And A Child Shall Lead Them. Only Not This One.

The kids are in Vacation Bible School this week and are memorizing certain versus from the Bible.

Trot's version of Matthew 28:20, from today.

"And  surely I am with you always, to the very end of.......July."

His teacher then asked him if he was sure that was right. Without missing a beat he responds with "Ok. Until the end of summer".

2012: The Year of Ross

*Image courtesy of Kelly and www.sittingstill.net*

Ollie Marquardt     1931

Bill Marshall       1931

Urbane Pickering    1932

Johnny Watwood      1933

Dusty Cooke         1933

Rick Ferrell        1934-35

Heinie Manush       1936

Buster Mills        1937

Joe Vosmik          1938-39

Dom DiMaggio        1940-42

Eddie Lake          1943-45

Dom DiMaggio        1946-53

Sam Mele            1955

Billy Consolo       1956-57

Ken Aspromonte      1957-58

Jim Busby           1959-60

Gary Geiger         1960-62

Dick Stuart         1963-64

Lennie Green        1965-66

Reggie Smith        1967-73

Rick Burleson       1974-80

Mike Easler         1984-85

Ed Romero           1986

Spike Owen          1987-88

Nick Esasky         1989

Phil Plantier       1990

Steve Lyons         1991

Rick Burleson       1992-93 (COACH)

Steve Rodriguez     1995

Trot Nixon          1996, 1998-2006

J.D. Drew           2007-11

Cody Ross           2012

Other than Dom DiMaggio and the Rooster, not much to write home about regarding the number 7 before Christopher Trotman Nixon arrived in Boston, where he became one of The Guys. A guy Boston just fell in love with who played like his hair was on fire, had a helmet so dirty it looked like a science experiment gone awry, and more than once looked like he was going to run through the outfield wall going for a fly ball.

Then came J.D. Drew. I liked J.D. But he wasn't Trot, and that was his biggest downfall with a lot of Red Sox Nation. He didn't have that fire or whatever it was Trot had that made everybody love the guy. You NEVER saw J.D. look like this..........

And if memory serves me correctly, this was in a game when he wasn't even PLAYING.

In the year of our Lord 2012, Cody Ross is doing the number 7 proud. He's a dirt dog who hits bombs and when he KNOWS he's gotten all of one? He's got this little bat flip he does that I'm pretty sure is going to earn him a bean ball at some point but I doubt very much that he cares. In the last 2 nights he's hit three 3 run HR, including a walk off tonight against the White Sox to take that series 3-1 and once again give all us Sox fans hope that maybe, just maybe we're still in this thing.

I'd like to think that somewhere Trot is nodding his head in silent approval of the man roaming his former territory in right field.

You're doing him proud, Cody.

Swami TIme

*Image courtesy of Kelly and www.sittingstill.net*


After limping to the halfway mark with a 43-43 record the Red Sox have a little bit of work to do in the next 3 months if they have any prayer of reaching the post season.

With that said here are my top 5 predictions for the second half of the year which, as usual, were pulled right out of my rear end with absolutely no basis on statistics, knowledge, or even common sense.

1. Papi continues to mash in his quest to get a multi-year deal in the off season and Gonzo finally realizes he's Gonzo and starts launching moon shots at will.

2. Pedroia comes back healthy and plays like his pants are on fire and at one point gets ejected for cussing out Laz Diaz while sitting on his shoulders, hitting him with his bat and shouting "It was NOT a strike" at the top of his lungs.

3. Jon Lester gets traded. Read where Peter Gammons said he's unhappy in Boston, so I say ship him out, get something back for him, and move on. He's won 5 games so far; I think they can get that production from somewhere. Don't get me wrong; I love Crabby. I just think it's time for something to happen and out of all the pitchers Boston has, he's got more trade value than any of them at this point.

4. Salty hits 40 HR, strikes out over 100 times, and starts a fight with the Yankees by shoving his mitt in A Rods face as a tribute to Tek.

5. The Sox win the Wild Card but lose to Texas in the first round.

It's the Rangers time and they are too good this year for anyone, including the Nationals.

Which is who I'm picking as the NL team in the World Series.

Rangers over Nats in 5 games.

Andy had Opie. I've got Trot.

It's been at or near 100 degrees for the better part of a week here and as a result we've taken the kids to the pool every chance we've gotten. Yesterday while I was working Ang took the boys and Ciera to the pool for about 5 hours, most of which was apparently passed in the elation only found in summer and usually only found in children.

Except for one brief instance where Trot's swim suit fell completely off him when he jumped in the water and he decided he'd just skinny dip.

In a public pool with about 25 people in or around the water.

While his Mom chased after him as he JUST stayed out of her reach, giggling like a maniac the entire time.

This kid is a travelling three ring circus.

The Best of the Ol' Fishing Hole

I grew up watching reruns of "The Andy Griffith Show" and quote Barney Fife as often as possible in daily life and Rakes and Trot both could have just as easily been named Opie.

Not until I finally grew up sometime last year did I take the time to think about this show, about ordinary everyday people who lived in a simple place in a simple time took place in one of the most divisive eras in our history. While Vietnam raged and the hippies took root in California and LSD was dropped world wide life in Mayberry went on. Simple and fantastic and totally unbelievable, yet the show never once finished lower than first place in the ratings.

Which tells you a lot about what the country needed during that time.

Thanks for giving it to them, and through the magic of reruns giving to me and my kids and most likely my grand children.

God Speed, Mr. Griffith.

Wax On. Wax Off.

In retrospect, allowing them to take martial arts may have been a mistake. Although I won't know for a few years, letting these two learn several different ways to kill a man may not be the wisest choice I've ever made as a parent.

I should probably sleep with one eye open and just hope for the best.

And Then There Was One

*Picture courtesy of Kelly and www.sittingstill.net*


I knew this was coming. Known it for weeks now, ever since Middlebrooks got called up and started looking like the second coming of Mike Schmidt.

But much like I also know that EVERY morning Trot is going to get up before anyone else, let the dog out of Ciera's room and proceed to cause havoc and mayhem in his wake I had just sort of buried my head in the sand and pretended like it wasn't going to happen.

Yet today it did and even though I knew it was inevitable Youk is a Red Sock no more. Gone to the south side of Chicago to the White Sox and with his departure David Ortiz is the last man standing from the greatest Red Sox team I've ever seen.

I'll miss the dirty uniform, the funky batting stance, the balls to the wall way he plays the game and I'll even miss him slamming his helmet down when he strikes out looking.

But most of all?

I'll miss hearing Fenway Park yell as one "YOOOOOOOOOOUK" every time he did something spectacular.

So long, Youk.

I hope you get a 5 minute standing ovation the next time the White Sox come to Fenway.

Sometimes The Hero Isn't Who You Expect

Normally with Rakes and Trot I'm writing about farting or peeing or acts of general mayhem that hopefully don't end with a visit to the hospital. Today? Not so much.

My brother and his family came up for Father's Day last night and spent the night with my folks and today he brought my two nieces over to go swimming for the afternoon.

The kids were swimming while he and I discussed the state of world affairs or some other crap and the next thing I know Matt (my brother) is throwing his glasses on the ground and flying out of his chair and I'm wondering who Trot threw in THIS time and look over and see Rakes, calmly treading water with one arm while he holds my 3 year old niece under her arm with the other hand while desperately trying to keep her head above the water.

She had been sitting by the ladder and he just so happened to be getting ready to climb out of the water when she leaned a bit too far over and tumbled in.

Here's a kid who spends most of his time playing video games and asking me questions like "Is the Ark of the Covenant REALLY made out of gold and why did the German's want it?" and in what is the biggest moment of his life so far he responds like a seasoned pro.

Sometimes?

They surprise you in a really, REALLY good way.

We're Everywhere

I had to drop a check off at the bank on the way to work today and as I'm getting out of my car a lady who had to be at LEAST 85 was walking to her car parked right next to mine. I should mention here my car has, in addition to a big dent on the right rear quarter panel, a sticker of Manny Ramirez, a Red Sox clover, a BecKKKKKett sticker, and one more.

About the time I get to the end of my car this sweet little lady who was hunched over like Quasimodo while wearing a Gilligan cap and Bermuda shorts asks me "What in the hell is a Youk?"

So, in the middle of the State Employees Credit Union parking light right at high noon I explain he's a baseball player named Youkilis and proceeded to do my very best Fenway Park version of "YOOOOOOOOUK!" for her.

After I'm done she looks up at me like I've got three heads and mutters "Whatever".

Red Sox Nation.

We're Nationwide.

Read My Lips

My sister called me yesterday and jokingly asked me if I was OK. Turns out she got a phone call from the lady who taught Trot in Sunday School at church the other day and during the time for prayer requests Trot offered up the following.

"We need to pray for my Dad. He was walking to work the other day and fell down. They think he had a heart attack".

Apparently he said this with a straight face, never minding the fact I won't walk to the mailbox, much less work which is about 3 miles away. As for the heart attack part, I MAY have mentioned once or twice or 149 times that if he and his brother kept up with whatever mischief they were making at the time they were going to GIVE me a heart attack, so I can't really blame him for that one.

This is just one more example of why I think this kid will be a politician someday.

He can lie to you with a straight face and not blink an eye.

Although I do appreciate him worrying about me.

Even if he was just making it all up.

Coming from that devious little mind?

I'll take it as a compliment.

Time Keeps On Slipping

It's funny. Walking her into school for her first day of Kindergarten seems like it happened yesterday. I remember teaching her how to ride a bike, pushing her on the swings so high I worried she would fall out only to have scream "Higher, Daddy!" and taking her ice skating for the first time and her not letting go of my hand the whole time.

Seems like we were just in the ER at the hospital that time she got a roto virus and her needing an IV of fluids while the ER doc took care of some drunk 2 booths down almost had me going to jail for assault if that doctor didn't hurry up and get in the room to take care of her.

Today my baby girl graduated from the 8th grade to a High Schooler and I've been in sort of a stunned state all day long. I honestly have no freaking idea where the years have gone; I can remember almost everything about her childhood but it seems like it just started yesterday. Never in my life have I wanted to somehow stop time and just keep her just the way she is right now, even though I know it's only gonna go faster and faster as the days go by.

Today I realized that on the day she graduates High School I'm more than likely going to be a blithering idiot.

I just hope senility has set in by the time she gets married, 'cause otherwise I'm not really sure how I'm going to get through it.

I Wonder if Yaz's Dad Had The Same Problem

As a Dad of two boys there are a lot of things you've got to teach them. How to throw a ball, catch it, and hit it. You always say "Yes Ma'am" and open doors for women and look people in the eye when they talk to you. The list goes on and on.

Yet on one crucial issue I'm apparently a miserable failure.

Lifting the freaking toilet seat when you pee.

Trot lifts it half the time but Rakes just can't keep to grasp the concept of lifting something up and then putting it back down when you're done.

In fact, I don't have a clue what he's doing in there; most of the time there is more left on the seat than there is in the toilet and it makes me wonder if he's doing jumping jacks at the same time he's emptying his bladder.

I can honestly say I've spent more time talking to them about this than breathing, yet they can't seem to get such a simple task committed to memory.

If it weren't for two women living in the house I'd have taken all the seats off the three toilets a long time ago and just put in a trough.

Carlin would be proud

Saturday night (when the Sox aren't playing) is movie night around the house and last night we watched "We Bought A Zoo", which was actually pretty good.

Before we started I asked Ang, who'd seen it already, if there were any parts where I needed to have the mute button ready just in case Trot or Rakes learned a few new words to share in Sunday School in the morning and  she let me know there were only a few.

For the next 15 minutes Trot asked what they were, when they were coming in the movie and could he say them if he heard them. He finally ran out of air, leaned back on the dog like it was a throw pillow, and watched the rest of the movie.

Right before the closing credits were about to come on he sits up, looks around and asks...........

"WHEN are the cuss words coming?"

Ladies and Gentlemen, my son.

Apparently the next Redd Foxx.

Rolling.

*Image courtesy of Kelly and www.sittingstill.net*


If you'd have told me in Spring Training that Felix Doubront was gonna be the best pitcher on the Red Sox staff  the first of June I would have told you the odds were better Trot would get "Student of the Year" before that happened.

The real King Felix resides at 4 Yawkey Way.

Boston, MA.

Out of last place and 2 games back.

Let the good times roll.

Take that, Dr. Spock.

My sister has been filling in and teaching Rakes class at school since his teacher decided to quit during the year. (I have no idea if this is just a coincidence or a direct result of having Rakes in the class, although I have a few thoughts about it). Today Trots teacher found my sister and asked the following;

"Is Trot on medication?"

My sister replied not that she knew of and asked why.

"Well, he's been so well behaved today and I asked him if he was taking any new medicine and he said yes. When I asked if it was today he said he started it yesterday."

He did admit, after the teacher asked if he wanted to verify that with my sister, that he was "just kidding".

Turns out all you need to do to make a hyper-active child act calm is take him to the swimming pool 4 straight days and just flat wear him out.

Summertime Blues

Today was opening day for our neighborhood pool.

I know this because Trot was in his swim trunks in my bedroom at the ungodly hour of 5:30 a.m. whispering in my ear "Can we go swimming NOW?"

My first Saturday off in 2 months and this maniac is ready to go swimming before the sun has completely come up.

My day started with that and ended with Salty walking off in the ninth.

All in all, a pretty good Saturday.

Who, Me?

For my birthday today, Trot got on red at school.

Of course he did.

The following is a letter his teacher sent home from school today; her name has been changed to protect the innocent.

"Trot is on red today because he refused to do what I asked him to do twice today. We took the writing test and he got up twice after I clearly asked him to sit down and raise his hand. He didn't like my answer to he got up again and went to OTHER TEACHER.

"He was already on yellow for talking during class time."

Teacher

When we asked him why he didn't raise his hand he responded "Dad, I raised it for so long I almost fell asleep and she STILL didn't let me talk!"

At least it wasn't like last week when he got on red for looking under the bathroom stall at some other kid doing his business.

Gary Thorne Made Me Do It

I've gone almost a week without a new post, which is probably the longest I've ever gone. Part of it has been nothing really new to write about and part of it has been due to the fact Trot and Ang came down with some kind of flu bug last Thursday and I've been a one-man show for the better part of a week.

Drove Rakes and the neighbor kids to school on Friday, worked all day, took Ciera to ballet practice first thing Sat morning, worked all day, went home and took her to the ballet concert that night and didn't get back home or eat dinner until almost 10.

Taught 2 year olds at church on Sunday, then had to take Rakes to the neighbors house before taking Ciera BACK to day 2 of the ballet concert that afternoon, and then back home. This isn't taking into account all the everyday normal stuff I had to do, like yelling at Rakes for dragging the dog, who was ASLEEP at the time, across the floor by his collar, clean up various spills, food, clothes, and toys up off the floor.

All that just bled over to Monday where Ang and Trot were home again. All day. On my day off.

So I cleaned the house from top to bottom and almost killed Trot AND the dog when they went running hell bent for leather into the kitchen not 3 minutes after I mopped the hard wood floors.

Went back to work today, only to have to leave at 11:30 to take Ciera to the orthodontist, where I calmly gave over enough money to fund a third world country's budget for the next 6 months, only to be reminded I get to do it all over again at her appointment next month.

As I went back to work and wondered what my life would be like if I'd never gotten married for the better part of the day I had almost convinced myself that I'd made the wrong choice some 20 years ago.

Almost.

It was when I got home and saw a little bald headed boy tormenting a dog, another boy that looks like I spit him out, a beautiful daughter that is growing before my eyes and the woman I love finally feeling like herself again that I realized what all I would have missed if it had gone a different way.

And I told myself I wouldn't change a thing.

Except for maybe letting them talk me into getting a dog.

Dog Days

My day started yesterday at around 5:15 when Trot and Rakes decided that was a perfectly reasonable time to get up and start role playing Mario Brothers in Rakes' bedroom followed by 2 more hours filled with chasing the dog around the house, wrestling each other, and apparently trying to break the sound barrier with voices only.

8 hours of work later I pick the boys up at my parents house (Ang and Ciera had gone to dance practice) and upon entering my home I see the remnants of Hurricane Keagan. First he'd crapped on the stairs (Ciera, ignoring my pleas on the phone just a few short hours ago had NOT taken the dog out), left our bedroom door open, meaning the dog got into the bathroom trashcan and had strewn it's contents all over our room.

They had also left all their lunchboxes on the kitchen table and Rakes' now resembled something that had been put in the garbage disposal; I should point out at this point I'm sure my blood pressure is at stroke level and I'm rambling incoherently about sending the dog to Siberia while Rakes keeps finding MORE stuff, like the trash all in the toy room that I still don't know where it came from.

The dog, sensing something is amiss, promptly goes into our bedroom, crawls under the bed, and won't come out until 10 minutes later when Trot drags it out by his tail. I've gotta be honest; for one brief moment I considered just opening the door, letting him run out, and writing a kidnap note from Morris the Cat stating "this is for all the cats that have ever been chased by a dog".

Thank God the Red Sox won or yesterday might well have been the day they put me in that straight jacket for good.

He's a Goodfella.

Ang got a call from the boy's school on her way to work Friday and it turns out it was Trot's teacher.

Thinking it a little odd that the first question out of her mouth was "Does Trot eat breakfast in the morning before he comes to school?" she quickly discovered the reason for the call.

Turns out Trot had been arriving to class about 15 minutes late each day as he took a side detour to the cafeteria to have his SECOND breakfast of each day and was telling his teacher that we didn't feed him anything before he left.

The little con man even told his Mom, after she let him have it for not paying for any of these meals that "It's free, Mom. The lady has all the money in her computer where she punches the numbers in".

I have no idea whether he believes this or if he's the biggest shyster since Leonardo DeCaprio in "Catch me if you Can" but what I do know is this.

He's 6 years old and he already reminds me of Henry from "Goodfellas".

Part of me fully expects him to be running a rolling craps game and taking bets on college football by this fall.