REFLECTING AND MOVING ON

By Lois M. Valentin

31 Dec. 2013

2014- the year of rekindling.  Since I am in need of a rekindling or as some put it- a major overhaul. So I thought I would start with my blog which unbeknownst to me has been idle since Nov. 2012.

Since I also have many new friends, perhaps it's time to let others the opportunity to get to know me as someone other than an item giver or an online game player. There are many reasons I play numerous online games. Perhaps one day I will discuss them.

If you read my previous blog  posts, then you'll know how life has been for me. Enough said, at least at this time.

Soon it will be 2014. Milestones of life occur. My mom would have been 90 yrs. old on Jan. 2nd. She died at the age of 80 yrs. on 30 Jan 2004- about 10 yrs. ago. I miss her so much but enough said about that as I will start to cry.

Plus this year will be a biggie for me . In a few months, I'll be reaching the 60 mark.  

This flower child is still trying to find out what she wants to be when she grows up.  LOL

I've had my stint at many things. My 1st place of employment in 1970 was at $1.70 an hour.A shoe stapler. Then I moved up to shoe stapler and shoe lacer. Bumped up to shoe inspector and piecework.  Bumped up to shoe and boot lacer and inspector on piecework.  A multi-tasker even then!

My 2nd place of employment allowed me to cruise the streets as a PT preschool bus monitor.Bumped up to FT preschool bus monitor and preschool classroom aide.

Bumped up to a preschool home visitor and preschool Lead Teacher qualified. Occasionally I substituted for other preschool teachers. I also drove a small school bus prior to CDL .

Bumped up to preschool family worker.

This single parent ( I hated being used as wallpaper.)  used to work, raise my children, go to school and volunteer in the community. I even drove a taxi for 3 days. ( Hats off to taxi drivers.) 

But then that stopped and life changed.

I write children's stories- none published in book form , but they are online. My 1st one I wrote when I was a tween.

I used to be a clown and a gorilla, even made my own costumes, but then that stopped and life changed.

I even ran for public office, though not elected I got more votes than many thought I would get.

Eclectic me  wanted to be a private pilot / private investigator, but regs. and health dictated otherwise.

Now it's almost 2014. It's time to come out of this depressing mode and flourish.

I now hang pink, purple and gold with leopard  butterflies in my office as a reminder of  metamorphism.

I am tired of saying ' used to' aka 'yousta'.

So 2014 is the year of change. The year of green - money I hope. The year when depression lessens and other issues are surgically repaired,. ( I hope.) I am tired of being told I am a high risk.  Bah! High risk is if I do it myself. Specialists shouldn't even have that word  in their vocab. After all, they are the specialists with the specialist income.

Now it's time to be more productive and progressive but at my own pace and time instead of someone elses   Now it's time to rekindle what I do best, creatively sewing, writing and genealogy research.

So Happy New Year everyone.  Have a designated driver if need be. I used to be one  for my friends and friends of same.

Since it is still  2013. Until next year 2014

Lois

THE HOLIDAYS- THE SEASON OF $$$ by Lois Valentin

THE HOLIDAYS- THE  SEASON OF $$$  by Lois Valentin

Yes, I used the word 'holidays'. It encompasses them all- Thanksgiving, Christmas , New Years, and Valentine's Day. You might as well add Halloween to the list because that seems to be where it starts.

The business world seems to think of them in terms of financial goals with comparison charts  of sales past and in the future. Whereas they  may have that wonderful option to possibly see a bigger paycheck with bonuses, as it goes down the chain to the retail stores, the workers and finally to the consumers, that's where many options end.

The sales are everywhere. Discounts, BOGO, end of season sales, are just some to name  a few. There are even days named for sales. Black Friday, Small Business Saturday and Cyber Monday.

But what about the people who handcraft to make a living or those that are on a super fixed income ?

What about the people who would love to gift to friends or relatives, but just manage to put food on the table and heat their homes in the winter? Car repairs or Christmas ?  Must life be  always circle the pictures in the ads and  say ' this is what I would get you if I could'?

Oh, you say there are agencies to help. The agencies help those that need gifts especially with children. To my knowledge they are no agencies, etc. that deal with helping people buy gifts for others. No one is going to shell out a wad of cash and say ' Go to it. Buy what you want for your family and friends".

It seems in this era, handcrafted items , which take time, treasure and talent to make, are often the last thing on someone's list of gifts, when for many, it should be the first or even in the middle. But still, with limited funds, these , too, are often a thing of the past.

The holidays bring visions of high tech or  big ticketed items supposedly marked down from prices that may or may not have been raised previously, yet for most, handcrafted items are  all that is possible. Might I say, lasts a lot longer, too.

It sounds like I am rambling. maybe I am . I am tired of window shopping for items and going into sticker shock even on sale days.  I am going back again to my needle and thread and create some handcrafted gifts for my family and friends.

It's the thought that counts. Right?

I wish you all a very Merry Christmas and a happy healthy prosperous New Year.

From one of your favorite Valentine's ,

Lois Valentin

NO MORE HOSTESS by Lois M. Valentin

In memory of Hostess . A company that has been generational.

NO MORE HOSTESS by Lois M. Valentin


No more Twinkies,
No more Wonderbread,
And squiggley lined cupcakes will cease.

No more Donettes,
No more Ding Dongs,
Ho Ho's and Snow Balls.
Oh what will Santa eat?

Hostess, Hostess,
We will miss you the mostest.

Nature's Pride, Home Pride,
Beefsteak and more.
Just like Dolly Madison
They'll be waltzing out the door.

Hostess, Hostess,
We will miss you the mostest.

No more cheeese sauce, no more mix.
You have managed to take away, even the fruit cake.
Oh, what will the holidays will be ?
Will it be "good for goodness sake"?

Hostess, Hostess,
We will miss you the mostest.

TOTE BAGS IN HONOR OF TWO PEOPLE. BY LOIS M VALENTIN

TOTE BAGS IN HONOR OF TWO PEOPLE by Lois M Valentin

Two people that died last year brought sadness to many .Sadness filled our hearts. What could I do?

Since both people were associated with food pantries in their community. I decided to make tote bags in honor of them. this project started last winter and finally was finished last week, I gave  25 bags each to 2 churches that these people were parishioners of.

I am hoping that the churches could bless the bags in honor of these people. Using the bags as a fundraiser would help the churches raise some money . It would be nice if whoever bought the bags could, at least once,  fill them up with groceries for the poor parishioners or for  the food pantries.

The bags I made were small, medium , and large. Most were cotton. All made from reused, recycled, freecycled, thrift store finds , flea market finds, items I had on  hand or that had belonged to my late mother.

And before you ask, no, I did not take any pictures. I thought about it but kept on sewing . Life also made me forget about the picture taking.  Oh well!

Now that sewing project  # 1 has been completed, now it's time for another project or should I say projects, It is time for me to sew gifts for Christmas or sew something and sell it to make some extra  money to buy those things I can't make or afford.

Now my question is what to make. Time will tell.


Until next time,

Lois

FROM MY FAVE COLORS TO THE POWER OF PURPLE

FROM MY FAVE COLORS TO THE POWER OF PURPLE by Lois M. Valentin

Throughout my life, color has played a role in my attitude  and inspiration. When I was a child, I had light blue walls in my bedroom . My fave color was from the rays of sun combining with the dust particles on the sun beams shining in my room and reflecting on the wall and floor. They glistened.

I also like the colors I see when my eyelids are closed  yet I am looking at color.. Seems like  psychedelic patterns emerge. Often it reminds me of my hippie pants that were blue, green, orange, pink, and white stripes.

I made a purple and lilac bedspread for my 1st new bedroom set when I was 16. Unfortunately years later , a fire caused by neighbors children playing with matches caused me to lose most of everything just weeks after I moved from my mom's to my 1st  apt. and weeks before I had my son.

When my children were very small, Sam, my wonderful landlord, let me paint or paper as long as I paid for it. The living room was the focal point. One time I painted the walls salmon orange, then put a mural of an orange tree in one corner of the room. Orange was my fave color- at that time.

Since my red sofa clashed, I made sofa and chair covers . One time all yellow. Another time brown and yellow print with flowers that matched the salmon orange on the wall. I even made  vinyl plastic slipcovers. That was my 1st and last time. Never sit on them in the heat of summer.

One time I had a black vinyl sofa . I put up wallpaper with medium green ferns with a  beige background. I made a gorilla costume for me which I used on Halloween. But at that time, the gorilla sat on the couch in front of the ferns so he looked like he was in the jungle.

My bedroom was medium blue and white which matched my floor.

 As time went on  as did places of living, my room became a haven of lilac and white. Besides working , going to school, raising my children, and volunteer in the community,  I did  find time to sew.

  Moving seems to have been happened way too many times in my life. I always wanted a Campbell Soup kitchen with the Soup kids on the wall as cup holders .Black and white checked floors so I could create large checkers  and play on the floor with my grandchildren. .. But that never happened. The closest I got were mugs  and decorations. Now things are beige - very boring, not inspiring. Been like that for the past few years no matter where I lived.

My dream is to have my own place.  A place that has storage and is filled with color. A place where I can get my grandchildren's swing set out of storage, paint it a new bright color,  and place it next to my colorful house. .  A place where I can have veggie and flowers gardens filled with color- almost like taking Farmville 2 and putting that into reality.

Years ago a fortune teller told me that someday I would have a large place with each room a different color.  I am still waiting. I am also waiting for the green.

My blogger page GrammieLois'sOffice is lilac and white. I love lilac.  Inspiration to a point.

Just days ago , an unexpected inspiration came along. Now I am all fired up to create again. On Facebook, a wonderful person posted a pic of a super large kitchen of bright purple, white and silver. My heart danced. I felt ALIVE. I felt powerful. I felt like ME . Me who used to have so many creative messages  on my answering message that a certain Lawrence politician used to call just to listen to the new one of the day.

Now I wish I had a large pic of that kitchen sitting on my desk or at my sewing machine. Now I have to just find the post  and look at it every day .

 Now that I am more inspired, maybe I can figure out how to get that green paper that we all are looking
 for . Or the pot of gold. That way I can get that powerful kitchen of purple.

Until next time,

Lois

PETEY AND GUADALUPE by Lois M. Valentin

PETEY AND GUADALUPE by Lois M. Valentin 

Where do I begin? The middle?  The end?  The beginning ?  Perhaps somewhere in between.

I am PJ McClaren. Everyone calls me PJ but that is not my name. Not many people can pronounce it, not even my parents, so that is why I am PJ . I used to hate it as it reminded me of pajamas. You know- pj’s.  LOL.

Right now I am  a silvery white haired woman who still lives in the same old place as my parents and grandparents did. I grew up here.  My memories of life are intertwined with every part of this house and land.

 Today was an unusual day.

 The little boy next door came to the house wanting to do odd jobs to make some money. Usually he sells   lemonade in front of his house but he can no longer do that because of some silly city ordinance that  to sell any food you have to have special permits, etc. Bah humbug!  He made the best lemonade. Secret recipe he always said when questioned. Haven’t have lemonade like that since I was a little girl.

    “ Carlos, you can help me clear this small path. I forever keep this path clear and clean. There’s a bench at the end near the tree where I sit every day. Been doing that for decades. But I could always use some help .  If you help me regular, then count on getting paid regular. “

  Carlos thought and agreed. Then shook hands. A deal is a deal.

  He called his dad who said he would be by to pick him up later.

  When Carlos and I were clearing the path, I noticed he was wearing an old 1/2 medallion from a chain on his neck. It glistened in the sun. I have one almost like that.

 When finished, he and I sat on the bench and looked at the flowers.

 “ My friend and I planted these flowers years ago when we were little girls. Still to this day they blossom and grow so beautiful.”

 “ They are beautiful and they smell so good”.

  “ Carlos. Carlito”

  “ Coming papa”

  Carlos and I walked to the gate to where his father was waiting. As introductions were being made, I thought he looked so familiar. Where have I seen him before?

 “ I am Carlos Sr. , but please call me Juan. I am called Juan after one of my mother’s friends“

 “ Juan, Carlos and I were just finishing up our work. Would you mind if he stays a bit longer so he can make me some lemonade?  I will bring him home myself."

 “ That’s okay. No problem. “

 After his father left, Carlos and I finished our outside work then went inside.

  Carlos looked around as I put all the lemonade supplies on the counter.

  “ I have a pic like this at my house. It’s on the mantel of the fireplace.”

 I froze. Could it be?

 Best lemonade there is. I had Carlos make a large pitcher so I could have it for the rest of the day.

 As we were loading up the car so I could take Carlos home, his pendant glistened again.

 “ Papa, I am home”.

“ Hello again, PJ”

 “ Hello , Juan”.

 “ Papa, PJ has a pic like this one on a table in her living room.”

 “ She does”?

  I froze. Indeed it was. It was the same pic of two little girls. Excitement filled my heart.

  “ That’s a pic of my mother when she was little.  I was born late into her life. She died when I was 10. My dad raised me. He died a few years ago. The portrait on the wall was painted by my mother. It was her last one. They say she was famous but to me she was and is mom. I put flowers there every day as we could never find her grave.”

 “ Carlos, may I please see your pendant for a minute”?

  Carlos and Juan look strangely as I turned it over. Indeed. On the back was written Petey.

Excitement and curiosity filled the air when I took off my pendant and turned it over. On the back was written Guadalupe. Putting them together they matched.

  “ Juan. Carlos.  Can you please come back to my house? I have to show you something”

  They followed me home in their car.

  “ What’s going on” Is it a surprise?

  “ You’ll see.”

  I was glowing with excitement.  I pulled out a white binder I had on the shelf. In it were many childhood pictures. Pictures of Petey and Guadalupe. Pictures of Guadalupe and myself.

 I opened the door to the locked room. This time Juan and Carlos froze. This room was a dedication to my long time childhood friend. On the walls I had hung many of her portraits that she painted throughout her years.  Each one told  a story of an event in her life.

Amazement and excitement filled the air. Tears ran down my face as I realized that the baby in one of the portraits was in fact Juan . Tears ran down their faces , too.

 “ Juan and Carlos, can you please come with me to the bench at the end of the path. Bring the shovel . We must hurry.”

 At the base of the tree, Guadalupe and I had buried a time capsule. It was agreed whenever it got dug up, the items would be sold and the money would be split fifty fifty.

Carlos and Juan dug until they hit the chest. Actually at the time of its burial, Guadalupe and I called it a treasure chest. They pulled it out of the ground so we could open it in the house.

“ Carlos, do you remember you said you could never find your mother’s grave. Please look at the stone which was just in back of the flowers . “

 On the stone was hand carved “ Guadalupe”.

 “ Every day I come here to sit with my best friend and tell her of my day. Guadalupe was cremated. This is her burial place. This is where she wanted to be buried. We hand carved our own stones when we were teenagers. Mine is on the shelf under this bench. Guadalupe’s stone used to sit on the now empty shelf under the other bench. Her bench.

I had Juan take out my stone so everyone could see it. Hand carved was “ Pietra Jane” with a line going thru it. Under it was carved” Petey”. Petey was what Guadalupe called me. It was my childhood name.

 Tears ran down everyone’s face. Juan has his mother. Carlos has his grandmother . And I have the family of my best friend, Guadalupe.

THE SUMMER OF HELL

THE SUMMER OF HELL : Another move is in the Future  by Lois M. Valentin


 As some of you know, I had to move AGAIN at the beginning of summer. The reasons why are plentiful but private. The chaos of moving went from 2 weeks to almost the entire summer. Storage units . Hotel rooms. hotel rooms with AC.  Beds, Floors. The car in  90 degree weather. Fire drills. Lockouts.  Sharing. Perseverance. Both communication and non-communication. Survivalists. Goals. Brainstorms. Anger. Hopefulness vs hopelessness. Tears and comfort.. Prayers. Lack of money. Bathrooms. Hand can openers. Microwave. Wi-Fi. Coffeemaker. Libraries. Laundry .

New Apt. Yard filled with garbage. Garbage cleaned up. Needed to get own garbage barrels because none were supplied. Some neighbors still haven't, so it seems.

Neighbors. Children. Bikes. Dogs and cats. Parents in building sitting on porch.  Ahh! The sound of life.

The power goes out a lot and the smoke alarm goes on a lot. . The landlord said to my face that there has never been a problem with the electricity here.

Now it is Sept. A neighbor is moving out. Electric company was going to shut my electricity off for nonpayment yet all my bills are payed 100% up to date. What the heck was going on?

A neighbor has lived here 3 months and has never received a bill.

A MAJOR SNAG. My acct is connected to a meter which was labeled on the outside wrong. The meter itself is connected to another apt. The actual apt # , my address was listed in the company's data as being another apt in the front.   A loop check was done of all apts. No one's acct, address, meter or labeling were correct. A total mishmash of errors by whoever.  Now the waiting game. Waiting for the worker's system data to get into the company's data- then watch for the bills. A meter reading had been previously scheduled for a few days after.  The worker said it would take 24 hrs to get through the system and they might scrap that month's bill and start fresh from that date. The person at the company's phone said it doesn't work that way. It might take months. And yes, we will have to pay the bills- even though the meters had been  associated with someone else's apt.

We either will get the same, lower or higher bills.  Any bets on what I will get?

Until next time.

Lois