"The mountains are calling..."

          
        Jesus considers the angles...

 

_________________________

"The mountains are calling and I must go."

––That's John Muir's famous quote, but I found another one of his that fits me better:

"Between every two pine trees there is a door 
leading to a new way of life." 

I'm not drawn to mountains, but I am to trees, and water.
And I am starting a new way of life, post-thrift store.
I want a to step through a door...

Yesterday, feeling that, and also feeling slightly panicky about quitting my job
--(though not doubting my decision, not at all)--
I decided to plan a BIG adventure:
Next Sunday, two days after my last shift, I'm taking the Amtrak  (24 hours) to Whitefish, Montana, near Glacier National Park.

Pine trees and water, right there.

I'm bringing girlettes and bears (Grizzly protection!), and I'd like to do toy photography.
I've been so low all summer, I haven't done any.
If I get on the ball, maybe there's even a chance of a 2027 girlette calendar.

We will take our new cart, they said.
 (I got them a Sicilian cart this week.)
It's 1,180 miles/1,900 km, I told them, and they changed their mind: 

The horse is too small for such distances. We will ride with you.

I'm excited to take the train.
The best part of the trip, I expect -- looking out the window, thinking nothing.

A lot of tourist services close at the end of September, including free shuttle buses to Glacier. Without a car--and I can't rent one because I don't drive-- I'm not sure I'll get to the park. 

But I could rent a bike for $30/day-- (or maybe bring mine on  the train?) --and there's a great trail system around Whitefish--not deep IN the mountains, but right nearby.
They are not hiding.

And honestly, I'm not eager to go on long hikes.
I'd be happy putzing around town, and I always like being in my hotel.
My hotel--walking distance from the Amtrak station--has a swimming pool outside, and my room has a kitchenette. I look forward to going to the grocery store. What will they have?

Wrapping It Up at the Thrift

I spent yesterday sorting the last of Mary Taylor's doll stuff that came to the store after she died. I'd felt sad handling it in June and had set aside about half. I don't want to leave it to someone else, and I am not so sad now either.

Above: Mary had a LOT of Midges (Barbie's freckled friend).

An article Mary had tucked in with them explained that Midge is interesting than Barbie because she has many different faces.

Huh... I looked her up, and Midge's full name is Midge Hadley Sherwood--and Barbie's full name is Barbara Millicent Roberts, named after creator Ruth Handler's daughter.

I never shared Mary's interest in fashion dolls--Midge was just one kind she collected. I don't want any of these, but I enjoyed dressing them up.

Volunteer Terry who only started this summer begged me to stay. "I will bring you a Diet Coke every day!"
I like her a lot--she's a little older than me, a retired nurse who used to work at one of the big thrifts, so unlike most volunteers, she knows what she'd doing. And she's fun.

And Manageress said, Please come volunteer?

So... maybe I will volunteer on Saturdays, when Big Boss is never there.

Yesterday it became so clear to me why I could never keep the thrift store to 20-hours a week in my mind:
It's been my world.

I know and care about almost every aspect of the store. It is so woven through me, it would never stay within a timeframe.

Yesterday, besides sorting Mary's dolls...

 I called the city to report human waste (shit) in the alley.

 I practiced saying the Lord's Prayer in Spanish with the cashier of Mexican descent, who is teaching me.

In the kitchen, I was humming a hymn without knowing it (customers have pointed out that I'm always singing or humming, but I'm not aware of it)---and my Kenyan coworker joined in.

I talked to everyone about my trip coming up. 

And Big Boss came by and in a very remotelly said we'd have pizza on my last day. No good wishes or anything.
And I thought--that too has been wound around my brain---his disrespect.
 I don't think it's personal. I mean, I don't think the guy likes me much, but I think it's his management style--he's big on Obedience.
I would be willing to obey if I thought he had good ideas, but he doesn't. He doesn't have ideas, much less a vision.

Anyway, I realized I haven't failed at all--I'd been wondering if I could have positioned myself differently within myself to do/feel better.
I don't think so.
If I didn't care at all, maybe, but what's the point if you don't care?

No, it was a brilliant place to be for a long time, and now it's not.

I also saw that I've become rather complacent.
I know everything there so very well --half the customers by name, where everything is, how we do this-and-that... History and practice...

I am scared to be a beginner again at something, but I think it'll be good to pick myself up, dust myself off, and start all over again.

Step through the two pine trees!