the friendship, and I suppose my disappointment does too--like drops of vinegar in milk–– and I'm backing off.

This reminds me of Ass't Man. It makes me sad, but I don't see what I can do. Especially when substance-use is involved.

It's weird to watch some people's lives soar and others tank. 
I'm not being judgmental (and I'm not saying that old friend is tanking--it ain't over till it's over): 
some lives really do tank, sometimes shockingly. 

Yesterday I heard that a contemporary of mine died a few weeks ago–– of alcoholism. This woman was talented, attractive, had children, husbands, money... and went through treatment, the swank & spendy kind. 
But up till the end she insisted she could handle her drinking, even as it shredded her body and mind.

Self-delusion is such a problem for us.

____________________

III. The Traveling Mercies Supply Store
is right next to the Rag & Bone Shop of the Heart 

--Oh––change of tone––yay: it's quarter to seven in the morning, and it's light out! (Time change last night.) 
I fall asleep early on dark nights, and then I like to get up early--this is nice. 
And it gives me more time before 9:30 church, if I want to blog, for instance. 
I'm feeling chatty this Sunday morning.

Anyway--more Hands Off...
Like the needlework group, the church I've been visiting makes me hopeful I can divert my thoughts from the thrift store into new channels.

When I'd gone back to work at the store, I'd wanted to keep it light--to maintain a Volunteer attitude:
"I just pop in for 5-hour shifts and do whatever there is to do and enjoy the fun stuff!"

But the store drama is such a strong magnet, it pulls my mind to it.
And there's so little self-awareness there on anyone's part (not unusual for a workplace, but more of a lack here because the need is greater), it's a recipe for frustration.

One thing the store should do is get us some ICE training. 
My four Hispanic coworkers are all US citizens, for instance, but we're seeing that doesn't necessarily matter. And lots of store neighbors and customers do not have legal standing...

But training? My workplace never does that sort of thing. 
Never. Not even stuff like fire drills.

The church I'm visiting does.
They are hosting an ICE Observers Training in a few weeks.

This is so backwards. The church is all-white, so far as I can see, and in an affluent neighborhood. 
(I live on the edge of that neighborhood--1.5 miles to my east, halfway between me and the thrift store, is George Floyd Sq.)

That's how it goes though, right?
Resources––including (especially!) information––flow into receptive channels.

The store's channels are like blocked drains--clogged by effluents from social factors, but also by poor management. 
I DO blame management, because they have accepted or sought more responsibility and then not stepped up to it.
Well, the individual managers are blocked too, for various reasons.
Nothing more I can do there except find new channels where I can flow.

Actually, there is more I could do at the store. 
I could set up trainings, like for ICE, or active shooters, etc. 
I did set one up once, for Narcan. 
But I am so unsupported and undercut at work, I cannot raise my energy enough to do this in the face of that indifference (or even hostility).
I don't have that sort of personality. 

I've seen other people who do have that personality give up on the store. One firebrand tried his mightiest to set Big Boss on fire with righteousness. 
He too finally gave up––and went to work for Harm Reduction. 

I see him sometimes, and he is radiant! As well as depressed, if that makes sense. If you're sensitive, the suffering is going to get you down, but if you're passionate, hopefully you stay effective in your work and flowing in your soul. 
I think this former coworker manages to do this. I always love to see him, so I believe he does.

What I'm saying about the store is not new. 
What's new is my tactic of staying, but moving on too!
(Hold on loosely, but don't let go.)

I'm wary (cautious, taking my time), but I'm genuinely excited too.

Even something like the twice-a-month needlework group can have a big extension. To prepare the girlettes to go to the next meeting, for instance, means I have to fix Boy King James's costume so it doesn't fall apart, and also dress up a couple others.
That's invigorating!

I really don't know about church.
I'm thinking that today, if I feel like it, I might stay after (I never have) and introduce myself to the pastor. It's a small enough congregation (60, 70 people), I imagine he's noticed a new face.
But who knows, maybe today his sermon will tank.
Who knows?

I see how much I want these new channels to flow--or some others on down the line, if not these. Keep 'er moving...

Wish me traveling mercies!

Love ya'll Beautiful Spirits!