Surgery at Lansdowne

OK...so I had to get some minor surgery at Inova Hospital in Lansdowne today. They put me "under" and I'm not supposed to (and I'm not kidding, this is printed in their literature) "make any important decisions for 24 hours" -- so in lieu of deciding to make a major purpose or enter into a contract, I've decided to post a new blog.

The best part of this story starts on Wednesday. I had my regular doctor set up the appointment at the surgical center and they called me earlier in the week to let me know. But, on Wednesday, I decided to call the Surgery center to confirm and make sure all was set up.
The lady on the phone was very polite and she starts rattling off all the details. You know, "don't eat or drink anything for 24 hours, show up at 9:30 with your insurance card and drivers license and be sure someone is there to drive you home, bla, bla, bla..."

Then she says "your Vasectomy will take about...." At that point you could hear the record screech in the background.

"Wait!" I tell her as my knees weaken and the blood rushes from my head "I'm not getting a va....va...va....vasectomy"

"Umm...err...umm....you're not?"

"No...not at all I tell her, I'm getting procedure X done"

"Umm...err..umm...please hold"

OK...I could go on and on here...but, to make a long story short...she insists it was just a clerical error and all taken care of.

They then transfer me to the insurance department and he rattles off all the details. I then ask him:

"Out of curiosity...what procedure am I cleared for..."

"A Vasectomy" he says casually.

Arrrrgghhh. Needless to say, I went through w/the procedure regardless -- but rest assured I asked at every opportunity and at every possible stage "what is being done today..." I asked the doctors, the nurses, the secretaries, the cleaning ladies....I spared no one.

Thankfully, they did the right procedure.

So, now to the procedure. Kelly drives me there and we get all checked in. They make me change into one of those hospital gowns, a humongous hair net that would have been able to cover Marge Simpson hair if necessary and some sweet brown grandpa socks with rubber tread on the bottom.

Kelly was oddly excited about the socks. I'm not real sure what excited her about them so much. I'll have to ask later.

Anyway, I'm anxious. And when I'm anxious, I tell jokes. For example, when the nurse gave me the nighty to wear, I ask "Do you want me to do that right here (in the lobby)....because, you know, people would pay good money for that..." Umm...I was nervous and anxious. I say these things when I get that way. I'm sure I said more...I just don't recall.

Finally they walk me back to the surgery room. They ask me some questions. I tell them I need to scratch my nose and they tell me that now would be a good time to do that. So, I scratch my nose.

Next thing I remember, I'm in some recovery room laying on my back. I kind of lift my head.

"Can I get you anything" says a nurse

"A beer" I recall saying. I remember I didn't want a beer. But for some reason, in my "base" state of functionality, I was trying to make jokes.

They bring Kelly back. I'm really groggy. I keep saying "I'm so confused"...because I was....I was just trying to scratch my nose and then I was waking up and they were saying they were done. Who wouldn't be confused?

Then the Nurse tells Kelly that are going to prescribe some medication called "pyromax" or something like that. In my inebriated state, I say "Arggh, matey!" Umm...apparently I made the leap from pyro to Pirate....so,naturally, I said "arggh, matey"....geez.

Kelly keeps telling me to shut up. Well...she didn't say shut up...just something along the lines of "Babe, just be quiet and rest" -- in, other words, 'shut up, honey, you are embarassing me'
At some point I get back in my regular clothes and am driven home. I have only a vague recollection of this. I sleep off the anesthesia...but, honestly, still feel kind of lethargic.

But, I'm counting my blessings. At least I didn't get a "bonus" Vasectomy.

Birthday Cake Debacle

My friend (and co-worker) Jason once gave his wife some flowers for her birthday. Well....not exactly. He gave her a pot with dirt and some seeds. I'm not kidding. And don't worry. I've busted on him plenty about it.... and so has his wife.

So, Kelly's 30th birthday is coming up and knowing that a pot of dirt was out of the question, I decided to bake her a cake with the kids (well, with Reagan... Luke was more interested in playing with his trucks).

So we go to the store and I let Reagan pick out the cake she wants to make. First mistake. I didn't really look at what she picked. When I got the package out today, I realized it was Angel Food cake. Not a problem, I thought -- other than I might have trouble icing it (which, honestly, was going to be a challenge for me anyway). So, I moved on. Reagan helped me find all of the bowls and stuff needed to make the cake. This was cute because I really did not know which cabinet they were in. She obviously bakes more than me.

Reagan and I followed the directions to the letter. I mixed on low for 30 seconds and then on medium for one minute. Then I chose a bundt-type pan to pour the cake into. After I poured it, Reagan said "Daddy, that's too much" -- which I knew it would have been if it were a regular cake. But this was Angel Food cake I thought and all of the "rising" had been done during the mixing stage. I thought it would work. Wrong.

After about 10 minutes, the batter was spilling all over the oven. It's burning and it's a mess. My solution is to just let it continue to bake and then I'll dismantle the oven later and clean it all out. Reagan said again "Daddy, you put too much in..." Thanks Reagan, I thought myself, and then laugh at how much she is like her mother. Then she looks at me and says "Daddy, I'm going to go get Mommy." At this point, I'm not sure if she's telling on me or genuinely knew I needed help. Regardless, Kelly comes down to the rescue. She emerges from the smoke and pulls the "cake" out and I clean up what I can. We put it back in the oven after a quick clean up(well, that's glossing over things a bit -- it was a complete mess and not exactly "quick"). Kelly then goes to the store to pick up some things.

While she's gone, the cake gets done cooking. Again, I followed the instructions to the letter. I did not grease the pan (Kelly tells me that was still wrong) and I tried to take it out of the pan immediately as the instructions stated (again, I'm told that was wrong). At any rate, it just didn't work out -- as you can see a picture of the complete and total debacle that was my attempt at a birthday cake.

In retrospect, I should have just given her a pot with some dirt.

My First (my last?) 5K Race

This morning I ran in my first 5K race.

It was called the Morven Park 5K, though, it might as well have been called the Morven Park Ass-Kicker. Because, that’s what it did.

Here’s the story: I had trained (in a slacker kind of way) for the race. Basically…I had not run much (umm…or…at all) in the last 10 or so years. So, a couple of months ago I started running – about 3 times a week according to some recommended 5K schedule. And I now can run 3 miles fairly easily (for those that aren’t Canadian, that’s about the distance in a 5K). So, I thought I’d be able to run all the way on this one pretty easily, as well.

One small problem. I had been doing all my running on pavement – without any obstacles. However, Morven Park is an equestrian center. There are no paved roads…it was all (well, mostly) high grass that was matted down. And some genius thought it would be really cute to add horse obstacles (you know, the things you see the horses jump over during the Olympics) along the way.

Our group that ran this race consisted of Jason (my co-worker), Colleen (his wife), Becky (also my co-worker) and me. Oh, by the way, Mark Karl at AMS, a company that we do a lot of business with paid our entry fee. Gotta give the sponsor a shout-out for all 3 readers of the Faircloth Five blog.

Well, you should know that Jason and I have been sandbagging each other for a month now about how we would do. It wasn’t trash talking. Jason has run 2 marathons. I had no visions of beating him. I did, however, think that he would kind of take it easy and I’d be able to hang. So, we’ve been downplaying what we think our time might be. Realistically, I was shooting for under 32 minutes.

But the gamesmanship started early. Jason told me to just go down Wirt Avenue and I would run right into Morven Park. Ummm…more appropriately, if I go down Wirt Avenue, I’ll dead end at a cemetery. Man…I haven’t even run and the score is already: Jason 1, Scott 0. This is not looking good. However, I know that I’m prepared for this race. I even ate a Fruit and Yogurt Parfait for breakfast. OK, so I ate a chicken biscuit, too. But, at least part of my breakfast was the wholesome goodness of a Fruit and Yogurt Parfait. But I digress -- eventually, I found the place and got registered just in time.

So, fast-forward to the starting line….Colleen, Jason, Becky and I are milling about. The dude that’s supposed to tell us “GO” instead tells us a bunch of random trivia for 5 minutes. I’m about to pee in my pants and really wish he would just say “GO!” Finally, he does.

Colleen takes off like a bat out of hell and I don’t see her again for the rest of the race. She finished in about 5 minutes. She comes in first in her age group and was the third girl to finish. Impressive. By the time I crossed the finish line, she was already showered, dressed to kill and was ready to go clubbing.

Becky and Jason kind of hung back with me for awhile, but I took an early lead on them – in retrospect – a crucial error. I think my pace was too fast, too early. But I felt great early on. I’ve been struggling with a shin problem…I think shin splints. But because the race was on grass and the ground was soft, my shins felt awesome. Empowered by that, I passed Jason and Becky. In a rare moment of trash talk, I had mentioned that I should pin my race number on my back, because that’s all they would be seeing of me. As I passed, I regretted not doing that.

After about 10 minutes, however, I noticed I was unusually fatigued. The grass seemed to make my quads really tired. Not hurting, necessarily…just really, really fatigued. And then I hit the first of about 50 “obstacles” that would be the bane of my existence for the next 20 minutes. Becky passed me around this first obstacle. I spent the next 20 minutes watching her orange Virginia Tech shirt grow smaller and smaller.

So, at that point, I gave up on catching her. She apparently encountered a bunch of deer along the way. I never saw them. All I saw were little dancing bears because I was probably hallucinating at this point.

But Jason was still behind me. Just fight through this and I’ll get my second wind, I thought to myself. Umm…the second wind never came. At about the 18 minute mark (I know this because the 17+ minute live version of the song “Crazy Game of Poker” by O.A.R had just finished playing on my MP3 player), I turn a corner and all I see is this huge hill. Actually, it might as well have been Mt. Everest. Jason (being the experienced runner) had told me it was OK to take a 15 second walk break to rejuvenate. These words kept ringing through my ears.

So, finally, I listen to his wisdom. I take a quick walk break. Just at that point, Jason goes running by me…looking quite refreshed. Yes, that’s right, Jason: 2, Scott: 0.

A guy with a cane passed me at this point. I’m not kidding. Gramps passed me. OK…so maybe he didn’t have a cane, but I’m certain he was a broken hip just waiting to happen.

After Jason gets out of reach, I began running again. My 15 second break was probably more like 30 seconds. I begin running again and don’t walk again until we hit another steep hill that has another obstacle on it. I wanted to cuss. I really did. Instead, I walked up that hill and left the cussing to others.

I ran most of the rest of the way. As I neared the finish line, I could see Kelly and the kids holding a sign cheering me on and that, of course, made me happy. Colleen (22:21), Becky (27:54) and Jason (27:43) had been finished for minutes and they were there to see me gasp across the finish line, as well (final score, for those counting, Jason: 3, Scott: 0). Becky actually came in second in her age group -- surprising even herself. I'm sure she'll be wearing her medal all week at work. Because I had stopped to walk twice, I thought my time would be like 40 minutes. Surprisingly, though, as I crossed the finish line, my time was 30:48, a minute under what I was shooting for. A pleasant surprise, to say the least.

So, you’re probably thinking after this torture, I’ll never run again. Well, actually, for some reason known only to God – I’m ready to run another. Just not today.

Burke Lake Park

My son is train obsessed. Loves them. Can't get enough of them. And because her "best friend" is so into them, Reagan is really enjoys them, too (just not as much). I'm guessing he's so into them because his grandfather (Kelly's dad), has this huge train layout in his basement and he's grown up watching that. But, in reality, he's also grown up watching me yell at the TV set over the Redskins and he's not obsessed with that yet...yet (give him time). Regardless of the reason, it is cute that he has this common bond with this grandfather.

As far as Redskins games go, Reagan enjoys watching games with me more than Luke at the moment -- which, by the way, makes me happy. I love watching Redskins games with her around and she watches them with me...not because she enjoys the games, but because she knows it makes me happy when she watches them with me. Seriously...what father would not like that?

But, I digress...so, back to the trains. Luke's train obsession has taken us to see Thomas in Lancaster, PA,, a few unnecessary trips on the metro and to numerous random tracks around the state of Virginia. Well, our "train" travels took us to a new location this weekend: Burke Lake Park.

Burke Lake Park is a cool place for any kid that is into trains. They've got this miniature train that runs on little tracks and winds along the lake and woods. It's really kind of neat. It had a water tower, trestle, and tunnel. All things both of my babies love to point out. Best of all, it was only $2 a ride -- and anything under $2 is a bargain in Northern Virginia. They also had a carousel there, walking paths, playground, etc.

So, two thumbs up for Burke Lake Park. Reagan and (especially) Luke had fun and they even have an ice cream parlor on the park grounds...so we all got ice cream afterward. Good times.

Yes, Jesus loves.... what?

There is something about fire that intrigues me.

There is something about cooking meat over fire that stirs my soul.

And there is something about cooking meat over that fire with a beer in hand that makes me think there is nothing wrong in the world. It is my "happy place" and I know grillin' and chillin' is God's gift to me and I love it. As Ben Franklin might say if he were still alive, "Grillin' and chillin' is proof that God loves us and wants us to be happy."

I had thought that there was nothing in the world that could eclipse the joy of cooking meat over an open flame. That is, until my son came of 'grilling' age this summer. He is now 2, almost 3 and he's ready to learn his way around the grill. Now, don't get me wrong. I did not force this on him. I'm a big believer to let these things bloom in their own time.

Thankfully for me, the shared experience of grilling with my son happened a month or so ago when I declared: "I'm going out to grill" and then my son, Luke, promptly responded: "I want to gwill with you daddy"...

....umm...for those that don't know...it simply does not get better than that. My son was on his way to becoming a man. And you don't turn your son down when he asks to "gwill" with you. You just don't!

So, we grilled and chilled together. He ate meat right off the grill and he kept asking for more. It was great. We have repeated this practice numerous times since. I have cultivated his interest in cooking meat over an open flame and I'm confident it will grow into a love.

And this makes me happy. Very happy. Nothing can compare to the sharing of a mutual interest with your children. No hyperbole at all....it is the best.

So that brings me to a heartwarming proclamation by my son. My daughter recently declared that her favorite vegetable was brocolli. The responsible parent in me was pleased. Then my son quickly declared that his favorite vegetables were "chicken and beef"....

CHICKEN AND BEEF!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I cannot tell you how proud I was. That little guy said the magic words that would make me beam...his favorite "vegetables" are chicken and beef. I LOVE it. He has a passion for grilling and he has his dietary priorities in order -- all before the age of 3. I thought it couldn't get any better.

That is until we were driving to church last Sunday. Playing in the CD player was a bible songs CD and Reagan (my daughter) and Luke were singing along. Then the song "Jesus Loves Me" started playing....and they knew the song....word for word.

Only my son got the words a bit wrong.

Instead of singing the chorus as "Yes, Jesus love me" he was singing what he thought the song was saying....and this is what he was singing:

"Yes, Jesus loves meat. Yes, Jesus loves meat."

Ahhhhhh....the joys of fatherhood.

My Million Dollar Idea

Here she is. You can take it to the bank. Use this idea to make millions.... or even billions.

Here it is: with Tivo and the Internet, TV commercials have become marginalized in their effectiveness. That's why you see more and more "products" embedded into TV shows. So, there is a huge push for effective advertising mediums to replace some of the efficacy lost to the new technologies.

My idea helps to recoup some of that lost efficacy and helps to re-energize a struggling market: the US Car industry.

So, here's what should replace that. It's pretty commonplace to have a GPS system built into the dashboard of cars. In a decade, this will be as standard as the tape deck. What these screens offer is a pretty viable advertising medium. The auto industry can, effectively, siphon off billions of dollars in ad revenue by delivering advertising messages directly to this GPS system. And let's be real...advertising is becoming more and more permission based...so, the auto companies can offer a discount...say $1500 or $2000 on the car if the owner agrees to have ads delivered every time the car is started and every X amount thereafter. The possibilities are, literally, endless. Advertisers would be falling over themselves. In a country to 300 million where virtually everyone owns a car, this a great concept.

You could target ads by the car they drive. BMW drivers might get hit with Nordstrom ads. Ford pickup owners might get Nascar, chewing tobacco, and beer ads. Volvo drivers would be a boon for liberal politicians. You get the idea.

So there you have it. This benefits the consumer, helps out those companies looking for a viable advertising medium to replace TV, and bails out the struggling US auto industry. This is a billion dollar idea....and I offer it to you free of charge....to the fine readers of the Faircloth Five Blog.

I'll be here all week solving all the problems of American businesses.

An "Indian", an African, a pilot and a college kid walk into a bar...

Okay...it sounds like the start of a good joke.

You've got a (self-described) Indian, a South-African, a Brazilian pilot, a frisbee-loving landlord, an about-to-be-married college kid and his engineer father, a former High School basketball legend, an extreme sports loving computer guru, the owner of an inexplicably large lifesaver (candy) stash and me -- a complete and total goofball -- all in the same room.

It's an odd lot, I know...and begs the question... What on earth could bring such a motley crew together?

A United Nations meeting? Well, if you know me, you'd know I'd rather eat my own eyeballs than attend anything affiliated with the U.N.

A Softball team? No, South-Africans play cricket and Brazilians play soccer...gotta scratch that one.

Prison? Good guess... and I think that's just a matter of time with this group before that's a reality.

How about a church outing to Staunton, VA to fix up some houses for members of the community in need of some help? Bingo.

Yes, it's true... our rogue group descended upon the Shenandoah Valley (my adopted 'hometown') and helped fix up some houses. And, thanks to numerous trips to Walmart and Klines (the local ice cream joint), we also helped energize the local economy by spending our hard-earned Northern Virginia dollars in these fine establishments.

It was a good time.

I had not met the majority of these guys before going on this trip. We are fairly new to the church and it is huge. My neighbor could go there and I'd probably not know it. So, it was good to get to meet each of them. I didn't get to work alonside all of them....but here's my (slightly embellished) take on those that I did work with:

There was Marius. He's South-African and works for the World Bank. I picture a Saturday Night Live skit where Marius is a teller and his customers include a bunch of current and former world leaders and dictators I can imagine Jacques Chirac smugly receiving his free toaster for opening an account. I can equally picture Kim Jong-Il getting ticked off for receiving not receiving his. Fidel Castro would stroll in and make a withdrawal. Hugo Chavez would be 1/2 angry and 1/2 caaarrrazy. And Marius would be there. Polite to a fault and exceedingly cordial, trying to sort the mess out.

The "indian" was Chris. He's really not a Native American...but he could pass for one on TV if he wanted to. Together, Chris and I pioneered the "eyeballing" technique for installing vinyl siding. It's fast, it's efficient, and it looks great. I'm certain contractors will be calling us for tips in a few days.

The Brazilian pilot was Marcelo. I had met Marcelo before and really admired him. He's a commercial pilot. He's Brazilian. He's good looking (Jeff H. told me this). He is a stud Christian. And, yes, ladies...he's single. Pay me $20 and I'll give out his email address.

Our high school basketball legend was Jeff (mentioned above). His jersey is retired. I'm not kidding. His stinking jersey is retired. The church we stayed at had a gym. I challenged him to a game of one on one. Though he was hesitant to take me on (he must have been afraid of my skeeelz), he eventually obliged. I used my mad crossover to blow by him, then threw down a vicious two-handed hammer dunk -- shattering the rim in the process. Err... maybe that's not all true.

Their was the engineer (Ron) and his soon to be married Son (Andrew). It really made me happy to see a father and son work together. They had one obvious mutual interest.... and that was the complete and total destruction of any errant tree branches on the property. You should have seen the look in their eyes when they would spot an out of control tree. Where you and I would see a rat's nest to be avoided....they would see potential. And though they put a ton of hard work into trimming those trees... it really did look a thousand times better. And the fact that they did it together was really cool to me. I pray that I can have that kind of relationship with Luke when he gets older. I have great admiration for both of them.

There were others... and I wish I could have worked with each and every one of them. There is something about manual labor (isn't he the President of Nicaragua?) that brings out the best in guys and I enjoyed each and every one of them....

We had nothing obvious in common, really. We all had our passions and hobbies. Some were married with kids and others single. And all of us are coming from different backgrounds and histories.

But one undeniable thing we all had in common was a desire to serve Christ. Each and every one of us have placed our faith in a loving and caring Savior. We did this trip not out of a desire to do "good things" to impress God. Rather, we served out of humble reverence to the Almighty who was has blessed each and every one in this group greatly.

On a closing note... I have a singular test for "friendship" that has never failed me. I simply ask myself, "Would I go to battle with this person?" If faced with real bullets flying and coming under attack, would I want this person next to me. Would they be cowardly and abandon me? Or would they have honor and integrity? Would they sacrifice for me and I for them? I think it's a question that really cuts to the chase and provides a vivid indicator for true friendship.

Thankfully, I can say that I came out of this week with 9 guys that I would not hesitate to go to battle with. And for that, I am grateful.