Mundane Restoration

I have added a blog to my blogroll (on sidebar)--Shadows & Light, the "more or less daily journal" of an American librarian, Steve, living in London with his "partner, Dave, and our dog, Olga." 

Steve takes nice photos, but it's more the blog's mundanity (oh, that could sound insulting--I don't mean "boring", I mean, a sprightly dailyness) that I enjoy: where he went on a day out (to see friends in Notting Hill); the ongoing treatments to get rid of moths in the apartment; can you get cranberry sauce in England? (yes).

I've looked at this blog off and on--somehow I found it among the 1,157 followers of Going Gently, a blog I keep stumbling upon. (Maybe you've stumbled upon it too? It's one of those Connector Centers––I can't pin down why.)

The way I enjoy Steve chatting about his everyday goings-on reminds me that I don't have to write about Important Things. In fact, browsing my old posts, I like the chatty ones I whipped off as much as (sometimes more than) more thoughtful ones that took more time. (Maybe I enjoy writing those more than rereading them--they help me sort my thinking out.)

Everyday Restorations

What tipped me into adding Shadows to my blogroll was this recent post about a "Quixotic Crusade", in which Steve picked up abandoned clothes strewn along the footpath where he walks Olga, and took them home to wash and fold and donate to the Oxfam thrift store.

Ha!
That's something I would do.

Well, not with clothes (there would be no end, and I don't care about clothes), but, you know, with stuffed animals. 
Here's my latest rescue from the recycle bin at work, before and after a bath:

I don't love this bear--I don't much like quilted anything––but the maker, Jo Ellison, stitched her name on its right sole, and the bear has been repaired in spots––this always gets me.

I must add some more patches, as I tore its fragile fabric a bit in the process of opening bear up. (Toys have to be basically sound to survive the trauma of restoration.) 
Possibly when I'm finished I will love it.
Or, if not, I could put it out at the store for 99 cents.

Now that I've realized I don't want to be a Nonprofit Fundraiser (yay!) and  I've settled into my job of 6 months, I am back to working on SNARP (Stuffed Needy Animal Rescue Project).

Last night I went looking for stuffed Yellowstone bears on ebay.

I still have many to restore, but I bought the only good one I found.  >
($15, incl. shipping––I've never found one for less than $10.)

This bear is NOT from the 1930s, (as the tag on photo says). 

Many thousands of these bears were made in Japan in the 1960s as mass-market souvenirs. 
Yet each one is slightly different--eyes attached at different spots, noses sewn on at odd angles... different materials, even, including various kinds of red collars and metal-link leashes (which I always take off).
This one has a great face, in my estimation.

I almost bought another because the seller wrote about how her grandparents had bought it for her in Canada when she was little (so, not just Yellowstone)–-but I didn't like the bear itself.

Anyway, I have lots!

II. "You will be uncomfortable."

Working on my own stuff is important because my job has become harder, psychologically. I'm happy enough to drop fundraising, but I'm not happy that I dropped it largely because it felt hopeless. Trying to get anyone else on board was like dragging a load of wet woolen blankets.
Or trying to shape a mountain of marshmallows.

I've said before the store operates in a poverty mindset, and poverty is weirdly self-perpetuating. When basics are lacking, it takes so much bloody work just to supply those, over and over.

Let me pile on another simile:
It's like climbing a steep muddy hill, always slipping back to the bottom, where you need to start all over.
And with no knowledge of or access to hill-climbing equipment either––ropes and cleats and whatever that would be.

That's how it feels to me, anyway. I may be missing something, but I started volunteering in February and have worked 4 days/week since June--I doubt I'm in for massive surprises.

The last slip-back was when I was about to sign us up for the MN Council of Nonprofits--I'd finally got the go-ahead! 
But the boss--
. . . OK, I'm not going to bore you with details--let me just say, the boss had not read any of the info I'd emailed him, so he screwed up the application, 
and then he said, "Why are we even doing this?"

And I thought, yeah, why am I pushing this? No one wants it, I would end up doing all the work--do I want to? (and for $10.25/hour––or, more likely, on my unpaid time?) 

And that was the end of that.

I keep saying this, but it's important to anchor myself in this:
I AM THE BOOK LADY.
I want to work with the books. And now the vintage stuff, too.
So...
DO THAT!

I love doing that, but the culture of the store has turned out to be more uncomfortable than I expected.

Do you remember, when I talked to my Russian job coach about my fears of working with people after 15 years of freelance, and how I dislike conflict, she had said,

"Knowing this is half the battle. You must persevere. You will be uncomfortable. Very uncomfortable."

I am not "very" uncomfortable, but it is uncomfortable to be the alien--the one, for instance, who's always pulling antiques out of the dumpster.
You know, that can trigger class resentment, so I try not to make a lot of noise about it... (Not now that I've done it so often.)

And yet being an older white lady who knows what sterling silver is also grants me privileges:

A while ago I said to a coworker who's got a criminal record that it's nice to have a flexible schedule--I can move days around, as long as I get in 20 hours/week.

"YOU have a flexible schedule," he said. "I don't."

I did not know that.
It's weird & icky to realize the bosses give me unearned special treatment.
One of them said recently, "I trust you."

There's no ACTUAL reason the bosses should trust me more than my coworkers.  I mean, there is a "hidden brain"* reason--perception is reality, eh?
Knowing what sterling silver is doesn't mean I'm more trustworthy.
In fact, it equips me to know better what to steal.
(I don't, but I could.)

So--I also said when I started that I would try to view this workplace as a spiritual psych laboratory---a place to practice patience (not my strong card).
I am working on that.

When stressed, back off and breathe. 
Think of the bears waiting at home for repairs.

 _______________

*Hidden Brain from NPR is my favorite, favorite podcast:

"Shankar Vedantam uses science and storytelling to reveal the unconscious patterns that drive human behavior, shape our choices and direct our relationships."