Rakes hit Trot upside the head with a water gun rifle, leaving a bump the size of Greenland, Ciera had asked me for the 15th time if I'd write a check for $50 to her school (so she could be Principle or something; I gotta admit I was in overload), and apparently Trot's adventures with MRSA aren't quite over.
Does anyone have a 20 ft bubble I can borrow for the next 15 years?
Ang and I had a great time away; we actually talked about something other than "Are you going to handle this or do you want me to?"
Crossing the Inter coastal Waterway as we entered Emerald Isle, we discussed how much longer Trot will be in diapers.
At the Bouge Inlet Pier, we strolled hand in hand and wondered if Rakes needs to be on Ritalin and if the age of 9 is too young to enroll Ciera in a nunnery.
Ang and I spent some time along the waterfront at Morehead City, watching the ships roll in and having some quality time with each other. Just don't tell her I was wondering why we couldn't score more runs when Beckett pitched, will ya'?
Finally, the Red Sox don't waste a fantastic pitching performance; Jon Lester goes 8 innings, gives up 1 hit, and in the bottom of the ninth? A little walk off magic; Papi walked, Manny singles, and Youk drives The Large Father in with a single. Sox win, 1-0.
It's official. I'm never going on vacation during the season again.