Adventures With Trot

At some point during the day today, Trot decided to pee in the toilet standing up.

For anyone without kids or who only has girls, this may not seem that big of a deal.

However, if you've ever been 8 inches away from a 2 year old boy while he SITS on the toilet and tries to pee, this is a HUGE development.

Imagine if you will a child who still thinks it's funny to go on the living room floor, sitting on a toilet and trying to go INTO a commode while his equipment isn't exactly ready to do anything other than shoot dead ahead.

This is the bathroom equivalent of throwing a football through a tire swing being moved by a tornado; the odds aren't in your favor. Remember Ralph Machio in the "Karate Kid" trying to catch a fly with a pair of chop sticks? Multiply that times 1,000 and you may come close to the odds of Trot NOT peeing on you, the floor, or the bathroom cabinets sitting down.

When he's standing up?

You know that feeling you get when Big Papi comes to bat in a clutch situation and you just KNOW he's gonna come through?

This is even better.

Friday Night Ramblings

I'm beyond thrilled The Captain agreed to come back to Boston for at least one year and more than likely two. I'm sure Scott Boras dragged this whole thing out with phantom "other offers" and promises to Tek that he'd rule the world like Dr. Evil by the time all was said and done, but I'm glad we've got a 150 pound nerd running the team who stood his ground. That said, part of me imagines Boras trying to negotiate a cut of the gross Polish sausage sales sold at Fenway each night as part of Varitek's contract.

Is it wrong of me to wish he would fall into a crocodile tank at the nearest zoo in the near future?

Why do I, after having been double charged on my debit card at the Taco Bell window for the exorbitant of $10.31 cents, have to fax a copy of MY bank statement to TB corporate AND fill out a dispute form at my bank? When it was THEIR employee who can't operate a credit card machine (you swipe, key in the amount, and hit enter. I'm fairly sure Rakes could do this while at the same time playing Star Wars Lego's and eating a fudgecicle.) It's the equivalent of 2 #4 combos on the value meal board; besides, you are freaking TACO BELL! It's moments like this I'm glad I'm 5 foot nothing and weigh what the average 5th grader does.

Can someone, ANYONE, explain to me why it takes a car over 5 full seconds to decide to accelerate through an intersection? You drive a car, not a cart pulled by a donkey; press your right foot down and MOVE people.

If you don't have enough money for a down payment, aren't moving until after July 4th, or don't know how much room you have in your house for furniture, can I ask the following question?

Why in God's name are you taking up 2 hours of my time while I try to sell you furniture? I have a wife, 3 kids, a mortgage, and a MLB Package bill coming due in a few months. Seriously; I gotta eat. And if you think wasting my time while you window shop is getting me any closer to buying the Nutra Grain Bars Trot wants to eat for breakfast each morning you have lost your mind.

After watching "Wife Swap" tonight, two things sprang to mind. Number 1 is why in the name of all that is pure am I watching this drivel? And 2; there are several kids spread out across the Nation who are going to need serious professional help before they reach legal voting age.

Finally, if Ang and I ever got the chance to participate in this show, I am sure of two things. One, Ang would totally win over the family she would go to. And two?

It's a complete toss up whether me or the Axis of Evil would cause the other person to completely lose it on national tv.

I think I'll go and put our application in now. 'Cause either way?

It's a win/win.

Maybe They'll Name A Comet After Me

Ciera got accepted into the Duke Tip program yesterday, which only takes the top 5% of each grade. Best I can tell this is going to cost me about $40 a month and entails her and one of her parents attending a summer camp this year; that said, I couldn't be prouder.

Rakes was actually good every day at playschool this week, got his obligatory sticker, and his choice out of the prize box. First time for everything I guess.

Trot took a 2 1/2 hour nap today without wearing a diaper and didn't cause Ang to change his sheets, the comforter, and have to have his room re-carpeted. If I can get him out of diapers I may be able to buy that 2 litre bottle of Mt Dew yet.

I've got to sleep in my bed and not the couch for over a month, we're going out on a date come Saturday, and Ang left me a sweet note in my lunch every day this week but today. (I grabbed a tv dinner in her defense, so there really wasn't any reason to write me anything.)

David Wells is threatening bodily harm to Joe Torre for writing this book everyone is in a snit over, along with the Yankees contemplating a clause in future contracts that basically say "You can't say anything bad about us or we'll sue you, take your house, and make sure you finish your days destitute and in constant ridicule."

Is it any wonder I keep waiting for an asteroid to hit my house, IRS agents showing up at my door, and Ang to call me at work and tell me the pipes just burst?

My luck can't continue to be this good.

I Got Nothing

For once, Rakes and Trot were halfway normal today.

Ciera didn't run off and get her ears pierced, nobody had to go to the ER, and Ang doesn't need therapy or a drink to go to bed.

LOST was on and I got to watch every minute, work actually went OK, and everybody got to bed at a half way decent hour.

Tek still hasn't signed, Mikey is ahead of schedule and Pedroia still thinks he's 6 foot tall and bullet proof.

Basically, my world is essentially unchanged, save for an episode of LOST that still has me scratching my head. Which isn't really that unusual; most episodes of LOST end with me doing the same thing.

Until tomorrow, I leave you with this.

Next year finally came in 2004.



Spring Training?

Take me away.

We'll leave the light on for you.

After leaving the house at 8:30 am and arriving home at 7:30 pm, I came in through the garage door and saw this image.

Except what I saw was Ciera in the chair on the end in her pajamas, Rakes on the floor between the 2nd and 3rd barstool eating a bowl of ice cream and Ang in a fetching blue jogging suit at the sink on the left, elbow deep in soap suds scrubbing a crock pot.

And Trot eating a fudgecicle in the last stool by the refrigerator.

In a sweatshirt. And Bob the Builder underoos. And that was it.

How come I never saw Ward Cleaver come home to the same thing? June was always in a dress and pearls with the feather duster out and Wally and the Beav looked like they were ready to go to Communion.

Did I mention Trot had such a wicked case of bed head he looked like the demon seed of Johnny Rotten and Sid Vicious?

Dear God, please let Truck Day get here.

Soon.

The Sound of Silence Being Shattered

I'd like to apologize to the elderly gentleman that was sitting in the chair reading his paper, the nice older woman sitting nearby at the table looking at her book, and to the poor librarian that was roughly 10 feet away while we were in your area today.

It was just bad timing and bad luck on your part for happening to be sitting in the section where I was looking for the Dennis Lehane books. Look, I know you're supposed to talk quietly in the library; and yes, my kids do too. I also realize that any loud noises are generally not found in the Fiction section of the local branch.

But when your son, in the middle of such quiet you could have heard a snowflake land, rips off a fart that sounds like a Goose in heat being fired upon by a 12 gauge shotgun? Then all bets are off.

Although the giggle fit all 3 of us had afterwords was completely unacceptable.

*This post is dedicated to my good friends Bridget and Beth, who are the best librarians I've ever known*

I've been thinking. Which can't be good.

In a shocking development today, Trot actually took a nap longer than your average coffee break, Rakes stayed in the toy room watching "Prince Caspian" or "Saw V" (I'm not really sure which one, but he was quiet and subdued and sometimes that's about all you can ask for) and I actually had time to think and watch "Gran Torino" on the computer.

Yes, I watched it on the computer. And no, I'm not saying how; I've spent the last 4 hours peeking through the mini-blinds waiting for a 4 door coup to come screeching into my driveway while 6 guys wearing matching Brooks Brothers suits and RayBans proceed to bang on my front door.

Anyways, I came to the realization I spent the first 28 years of my life wishing time would hurry up and the last 10 wishing it would freaking slow down. Yesterday I brought Ciera home from the hospital and today she's 10 going on 30 and I'm a year and a half away from 40 years old.

I spent the first 34 years of my life wondering if the Red Sox would ever win a World Series while I had enough marbles left to remember it to wondering if they could go back to back last fall.

I'd always dreamed of going to Fenway, and not only did I get to go, but I got to go to 4 games in one season, including a playoff game. And I'm going back AGAIN in May.

20 years ago I was a dumb kid with no idea I'd be meeting the love of my life in a few months (even if neither one of us would realize it) and would one day have 3 kids, a mortgage, the beginnings of a bleeding ulcer and more gray hair than I care to admit to.

The point of all this? I have no idea. I watched a movie and all these thoughts just sort of started ping ponging around my head; I guess if I wanted to really try and figure it out I'd go see a head doctor tomorrow and see what they tell me.

Problem with that is, by the time tomorrow gets around to showing up I'll have dealt with about 300 new conflicts, wondered for the 1,549th time whether Tek is coming back next year, and will have said something that causes Angie to throw a frying pan at me by 8 a.m. So I figure I'll just let it go and hope for the best.

I just hope one day when I'm pushing 80 years old I'll have the opportunity to utter the following sentence:

"Get off of my lawn."

A little over 2 weeks until pitchers and catchers report.

I just may make it.

Anybody Got A Paper Bag I Can Breathe In?

After dealing with Rakes decorating the walls and carpet with lipstick, urinating on the garage floor, and dropping trou to chase his sister around the house while giggling like a maniac I held out hope that Trot was going to be our "easy child".

Hope promptly gave me a round house kick to the marbles, kissed my wife, and took my wallet as he left.

God help me, I think he may be worse than Rakes ever was. And it's not even going to be close.

In addition to whizzing in a vase in his room, using the door mat in front of the laundry room as his personal fertilizing field and wanting to run in place in the toilet, the last few days have brought home the realization that we may be raising TWO future stars of video's on YouTube entitled "Hey! Watch This!"

After taking Ciera to school yesterday, I ran back home to get my lunch and get on the computer for a few minutes. Ang is in bed with a migraine, Rakes is in the toy room destroying the Death Star on the PS2, and Trot is somewhere upstairs yelling "Rakes! Come FIND me!"

Instead of Rakes, it was me who in fact found him. In the linen closet. With ALL the sheets strewn about on the floor, there he was, lying on the bottom shelf with his legs crossed, hands on his chest with a look of absolute giddiness on his face. Have you ever tried to read a child the riot act while trying to stifle a fit of the giggles? Trust me, it isn't as easy as it sounds.

Later that day, Ang, who had turned her back to answer the phone, discovers the laundry room door open and the dryer door laying sideways. It was at this point she saw Trot with the toilet brush and the toilet bowl cleaner merrily cleaning away.

In the middle of the living room floor.

I have no idea if that spot will ever come out; Ang tried for 3 hours and accomplished absolutely nothing. My only hope is the homeowners insurance somehow covers accidents created by children determined to become the next Dennis the Menace.

My doc told me not long ago that in order to relieve my high blood pressure I needed to reduce the stress in my life.

He's a DOCTOR for Pete's sake; he realizes that once they come out you can't get them back in, right?

The Wonderful World of Retail

I came THIS close to committing a felony this afternoon.

After spending close to an hour with a young woman and her two children trying to pick out a sofa and love seat, I had her all set on about a $1,400 deal when her obnoxious mother decided to try and see if I was a UFC fighter in training.

Every time her daughter said "I love it" the Mom said "I hate it. But it's your money; do whatever you want". Every time the daughter said "I really like this color" the Mom said "I hate it". For every utterance of "This is SO comfortable!" by the daughter the Mother said "I'm not sleeping on it, so you can forget about me coming over to watch those kids".

I honestly wanted to hit her over the head with a bottle of ripple. Which is what I was heading to buy as soon as I could get the ditz to shut up. If it's good enough for Fred Sanford, it's good enough for me. Seriously, the lady DIDN'T live with her daughter, wasn't helping BUY the freaking furniture, and kept rushing us because she had to get to a Texas Hold-Em tournament by 6.

If there is any justice she has lost her entire life savings, pawned her beat up jalopy, and is begging her daughter to let her crash on her couch for the next 3 years.

And no, I'm not bitter.

But there needs to be a Hall of Fame for Dinks 'cause this woman is a first ballot shoo in.

You Can't Make This Stuff Up

Tonight, while I was reading Rakes "If You Give A Moose A Muffin" before he went to bed, I noticed he was unusually quiet.

I chalked it up to the late hour, him waking up at 6 this morning, and all the planets were aligned and it was going to be a quiet night.

As I finished the book, he giggled, looked up at me, and uttered the following:

"Dad. Look at my ear inside my ear".

It's going to take a small miracle for him not to appear in an episode of "Jackass" someday.

Get Lost

I wish I had the talent to bang out a consistently funny, laugh out loud blog like Red and Denton do every day at Surviving Grady.

I'd give anything to be able to have the talent of my friend Cyn to write thoughtful and insightful looks at the Boston Red Sox and the city of Boston on a daily basis.

There are not enough creative juices flowing in my body to try and attempt what Kelly O does at Sitting Still and I don't think I'd really want to try. It's tough to beat perfection.

Which leaves me to my blog. I try and write something everyday and usually try to include the resident heathens as much as I can. My long suffering wife Ang gets included every now and again, and I'm always good for a completely un-researched, totally off the cuff with no proof to back it up analysis of the Red Sox in one way or another.

I have horrible grammar and punctuation, don't know my way around the dictionary to save my life, and whenever I get a case of writers block I bring in Miss Hathaway to save the day. My biggest problem is time; I get home at 7:30, spend the next 2 hours either playing with my kids or being assaulted with Light Sabers, cap guns, and gibley shots, and by the time 9:30 rolls around I'm too tired to think, Ang wants to "talk", or I'm watching one of the 4 things on tv I just don't miss.

Red Sox games.

Jack Bauer.

Prison Break (Not really sure how I got into this one. The whole thing has more holes in the plot than the Yankees do in the bullpen)

And a show starting it's season with tonight's season premiere. I've watched every episode now and STILL can't figure out what in the world is going on. Which sort of resembles my life, now that I think about it.

So, with my apologies for another rambling mess of a post that accomplished nothing other than making sure I wrote something?

Time to get LOST.

History

In the most symbolic image I've seen from this historic day, President Bush leaves out on the Presidential helicopter while President Obama, Vice-President Biden and their wives wave goodbye.

No matter what your politics or who you voted for, today is a day of optimism and hope.

A moment to think about what COULD be, not what is.

As I watched more news coverage today than I have COMBINED over the last 6+ years, I was amazed at the throngs of people who braved the cold and the crowds. If I'd been there I'm pretty sure they would have found me on the banks of the Potomac, curled up in the fetal position and chanting "make them all go away".

I'm paraphrasing a friend of mine who didn't vote for Obama, but did say this. A black man is the President of the United States of America. And I know God is smiling right now about that very fact.

Forget politics. Forget Republican and Democrat.

For one day, let's all celebrate the history we witnessed today.

God Bless America.

Baseball is coming

I love baseball.

And I love the concept of the World Baseball Classic. Individual countries with rosters made up of predominately major league players playing for the bragging rights of the best country in the world.

Have it all take place during the dog days of Spring Training? All the better.

I've just got one caveat. I don't want a single Red Sox player participating in this glorified exhibition tournament if I can help it. Mike Timlin in 2006 is still too fresh in my mind. I realize Big Papi will more than likely play for the Dominican team and Jason Bay will be wearing the Canadian uniform. (Bay I can get; how many guys playing in the bigs are actually from Canada to begin with?) Papi I sort of understand as well; dude is a Legend in the Dominican and besides, without him they've got Miguel Tejada and Sammy Sosa bugging the crap out of the poor girl who has to answer the phone having to tell them everyday that while they appreciate the sentiment they've got another direction they've decided on.

So it was with great relief I saw where Papelbon, Jacoby, and JD Drew weren't on the American roster. Yeah, Youk and The Munchkin decided to play but this is not a problem, at least in my eyes.

They took the two guys who, if they weren't selected, would have asked to play every Spring Training game anyway and who most likely spent the offseason playing in pick up games wherever they could find them. In Pedie's case he probably went down to the local schoolyard everyday since the ALCS ended and did his best Kelly Leak impression for all the middle school kids hoping to make the JV squad next year.

All in all I'd say the Red Sox should escape the WBC in pretty good shape.

However, if Pedie doesn't win the WBC MVP all bets are more than likely off.

We are made for TV

Sometime during the 4th quarter of the Cardinals/Eagles game, Ang was trying to tell me something about somebody that has some sort of problem (honestly? I couldn't tell you who. I actually wasn't listening). Meanwhile, Trot is on top of the bar trying to put a toy Batman in the light fixture while Rakes was running around humming the theme song from "Indiana Jones" at the top of his lungs.

Angie, clearly frustrated by her failure to communicate this bit of news to me over the din of the equivalent of the Space Shuttle re-entering the earth's atmosphere walked off and muttered under her breath "I can't even have a conversation with you" as she left.

Ciera, who I had previously thought was in her room at the time, shouted downstairs the following:

"Now you know how I feel!"

THIS is why I'm fairly confident Calgon is filming it's next commercial in my living room.

Mark Teixeira Who?

To go along with his epic facial hair, funking batting stance, and terminally dirty uniform, Youk has a brand new, big time contract.

The whole time Scott Boras was pimping Mark Teixeira as the second coming of Slappy (only this one apparently doesn't turn into Jello pudding in the playoffs) that small, somewhat sane part of my brain kept saying "No. We've GOT a Gold Glove first baseman who's a hitting machine already."

Youk hits for average, has good power, and is a hoover at first base. Plus he's not looking to earn the equivalent of the Federal Bailout Package over the life of his contract and judging from his press conference, the guy seems like he LOVES being a member of the Red Sox.

Last but not least, when the next brouhaha breaks out between the Sox and Rays, who would you rather have charging the mound? Teixeira?

Or the guy who looks a deranged woodsman wearing a baseball uniform?

Here's to several more years of hearing chants of "YOOOOOOOOOUUUK" reverberating off the walls of Fenway Park.

You Can't Make This Stuff Up

Last night, Ciera informed me how much she wants to take a year off after High School before she goes to Juliard to travel Europe with her friend Vanessa. Mind you, she's 10 years old and more than likely will want to study art in Italy by this time next week, but that's really not pertinent to this story.

As she's telling me about how they are going to stay in Paris for a month and go see Big Ben in London, I'm trying to figure out how I'm going to stop this from happening sometime over the next 8 years. Meanwhile, Rakes is sitting next to me and playing his Nintendo DS, seemingly oblivious to everything going on around him.

About the time Ciera gets to the point in her plan where she's dating some dude named Giseppe and thinking about enrolling in the University of Florence or something I'm doing a long, slow burn and thinking about asking God why he decided to give a guy with overprotective tendacies and OCD a daughter.

It's at this point Rakes provides a dose of reality.

Getting up off the couch, never taking his eyes off his game, he utters the following:

"I want to have a camp out in the backyard."

Life really should come with a pause button.

A Letter to The Captain

Tek,

I'm writing this for one reason; come back home.

Yeah, you picked a blood sucker for an agent. And yeah, this off-season hasn't worked out quite like you thought it would.

Who could have seen the economic collapse coming back in October? Other than the 99.9% of us who have to actually work for a living. In an added note, YOU turned down a guaranteed $10 million dollars in arbitration, so I'm not exactly feeling sorry for you right about now.

But I want you back. Red Sox Nation wants you back. And apparently, John Henry wants you back since he's flying to backwater Georgia to try and convince you to drop this multi-million dollar nonsense and come to your senses.

You love this team. You love this fan base.

Are you SERIOUSLY going to let us go into the 2009 season with Josh Bard as the starting catcher? If nothing else, think of the harm it will do to Wake and his fragile mental state.

You are the captain, Tek. Not Papi, not Pedie, and most definately not Papelbon. (I know you don't want a guy who'll parade around Fenway in his boxers with a Bud Light box on his head to lead this team). Tell Boras to go pound sand where the sun don't shine and just sign on the dotted line.

Sincerely,

Your demented #1 fan.

(Hey. It worked for Annie Wilkes.)

What are the odds?

I booked my ticket to Boston for May last night. My connecting flight is JFK airport in New York City.

Today, a plane took off from New York, bound for Charlotte, NC and it crashed into the Hudson River.

Why? Because a bunch of birds got in the way, apparently got sucked into the engines, and it did a belly flop into the water.

Have I mentioned I'm sort of a nervous flier?

We can put men 0n the moon, watch tv on our cell phones, and text message a vote for the top 12 contestants on "American Idol" But we can't design an airplane engine that will keep a freaking bird from getting sucked into it and sending a 747 crashing to the ground?

You're telling me that I can google "Top 50 belly flops into a 4 ft pool" and get 300 responses and we can't design a plane that can handle a stupid bird? Where are my tax dollars going? It's definitely not going toward building a car that can handle a charging deer or an airplane that can deal with a 5 oz. bird getting sucked into a $2.5 million dollar engine.

As the cherry on top of this craptastic sundae, just last night I booked a flight to Boston for May that includes a stop at JFK airport.

In New York City.

Anyone know a "cleaner" I can hire to take out the Seagull population around NYC between now and May?

Mother Nature is overrated.

Let the panic attack's begin

It's official.

I booked my plane ticket for Megapalooza 2009 tonight.

I've already broken out in a cold sweat while imagining getting on another plane for the 3rd time in 12 months.

You'd think I'd have gotten used to it by now.

It's a good thing the airlines don't have a time limit on when it's OK to order an adult beverage.

How can May 21st seem so close, yet so far away?

4 Months is going to FLY by.

Random Tuesday Mutterings

Thanks to my good friend John from New Zealand, my boy Rakes went to bed a happy lil' fella tonight. Seems like he got a letter in the mail today, along with a Red Sox Nation Membership card from "Mr. John". Horsham, I wish I'd had a camera to capture the look I'm sure he had on his face. You made my little man very happy today, and for that I can't thank you enough.

Is it just me or are most of the contestants on "American Idol" in serious need of a lobotomy? Seriously, where do they find these people? Conventions for people who marry their cousins? AA Meetings? Mental hospitals? Ciera and I have a tradition of watching all the tryout shows together and it seems like most of them just get weirder and weirder.

A woman left her wallet at the store today; she had 15 credit cards in it. 5 MasterCard, 4 Visa, 3 American Express, and 3 Discover cards. She either has the best credit I've ever come across or is in debt up to her eyeballs, I'm not really sure. I'm not even counting the various Gap, Macy's, and other department store cards in that thing. My head hurts just thinking about it.

Speaking of headaches, why would someone who just filed for bankruptcy, is on unemployment, and makes $600 dollars a month on social security need a new sofa bad enough they'd want to try and buy it on a lease to own program? What in the name of all that is good and holy is WRONG with people and the way they think?

Congratulations to Derek Lowe for getting 4 years, $60 million from the Braves. They get the ever popular "Derek Lowe Face" for $15 million a year and Boston gets one of the grittiest competitors to ever take the mound in John Smoltz for the relatively paltry sum of $5 million plus incentives; I'd say Theo got the best end of the deal.

Speaking of Smoltzie, here he is speaking about what it's like to be a member of RSN.

Here's to another interview around the end of October.

I'm guessing Butch and Sundance looked like this once.

Along with a picnic lunch and Trot bellowing about Mickey Mouse and a dump truck, I picked Rakes up from playschool for an afternoon at the park today.

We ate half our lunch at the picnic table and the other half in the Dodge rental truck I'm still driving around. (I realize a deer can wreak some havoc, but over a weeks worth? I smell a scam.)

After eating, we hit the playground for the next 2 1/2 hours. Thankfully only a few other families were around. One consisted of a kid I estimate at around 3, his brother who couldn't have been over 16 months, and a Mom and Dad I'm pretty sure I saw on "Wife Swap" about 5 weeks ago. Needless to say, the boys ran them off pretty quick.

I can't confirm this was the reason, but Rakes asking them if they wanted to play Star Wars while Trot bellowed like some 2 ft Chewbacca MAY have been one of the causes they left the park in a vapor trail.

The next victim was some poor little girl in a pink jacket who kept telling Rakes she could climb the rock wall WITHOUT him telling her exactly where to place her foot.

I gotta tell you I was torn between being embarrassed my kids were so obnoxious and overwhelming pride they could aggravate someone so quickly they would actually leave the park.

At the end of the day, it really doesn't matter.

I had a great day with my boys, they had fun, and I wore them both out enough to have the whole house quiet by 8:45 pm.

All in all?

I'd consider the day a success.

It's Time

There are a few words or sentences in life that make this sleep deprived, stressed out Father of 3 happy.

"It's Opening Day!"

"Kids, it's time for bed."

"Play Ball!"

"I love you, Dad."

"Sir, the psychiatrist will see you now."

Today? It's just 3 simple words. Three words you hear everyday, but put in the same context?

They are AWESOME.

It's January 11, 2009.

Jack.

Is.

BACK.

Life in the Fast Lane

It's Saturday night.

It's approximately 9:42 as I'm typing this.

Trot went to bed at 8:30, Ang at 8:45, Ciera at 8:50 and Rakes at 9:10. (He was at a critical point in Star Wars Lego's on the PS2 so he got a last minute reprieve).

I've spent the past 30 minutes watching Harold and Kumar go to White Castle and flipping back to the Panthers/Cardinals playoff game.

Who said being married with children wasn't the real life equivalent of riding the Tilt-a-Whirl?

There is no way I'm lasting until Spring Training.

I think I'm gonna like this guy

Amidst all the news about the Yankees signing CC Sabbathia, AJ Burnett, Mark Tiexiera, Nick Swisher, the ghost of Micky Mantle, the guy that takes the subway tokens at stop 5, and that guy that played Gomer Pyle's best buddy in "Gomer Pyle:USMC", the Red Sox HAVE in fact been a little bit busy.

They re-signed Mark Kotsay, got local boy Rocco Baldelli to fill the 4th outfield spot, and somehow convinced John Smoltz to leave the only team he's ever known in the Atlanta Braves to come to Boston and take over the grizzled vet in the rotation role from Curt Schilling. Without all the, well, Schillingness Curt always brought with him. While I'm sure the beat writers are all crying in their beers over this development, I'm guessing Smoltzie won't have his own blog, call all the local sports shows, and will avoid getting into a public feud with a certain curly haired writer for the Boston Globe.

And while this may make the season a bit more boring, it'll at least mean the drama quotient will be ratcheted down tenfold.

But what I'm most excited about? A guy who went 16-4 in 2007, who can throw 95+ mph, and judging by the picture I posted has a bit of the Josh Beckett red a** in him. Better yet? He was teammates with The Commander and Scenic Lowell in 2003 when the Marlins shocked the world and beat the Yankees in the World Series.

Good pitcher? Check.

Willing to toss a "Welcome to Fenway" pitch at the numbers on Carl Crawford's back? Check.

Fellow member of two guys on the Sox who sent the MFY's into winter wondering what in the world just happened? Check.

Let the Yankees spend the equivalent of the budget of Costa Rica on a pitching staff; I'll take the old, bald headed dude and the guy with something to prove any day of the week.

I can't WAIT for the season to start.

I'm a Moron

This is my THIRD attempt to upload this where somebody, ANYBODY can see it.

Apologies to everyone who's tried, and if it doesn't work this time I'll resort to drawing stick figures.

It really is amazing I can get out of bed and dress myself every day.



The biggest thing I draw from watching this is Trot's enthusiasm for ANYTHING that happens. I think I could tell him we're going outside to look at the cement and he'd give the same response.

And for those of you who don't speak 2 year old?

I'll post a transcript of the video if I have to.

::Crosses fingers and hits "publish post".

From the vault of Ciera Dalton

EDITORS NOTE: VIDEO IS NOW AVAILABLE. AND I AM AN IDIOT.
They are really easily amused.

In particular Trot.

The boy can get excited over a fax machine.

Thank God my kids are slow on the uptake.

Can we cut the crap and just sign him already?

OK, Theo. You've made your point.

He's not what he once was, he's a potential black hole in the lineup next year, and Scott Boras is his agent.

We all realize he's a catcher on the downside toward 40, know most guys his age who have played the position are either playing 1B, riding the bench, or retired to a life of coaching little league.

But still; he's the freaking CAPTAIN of the team. He can still call a game like nobodies business, and based on how the current team is constructed he's gotta be the first guy out of the dugout when "Big Game James Shields" needs a beating during the next donnybrook with the Rays. And it's coming, sooner rather than later.

Besides, you can't tell me you're actually serious about this whole Josh Bard as the #1 catcher thing.

You got no guarantee he makes it out of Spring Training without needing 30 days in the psych unit after trying to catch Wake in a side session in March.

Bring back Tek so I can have the first good nights sleep I've had since August.

Sometimes The Sun Shines On You.

Ever since I hit the stupid deer on Saturday night I'd been dreading getting the rental car. It's usually some tiny foreign car with a tinny motor, smells like cigarette smoke, and couldn't out run a motorized wheelchair driven by a 87 year old.

So you can imagine my surprise when Henry the Enterprise Agent asks me if a Dodge F150 was OK. OK? For a guy who grew up driving a truck in Oklahoma who has driven a Honda Accord or Toyota Camry the last 15 years or so? Who thought a truck was just something to look at and admire while I drove home from work every night?

Are you KIDDING me?

I could have kissed the guy. As soon as you turn the key the thing sounds like it could run 500 miles at Daytona. Granted, watching me have to take a running start just to get in the thing is high comedy, but once I got in?

Did you know you can get it up to 55mph in about 4 seconds?

There aren't many things you can take to the bank these days. But I can PROMISE you this.

The first stop light I hit in the morning?

I'm rolling down my window and asking the guy in the lane next to me this....

"You got a Hemi in that?"

Just when I've got it figured out, they change the rules.

Just when I think my boys are the human equivalent of a wild Mustang horse they go and surprise me.

We had all of Angie's cousins and their families over tonight for our annual get together, along with spouses and children. All told, we had 8 adults, a 7 month old, a 3 year old, a 6 year old, and my three hellions under one roof. Amidst all the eating, talking, yelling, crying, and general mayhem I noticed Rakes and Trot were MIA. Imagine my surprise when I wandered into the playroom and found this image.

The two of them, as quiet and still as church mice watching "Peter Pan". Rakes with his shirt on backwards and Trot with his pants halfway down his butt in complete awe of a movie made who knows how many years ago. All the noise, chaos, and people in the house forgotten, for a few brief minutes they were a couple of absolute angels watching a smart aleck kid in green tights fly around a pirate ship. It's moments like this that make this Dad start to tear up and wish I could stop time in it's tracks and things would stay just the way they are.

Insignificant in all this is that they were rooting for Captain Hook to JUST THIS ONCE beat Peter or wondering why can't Wendy be the one the crocodile wants to eat; they just looked so small and innocent that I wanted to grab both of them in a big bear hug and not let go.

Naturally, the moment was gone as soon as I took the picture; Rakes grabbed his light saber, Trot grabbed a plastic .357 Magnum and they were off to terrorize their sister and cousins for the next 30 minutes.

It doesn't really matter, though. I got my moment.

And that's good enough for me.

Life is funny. Not haha funny, but funny.

Right as I was leaving work tonight my boss tells me traffic on I85 is backed up for miles due to a car accident, so I had to take an alternate route home. So instead of my 8 lane highway that takes me about 20 minutes, I have to go through Greensboro on a 4 lane road that shrinks down to a 2 lane that goes through the country.

Apparently, a WHOLE bunch of other people are doing the same thing I am because it was bumper to bumper from the edge of Greensboro until about half way home. It's at this point I remember a short cut through the country with very little traffic and make a decision I'm going to regret about 10 minutes later.

Driving along, listening to the MLB channel on the XM, I notice up in the distance a doe crossing over the road and running into an open field. Now, I'm the furthest thing from a hunter as you'll find, but I do remember that when you see one deer, there are usually more close by. So I start to slow down and try to keep my eyes peeled for more of them.

I saw it for approximately .1 seconds before it slammed into the side of my car and bounced off to the side. After yelling out a stream of profanities, I make sure the deer is dead (Moment of truth; the thing wasn't moving but I wasn't about to get out and check it's pulse), but this is what my Camry now looks like.


The local Barney Fifes were a TON of help. If you look closely, right under the side mirror, you'll see a dark area that I assumed was blood. Not exactly; as my friendly neighborhood police officer so eloquently said "You really knocked the s**t out of him!".

Thanks buddy; you were TONS of help.

Finally, while waiting for the Highway Patrol to arrive, I couldn't help but think of this 911 call that makes me laugh every time I hear it. I figure you might as well laugh than cry. BTW, language is most definitely NSFW.

Married. With Children.

Every now and then, I wonder what my life would have been like If I'd have taken a left turn when I took a right or decided to stay put instead of move on. I wonder what would have happened if I'd ignored that little voice in my head and just done what everybody else would have done.

And every time I do this, it only confirms the fact that through God, common sense, or just blind freaking luck I made the right decisions most of the time. Now I'm not talking about that mullet I sported for a few years in the early 90's, that girl I just KNEW was the one in the 10th grade, or getting my college degree in Broadcast Journalism when I sound like the bastard child of Jim Neighbors and Larry the Cable Guy.

I'm talking about Angie. And consequently, Ciera, Rakes, and Trot.

I've got a woman who puts up with some of the most inane statements you've ever heard, as well as an OCD, baseball loving idiot. And I've been blessed with 3 wonderful, healthy, certifiable children you'll ever meet.

Just during today, Ciera wrote a letter to Coca Cola with a new idea for a commercial, Trot has decided he needs tennis shoes with his pajamas, and Rakes fell asleep wearing a pair of boxer shorts and his long sleeve Spider Man pajama top.

Granted, all three instances are minor occurrences; but when you combine them with the entire body of work you see why I'm on the down hill slide toward a padded room and a full time shrink.

And I couldn't have scripted my life any better than it's played out.

Besides, I'd have missed out on Rakes in Sponge Bob footie pajamas, running a train over my hardwood floors and depreciating my home's value by about $5,000.

Is Spring Training here yet?

Reason #4,597 Ang will divorce me.

After 38 years, my life is now complete.

The MLB Network is on my DirecTV, taking my free time and stealing my heart.

Good Lord, do I love Baseball.