Life comes at you fast.

After I put Trot to bed tonight I went in Rakes room to say goodnight and asked if his Mom said prayers with him.

"Yes. No. I think it's yes. I'm not sure, Dad. Just to be sure can you say them again?"

Ciera, who normally rides to school with a girl down the street rode the bus because she wanted to talk with a couple of friends she hasn't gotten to hang out with in a while. About 1 I get a text from her saying the girl she rides with totaled her car on the way in, with a car running a stoplight and broad siding her on the passenger side.

I saw pictures and the side of the car Ciera normally sits on was pushed all the way to the drivers side.

So, yeah Rakes.

I'll say them again with you.

Just to be sure.

I Hate High School.

So, pretty much the thing I dreaded most about Ciera going to High School has happened, and they've only been in school a little over a month.

She's "dating".

A Jr of all things.

Now, she can't REALLY "date" until she's 16 which makes it somewhat easier. And I've already gotten her to utter "Dad, you are RUINING my social life" at least 3 times so I've got that going for me. And all in all she's a pretty good kid.

But I still don't like it.

On the plus side I told her that if her and this punk want to "date" he's gotta come over and talk to me. ASAP.

Which means at the very least I get to make some kid extremely uncomfortable as I let him know exactly what I'm gonna do to him if he hurts my little girl.

It won't make it go away.

But at least it'll make it a little bit better.

From the Desk of Trot

I should have known something was up when I took this picture right around the time he was two. Look at him; food all over his face, grinning like a maniac, and squeezing food in his hand like he's straight out of the Congo.

Yesterday Trot came home from school and proceeded to tell his Mom, after she asked him what he did at school that day, and I quote:

"We made a soccer ball out of wood and kicked it around the room, then made a football out of flowers and threw it to each other outside, then we played tag."

When Ang called his bluff and said she would call his teacher he responded with the following.

"OK. We DIDN'T do that. I just wish that was what we did".

Maybe he'll be a fiction writer.

Or a politician.

A New World Order

14 years ago High School was the farthest thing from my mind as I held a beautiful baby girl. I thought about her first words and steps and wondered what she'd think of me when she figured out who in the world I was.

The next several years sped by filled with pushing her in a swing, teaching her how to ride a bike, reading countless books to her whenever I could, and generally spoiling her rotten. Then, all of a sudden, we were in Kindergarten and I thought "plenty of time until she grows up" and then somehow we were in 3rd grade, then   Middle School and like some demented ostrich I kept my head buried in the sand and pretended High School would never get here.

And now it's here. She's this grown up thing with attitude to burn and she's hit the ground running with band, football games, Honor's classes and her need for me consists of giving her money and driving her from place to place. And I realize that my little girl that I've known all these years is no more.

But, and she'll kill me for saying this, every night when she's ready to go to sleep she comes out of her room at the top of the stairs and says "I'm ready for bed, Dad."

And just like I've done almost every night since she was born, I kneel down next to her bed, hold her hands, and say her goodnight prayers together.

Really hope she doesn't grow out of that anytime soon.

Re-Set

Fantasy baseball.

The only place I've ever seen a trade like this made, yet it happened in real life as Beckett, Crawford, Gonzo, and for some weird reason Nick Punto all get traded to the Dodgers for James Loney and some prospects (some of which are reported to be pretty good).

I get that it needed to happen; Beckett wore out his welcome about 2 years ago and even though I've always  liked the guy and probably always will? I get why people are glad he's gone; I'm a fan, but I'm not stupid.

Crawford never got out of the starting blocks with Boston due to injuries and general bad luck, and I hope a move to the West Coast (where he probably wishes he'd gone when the Angels came calling anyway) will do him a world of good.

It's Gonzo I'm really going to miss; a guy in his prime with the sweetest swing since Ted Williams and he played First like he owned it. He's going to mash for the next few years until, like all of us, Father Time finally catches up and he becomes a mere mortal.

Gonna be interesting to see what management does or doesn't do with all that extra money they suddenly have.

One thing you can say for sure; it's never boring in Red Sox Nation.

Mr. Monk? Meet Rakes.

Do to the sheer weight of Trot-isms that have been coming fast and furious lately I'd forgotten about one Rakes story that happened the day we were leaving for vacation.

I gotta preface this by saying I'm a bit of a germophobe; BIG believer in washing hands, not touching the inside doorknob in a public bathroom, not touching a pay phone no matter what the emergency could be, etc..... and I sometimes forget kids see EVERYTHING.

As we left out that morning for the beach Ang had to stop at her hairdressers to pick up something vital. I have no idea what it was, only that there was no way on earth we could go to the beach without it and apparently this product isn't found in ANY store, mall, gas station, or Wal-Mart in America. So we went.

Mind you, we've been in the car a total of 10 minutes so far, and even though I made everyone go to the bathroom BEFORE we left the house, of course they all had to pee when we get there. After Ang and Ciera and Trot go, I send Rakes to one and I use the other. (I didn't have to go, but there was no way I was stopping for ME when I knew we had at least another 23 more we'd have to make before getting to the beach).

As I leave the room there is nobody there; no sign of anyone. So I call Rakes' name and get a THUMP, THUMP, THUMP coming from his door and him calling "In here, Dad". I open the door and there he is, standing like Hawkeye Pierce right after he'd scrubbed for surgery and before Hot Lips put on his surgical gloves. With great big eyes he say's "I didn't want to touch the handle and they don't have any towels. I just figured I'd wait on you to come and find me".

Dear Lord what have I done to him?

He did it again.

Another day, another Trot story.

At lunch time today Ang was in our room while Trot was supposedly eating lunch, but when she came out of our room his food was at the table but he wasn't. When she called out his name, Rakes came walking out of the playroom carrying a pint of ice cream and a serving spoon stating "he's been in here eating this".

Mind you, we have told them both about a million times apiece that we are NOT eating outside the kitchen, so by the time Trot came moseying in from the bathroom Ang was about to hit the roof. It was at this point the following conversation took place.

Ang: "Trot, why are you disobeying us when we've told you time after time not to eat outside the kitchen?"

Trot: "I don't know."

Ang: "Didn't you ask Jesus into your heart?"

Trot: "Yes."

Ang: "And didn't you just get baptized?"

Trot: "Yes."

Ang: "So why aren't you listening to him talking to you and telling you to do the right thing?"

Trot: "Mom. I can't HEAR Jesus. The television is too loud".

If he doesn't become President one day he's gonna make a fine Congressman at the very least.

Seriously. One Day I'm Writing a Book.

Trot had a buddy come over around lunch today to swim and spend the night; sort of a send off to summer since he's headed back to school in a few weeks.

This friend of his goes to church with us and his Dad is a Deacon and member of the choir, so of course something Trot-esque was bound to occur.

It didn't take 5 minutes.

As Ang is talking to his Mom, Rakes is asking if he can watch violent movies and wondering what video games they have need to be put up for the night while Ang is turning what I imagine to be a vivid red. (Thankfully I'm at work while all this is going on). As they are explaining to Trot's buddy and his Mom what video games they CAN play, the following takes place.

Rakes: "We have the game Doodlebob, but Trot can't play it because he can't spell".

Trot: "Yes I can"!

Rakes: "No you can't"!

Trot: "Yes I can! I can spell ass! A.S.S."!

I've got a sinking feeling we aren't getting a Christmas card this year.

Vacations. They're not just for Clark Griswold.

I spent the past week in Myrtle Beach for our annual vacation, which is typically a lot of fun mixed in with a few doses of stress and a shot of blind fear. Without further ado, the top 5 Trot moments of Beachapalooza 2012.

1. Upon meeting a couple of college kids in the pool, Trot asks where they're from. Turns out it was Durham, NC whereupon Trot responds "I'm from Durham too. But now I live here".

2. Every 10 minutes he would barge into the ping pong room, look around, and yell at the top of his lungs "I got winner!"

3. At my urging he walks up to the hostess at Olive Garden and say's "Hey baby. Can we get a table?" Not 3 seconds later our buzzer beeps alerting us our table is ready. He now thinks this will get us a table anywhere we go at a moments notice. Trot: The Hostess Whisperer.

4. As I'm carrying him up the beach he grabs my neck and say's "You're my favorite Dad, Dad."

5. On the drive home the kids are watching the first "Star Wars" and one of the Empire big wigs utters the line "We will CRUSH the Rebel Alliance" which I immediately start repeating. Trot, sitting in the back seat playing his DS then utters "We're eatin' fish tonight!" in his best Bruce the shark voice from the movie "Finding Nemo".

Yep. That's my boy.

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.