Angie described Rakes today as being like one of those characters from the 80's movie "Gremlins": you know, arms and legs flailing about, while jibber jabbering all the time. At the mail man, the pizza man, UPS guy, and the random "pretty dirl" walking their dog down our street.
After spending the day with my two Aunt's, both around 70, he came home good and wound up: this was the outfit he chose to wear to church tonight. Needless to say, the footies did not make the cut.
I came up with this title after hearing, for the umpteenth time today, a loud THUMP, followed by Trot's unmistakable wailing cry. Finding Trot sprawled on the floor, and Rakes a mere foot away, I ask "What did you do?" His response? "Nothing Daddy: him just fall down."
Now tell me: would you trust that face?
Daisuke took the hill vs. the Indians and Paul Byrd at Fenway tonight, and, well, it did not go according to plan. After taking a 2-0 lead, Daisuke left with the score 6-2 Indians. The Sox loaded the bases in the 7th with nobody out, but somehow, nobody scored. Papi missed a granny by about 2 feet, then popped out to end it.
Final score? 8-4 Indians. I hate to lose, but anytime you can take 2 out of 3 from the 2nd best team in the AL? It's a good thing.
Bring on the Yankees this weekend: I'll roll with Wake, Schill, and Beckett any day of the week.
The Prayer of a Righteous Man
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