Norman Rockwell, Piggy- n -Dirt America, & Anorxia?

I just read this post and can tell I am tapering off prednisone and it isn't pretty. The Stars are, however. 

(She's a Grand ol Flag. My son would dig this in his room. Or I would seeing it in his room for Flag day and then the 4th. Piggy and Dirt on etsy just make me proud to be American)

 





* I am just putting this rough draft post out there. Edit later. (This morning)

 

** I am editing and adding. (This evening.)

***editing still (another evening)
**** *started to edit on a Thursday sometime in June, again)
 



READERS!

It is officially here!

(Piggy and Dirt on etsy just made gardening easier!) 

Summer !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!



which immediately makes me think of


Norman Rockwell


which makes me think of  

baseball.

(C-ya winter clothes! Welcome swimsuit, I mean House Dress Season The MuMu has nothin' on you, girl!)

 

 

You Can't More Get More America Than This:

 

(reading to kids and teaching them, of course. Pic courtesy of somewhere off Google  but by Norman.)


Unless You Summer School
(you could also use every day, moment or minute with them to teach. hm. where is J.?

 

What more could

 

'America' say than:

 

(photo courtesy of Kurt & Rebecca who won't stop making America great with their stars on etsy.com)

 

 

 "punggg"???????????????????????
(J. gave me the translation of the spelling of the sound.)

the bat hitting the ball, the young kid (or adult) briefly wants to follow the balls departure but because that wastes time, drops the expensive, flashy chosen bat in order to run to the first bag.

Which is First base for non-sports people Readers.
And some sports people who get turned around and then run blindly to third.


(Tiny Tee Ball Tots can be deterred by the smallest thing like dirt that needs to be kicked up. Or grass to pull out in center field. Can you imagine something like this huge sparkler display? America has to start somewhere! Norman Rockwell couldn't just paint adults!)
gpb.org thanks for the picture.


What more can Old Glory
Shout?


(relocation-tips.com courtesies us with this blinding photo that makes my aching eyes need to dim the computer or put on my cocoon sunglasses. And then use a magnifying glass to read what I have put in parenthesis...)

Can she endure the

Cheer,  hoop,  holler from the dug out
will she look passed
 the drunken adults buying tiny tots things because they are cute despite being complete strangers?

Will
She brave the tense,  hushed
moment when the batter and fans await the fate of the white ball; its red stitching spiraling into the sky?

Does the fans'

explosion of  joy,



(photo by dreamstime.com)

as they rise from their seat, standing as

one

Surprise Her?

Or

does the sound of that cheer,

due to the unlikely hero bringing all walks of life together in a ball park smelling of popcorn and a large mascot making kids cry; make

Her proud
to be America to us?



If America,  & the

Dream

 that includes even a scrawny, sweaty sock wearing kids/ can hit a homer
and

not only steal a base but steal a glance of that

 patriotic ball


(4vector.com wow I need to dim the computer more)


as it flies over a fence  baring the names of local businesses and into the clamor of glove wearing kids ready and scrambling to catch it

 if it didn't end up in the front seat of one of the fans now standing in the stadium seats?


(Frank Sullivan- courtesy of 59toppsblog.blogspot.com)

Does she

 think of the movie, The Natural as the lights start to spark in a firework show as Robert Redford  jogs around the bases and it's summer somewhere not in Idaho?

 

 

 

 

(courtesy of asfl,org)

  the 'thud'  or clap of a curve ball sneaking passed the batter in his protective batters box, helmet,  and butterflies in the pit of his stomach.

 

 the clap/snapped by the leg aching pitcher's mitt, dirt rising in the sweltering air as he stands in
All America Armored gear, to lob it back to

the man on the mound??

(Picture courtesy of epicdash.com. Norman Rocwell gem.)

(do you see all the protection these guys have to wear ? Let alone hold up fingers for the pitcher to see for a play? )

 that's America- we can fit hand signals between two tons of armor, play catch & save your nation. )


(Pic courtesy of Piggy & Dirt on etsy)

BASEBALL/AMERICA= same thing.

What could be more American than a ball, rainbow sailing and then lodging itself in the top rungs of the fence? I don't know the sound of that but J. stole third and then home and was perturbed.
 

 

(The Reagan Star )

I know what you are thinking: Amanda, J. has been playing baseball already.
 

Yes, J. has been in baseball  but that time was during the spring and school was in session and it was hot for a week which we Idahoans don't know what to do during baseball season and it's warm

No, NOW it is the hot, muggy mouth dry gritty teeth and sweat mixed with the smell of a mitt feeling while watching J. play from inside of the truck as a dust storm wells up before a down pour on a nice, expensive leather mitt.

 

Readers, economics from economically could times can't compare America at her best.
(Which was what I just summarized of America at her best-
sorry I'm not able to get out of the cab right now. But I'm working on it.)


(communitytable.com thanks for the picture. I now realize a blog post can be edited to death.)

 

 

The other day we had a "mini" America moment when we watched my nephew play T-Ball.

Talk about adorable. AHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!! Mini (s)

 

 

(Piggy & Dirt's Flag minis. On etsy. I would hang these across Padre's porch in a heart beat.  But then they could get stolen they are so adorable and cute. And mini)

 

waiting in the heat for a ball that has been knocked off the T and then rolled passed the pitcher, rover, and into some green, green grass.

 

Yes, Reader it has been raining here as if it were Seattle or something.

 

*

in fact,

 

The ball player just walked in after some thunder and lightning. No ballgame tonight. However he got wet enough to smell All American! Then come and hang out in my room.

 

The rain has meant that the dry desert areas have exploded like fireworks with beautiful hues of green. Madre and I were admiring the scenery out east of town while at a stop light the other day as we did a marathon of appts. , got a boy picked up and into his clean uniform, then dropped off to warm up America with some baseball.

 

 

 

 

 

 Now that J. has graduated from school for summer to play ball in summer- it's officially summer. (Which is swim suit season but for me it is MuMu dress season! wooooo-hoooo!!!!!!!!!!!! Good-bye uncomfy hello house dress!)
 

 

(Norman's painting: Russian Schoolroom. I wonder if J. was attentive or was he like the third boy on the right... I hope so! Think hard about why, Readers..... Rockwell took pictures of his subjects and then painted. This is done in charcoal & glaze! LOVE the symbolism.)

 

Which makes me think of Rockwell.

And it makes me feel like I let you Readers down. I had hoped this blog to be like his paintings. It was said that he paint things how he "wished they would be."

 

Instead I have inundated you with things like talking about my disease. Like right now, I am drinking some stuff righ now that is the chalky stuff to coat my throat. I wish I could become tiny and go in there with sidewalk chalk and just color in all the areas in my mouth on down. Which reminds me of being in elementary and tasting chalk and liking it. Good thing, eh?

 

(Piggy & Dirt's spidey, web/lazer show of Patriotic-ness stars using red leaded pencils. Who knew? buy it on etsy)

 

However, I didn't keep my word

to you, Readers!

 

In fact, I have talked about J. and I being hit in our car, which is taboo in the world of insurance adjusters; law; irrigation, I mean litigation; &  taught you new words like: Manometry instead of Geometry, which would have helped you more than knowing about a garden hose with tire treads on it which is what a Manometry is.
WEll, feels like if you have white blood cells attacking tissue in that area.

 

But how do I keep it real on here

 if I can't tell you my head was whipped like chamois when I sat in a parked car in front of the hospital; mom had gotten out to come around to let me out of her parked truck and when she went to grab my purse in the cab of Padre's truck; I felt like I'd had a stroke or Idaho was getting an earthquake cause the car door went forward and then back.
 

I mean, like, really.
For real?

 

That kind of stuff Padre warns against: public info. out there to the public online out there for everyone to see what you hung on the line.

(He just doesn't know FB, Readers) 

 

What would Mark Twain do ?


(wikiart.com)



EXACTLY
What if,  in his childhood or adulthood, he was on a river and the raft he and his friend were on was hit by another raft?

Would he have left that out of his writing or used the experience to name one of his children or perhaps change his own name because he made a fuss about it and it was kind of catchy?

 

Right.

 

Speaking of baseball,
Wait. I thought we'd moved on. Let's move back to it.

I am starting to feel nervous with all the advice Padre has given me and I have tossed like a receipt for ice through a Drive-Thru.

Let's talk America. I mean baseball.

Before I get too far away from talkin' Padre, I have some good Padre news. Yes. It is official that, after enduring four long months of ancy-ness due to shoulder surgery; the Telephone Man is retiring. )

 

(freerepublic.com featuring Norman's work of a worker like Padre: The Jefe Worker of the Fam.

 

but it deserves a blog post all its own. There aren't enough Readers willing to sit through two topics outta me, Reader.)

 

 

As far as Norman's paintings- I have been looking at some of them and I am not seeing one with a Mu-Mu on a woman. Wait, I found this one..... it comes sorta close.

 



 



(Norman Rockwell's. Latimesblogs.latomes.com- I have never seen this one. What is it called?)

Who has the Campbell soup girl face. (i.e. Cushings Disease is actually called The Ugly Disease but I am changing that, Readers. )

 

Well, since Norman didn't paint those I have to move on to the good news and bad news portion of my post today!

 

Let's just go with the bad news first. I am making some serious life style changes, Readers. How can that be bad? Well, I have decided to help my body out and not eat things that singe it for right now.

 

It hasn't been that hard of an adjustment. Well with the white rice the other day at least. After I chewed and chewed, manually making it into Horchata (best drink ever), I was too tired to take more than a few bites.

 

The rest of the fam got take out too.

I just salivated.

Is this how anorexia feels?


That's the bad news too. Readers!

Food is SO good.

Good food is All

AMERICA, READERS!

So good, that you feel like you are fasting for a worthy cause or it is the one day out of the month for

The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints

 to fast so they can give the money they would have used eating cake and potatoes to the Church.

If I hadn't thought about it, I probably would not have cared that stomach acid was eating it....

 In fact, didn't up until I have felt relief from my GI (not Joe)

 dilate my esophagus

so I wouldn't choke or aspirate or have to roll a towel under my neck while I slept in my

 La- Z- Girl chair which happens to be named Buck.
Don't ask.

In America we can even name our chairs. You can't get more America than that.

Uhhhhhnnnnlessss  Norman Rockwell is painting some Baseball.