Why "Clemie's Girl?"

Everyone keeps asking why my blog is called Clemie's Girl. I figured I post my explanation then when friends and family ask I'll know if they are really reading the blog. hehehe.
When I was a kid my grandparents were very important people in my life. My grandpas were always there spoiling me, especially Grandpa Ballard, but it was my strong grandmas that have made a deep impression on me as an adult women. They were much to busy to spend time spoiling a kid, but they both told great stories of the ways they survived being poor.
Grandma Ballard would sit in her comfy chair, hand sewing on a quilt, snacking on Fritos, telling me about her trip out to California from Oklahoma, going to church as a girl or about the girl that washed her face with pee to keep it white. In her day it was fashionable to have really white skin rather than the suntans that were so popular in the eighties. She always found a way to keep everyone feed and warm no matter how little she had. And her house smelled like a warm meal. It was my heaven on earth.
Grandma Sally, on the other hand, never sat still in front of me. She was always busy cooking, canning, sewing or working in her family grocery store. She was practical beyond belief. She truly believed we should all marry rich men because she was sure we could, "fall in love with a rich one as easy as a poor one." She could crack up at the silliest thing. She never fell for trends in fashion always claiming as long as your clothes were clean it didn't matter what the style was. She never wasted anything. Years after she passed family members were still eating her canned goods.
Neither of them put up with nonsense as there simply wasn't time or energy left for it at the end of the day. They weren't "huggy-snuggy" type grannies at all. You knew how much they loved and cared about you by the way they took care you--feeding you homemade meals, fixing the hole in your favorite jeans, making sure you had a comfy bed to sleep in and telling you the stories of their life.
I sense their mothers were as strong and practical as they were. Grandma Ballard's voice took on a reverence when she talked about her mama, Big Mama. She seemed bigger than life to me, almost god like. And the stories I've heard about Clemie, Grandma Sally's mom, were always funny and practical. Given that strength and practicality were necessary survival skills for the poor people of their time, they must have had these qualities. Plus, who else could have raised my grandmothers. I have always felt those strong woman watching over me, both of my grandmas joining them when they past away.
Coming from this long line of really strong women I often felt I like I didn't measure up to the legacy they left for me. When I was deep into my metal illness I always figured they were disappointed with me for not being strong enough to overcome it. I wrongly thought since I had their strength I should overcome my mental illness on my own. I finally figured out seeking help--admitting that I needed help--took more strength and effort than I could have ever thought possible. All of the strength I used to take care of myself I now see came from my grandmothers. Every since I have been taking care of my mental illness I feel them smiling up there saying things like, "That's my girl!" So that it, I am Clemie’s Girl now.

"I'm a 'flippin' mermaid!"

We are fortunate enough to live where we have this wonderful yard with all kinds of landscape features. Central Oregon finally got some summer weather this week so when the grands wanted to fill up the stream style water feature in the front yard I was all for it. One of Ev's current obsessions are mermaids, so as soon as she saw my camera she started posing like a mermaid. When she saw the pics she was giddy with pride. So much so that when her Great Grandma and Auntie arrived she shouted, “You won't believe the pictures Gram took. I look like a 'frickin' mermaid." Maybe she is spending too much time hanging out with all of the teenagers around here??!!

Ahhh the joy of summer. As anyone who lives in Oregon knows nothing compares to the elusive joy of finding Hoods at you local farmer's market. Hoods are summer. They are what summer tastes like: delicate, sweet and juicy. They melt on your tongue. If summer has a smell it is the sweet smell of these berries. Their red color is as bright as the summer sun. And they are gone in the blink of an eye, just like summer herself. Perfection in one small berry. Their short season, the fact that they don't keep well enough for stores to carry them and their popularity among Oregonians all contribute to the Hoods elusive nature which is much like a glittering garden fairy. Finding them elicits the same delight. I was lucky enough to find some last week at the farmer’s market. Hoods, not garden fairies. The kids ate about a third of the flat in one evening. The next morning I was able to cut the rest of them up for home made ice cream. YUMM!


If you are ever so lucky as to find Hoods at your farmer's market be sure to follow the rules of Hoods as they are a delicate treat to be treasured.

The Rules of Hoods

1. Make sure they were picked the morning of purchase.

2. Get them home A.S.A.P.

3. Never put them in a trunk or let them get hot in a car.

4. Use them as soon as you get home.

5. Let everyone eat as many as they want because they won't be fresh and yummy for more than a day.

6. Remember how sweet they are and adjust the sugar in your recipe to accommodate them.

Hand-in-Hand

Today I had the pleasure of walking to the playground in my neighborhood with Ev and Hari. It always amazes me how much I learn from these sweet and sometimes sour little ones. Lately Hari has been uber independent. I've been doing my best to encourage her even though it's against my nature. So all the way to the park I let her hold Ev's hand instead of mine as she wished. They looked so incredibly adorable walking in front of me hand-in-hand. Because they look so much like their mothers, I expect them to act much differently than they do.
I expect Ev to be athletic, dare-devilish and too busy to stop and notice the little things, yet she never walks by a bug she doesn't have to inspect and she is the one that nearly poked her eyeball into the sewer through a manhole hole to see what was down there. She stops to observe everything--including globs of cut wet grass that she refers to as "dragon poop."  She packed her book in my bag in case she found a nice shady tree to sit under and read just like her Auntie Lysa used to. She tried to get Hari to listen as she told us a tale about the mushrooms and the microscopic worms that live inside it, but Hari wasn't having it.
Hari was much to busy chasing her favorite ball that is bigger than she is. She insists on bringing it to the park every time we go. She simply does not have the time to plant seeds in the grass when there is so much open space to run away from Gram in. She is very orderly in her park play. She goes from one activity--slide, show Gram a trick, ride the seahorse, swing--to the next in the same order over and over.
Today that all ended when she saw Ev climb up the slide. From that point on climbing up the slide was Hari's single goal. Because of her independent spirit she likes me to stay back as she plays. I'd be more comfortable much closer to her than she likes me to be. On the walk over I was thinking about how giving her the freedom she is asking for would help build her self-confidence. So with that fresh on my mind I stayed back as Hari struggled over and over to get up the slide. I encouraged her verbally, but stayed back. I was feeling like the world's best Gram. I looked over at Ev taking my eyes off Hari for just a second and heard that thump all mamas hate to hear at the playground. In her attempt to pull herself up the slide by grabbing the bar she flipped herself off at about three and a half feet. ARGGG! One would think I'd know better than to get cocky. While I rushed over to "help" Hari up she simply got up crying, dusted herself off still crying and proceeded to try to climb the slide again despite her tears. This time I learned my lesson, trusted my instincts and gave her a little help. I was thinking I'd lost the opportunity to build her confidence but when she reached the top she got the biggest I did it grin and started clapping while chanting, "Hari!" It appears she realizes getting a little help now and then doesn't take away your glory. She is a little dare-devil trickster like her Auntie Coie was at her age.
So I learned it's unlikely I'll ever figure out how to perfectly support these girls as they grow into women but that it's okay because they'll give me a little help when I need it and they'll certainly challenge everyone of my expectations. Not bad for a trip to the playground.

Spring or Fall: A New Unschool Year Begins

As it is the beginning of our unschool year we will be doing all sorts of fun new stuff. We are continuing letterboxing, flat traveling, visiting John Day Fossil Beds, being actively involved in COOL--our local unschooling group, learning to draw with the Monart system, researching our family tree, completing some of our science kits and keeping a lab book on them, volunteering at the High Desert Museum with the birds of prey, learning to play either the bag pipes(Sam first choice) or Guitar(a backup) and learning babysitting basics so Sam can save for a Mustang. He's only 12 but he's determined that his first car will be a 65 Mustang Fastback so he's going to start earning $$ by babysitting his niece.
I am also beginning many new endeavors on my own. I am taking some classes at the community college, blogging & making crafts to sell at a Christmas craft show. I'll also be making diapers for my latest grandson whom we expect Nov. 13.
With all of these new beginnings it feels more like Spring than Autumn. That's okay though, I take my joy wherever I find it.
Watch for our flat traveler posts!!