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.