Hail to the Redskins!

Wow. That's all I have to say (well, not really... that wouldn't make a very good blog entry). I wrote on here months ago that this football season would bring me some of the highest highs and lowest lows of my year. And, sure enough.... that was true this year.

I honestly felt like crying... literally crawling up in the fetal position, sucking my thumb and hiding in my closet after the Redskins lost to Buffalo 5 games ago. That was the first game after the death of Sean Taylor and the game where the Redskins blew it in heartbreaking fashion with a last second field goal by the other team... and I was seriously depressed for a week (I'm the first to admit that allowing football to affect my moods is insane)

Then... the highest of highs came today. Huge win over the Cowboys to (unbelievably) make the playoffs. Regardless of what happens next week... I am so proud of this team. I really am... and it's games like this that make it so worthwhile suffering through all of the bad seasons and bad losses where the Redskins managed to snatch defeat from the jaws of victory.

Anyway, some observations from the game:

Building Memories: Before we had kids, I envisioned my family getting together on Sundays, going to church and then rooting for the Redskins while we ate gobs of junk food. One of my favorite memories as a kid is watching a Redskins game with my Dad and eating pizza and he let me drink Pepsi directly from the bottle. A simple memory... but a happy one, nonetheless... and I want my kids to experience those simple joys, as well.

So, needless to say, it made me thrilled to no end to have my whole family geared up for the game (well, Will could have cared less). Here's what we looked like:

My kids: Were adorable. Luke was wearing a Santana Moss Jersey and Reagan kept calling him "Moss" and Reagan was wearing a (pink) Jersey and she was going by the name "Cooley" (Redskins player for those that don't know). And I was wearing a Riggins jersey, so they both kept calling me "Riggins"... they did this on their own... it was really cute. It was very 'locker room'..all that was missing was the stench and a towel snap or two at each other's butts (I'll teach Luke how to do that when he's responsible enough to handle the responsibility of using such a weapon

Luke fell in the toilet: Somehow Luke fell in the toilet in the 4th quarter. No big deal, but he was really upset that he couldn't wear his "Moss" Jersey anymore.... and... once he took it off... he wouldn't allow me to call him "Moss" anymore. You see, in his eyes, the jersey is much like Superman's cape... take away the cape and you've just got a dude wearing tights

My kids love Mike Sweetland: Mike is a friend from college. He's my age, single, has a Chuck Norris-esque beard.... no kids, obviously... I only recently discovered he was in this area... but we've managed to hang out 3 or 4 times. Anyway, he has a few nieces and nephews about Reagan and Luke's age, so he's not phased by kids like you would expect a 30-something, single dude with a beard would be. He just goes with the flow and (since he has thoses nieces and nephews) he can speak their language (Dora, Diego, Backyardigans, Webkinz, etc). Anyway, my kids love him and would be quite excited if he visited everyday. Here's a picture Reagan took of me, Luke and Mike:

So, anyway Ladies.... single Christian guy... loves kids... is available. Loves travel and long walks in the park... or... so I assume.

So, to sum up... Great day to be a Redskins fan and Luke fell in the toilet (haven't we all?)...

Where is Christ this Christmas?

Based on the title of this entry, I bet you're thinking I'm going to sermonize about the commercialization of Christmas or wax poetic about the Christmas of my youth.

But, no... not today. Seriously... I took this picture this morning of a gift bag:



See anything wrong?

That's right. Merry Chritmas. Chritmas? What the heck?

How does that get past the gift bag proofers?

Anyway... I could see some Pastor somewhere using that for a sermon illustration... You know, we're so focused on everything else, that we overlook what is the 'reason for the season' so to speak. And, I admit, the point hasn't been lost on me in recent days after I noticed the mistake.

I truly have pondered "Where is Christ this Christmas?"

Then, today, we ordered Papa John's and this was the print out that they put on the box:



And there was the answer to the question I've been pondering these last few days.

Christ is still alive and well this Christmas... and, He apparently works at the Papa John's in Leesburg (as He clearly was the one that managed my "pizza experience")... and I must say, the pizza was quite yummy.

Please God, make Jessica Simpson the next Yoko Ono

Assorted thoughts from the weekend:

(1) The next Yoko..?? Please, Lord!!!! It pains me to admit it... but the Cowboys have done what the Redskins have been incapable of doing for the last decade... and that is build a legitimate team capable of winning the Super Bowl. And it kills me that they've got Captain America (aka Tony Romo) who sprints up and down the field like a school girl that got stung by a bee after every touchdown. But, the truth is... with him at QB (assuming he keeps playing like the second coming of Roger Staubach), they've got a chance to be the team to beat for many years to come in the NFC East. That is why I was delighted to see at yesterdays Philly/Cowboys game that Romo is apparently dating Jessica Simpson (seriously, how could I not know that, as the cameras showed more shots of her in the luxury suite than the actual game). With that obvious distraction, the Cowboys lost. So, I will now pray this prayer at night: "Dear Lord.... Please make Jessica Simpson the next Yoko. Please use Jessica... to distract the Cowboys from greatness... to make her 'break up the band'... just the way you used Yoko to break up the Beatles. Amen."

(2) Give me a microphone in a crowded room... and I'll probably do the Tom Hanks Saturday Night Live "CHECK! CHECK!.... SYBALANCE.... CHECK!" gag. Few people ever get the joke or the reference... but I'll crack myself up along with the one or two other people who know what I'm doing. So...it's worth doing.

Now, if I'm in private and no one is around, and the mic is live.... I would probably say "I've got a fever... and the only prescription is more cowbell..." Again, cracking up myself (though I'm sure a few of you understand that reference). The other thing I would probably do is get my rock star on and say: "Welcome to the jungle baby! You're gonna die!" Which is why I cracked up when I read this story. I can just picture the poor old school teacher with the bun in her hair locking herself in the art supply closet in pure unadulterated fear. Classic.

(3) Right at the start of the third quarter in a must-win game for the Redskins, the power went out. Normally this woudn't be a problem (well, it would be an inconvenience... I don't like to miss any of the game)... I'd just hop in the car and hit the bar around the corner... Well, in this case, the baby (Will) was down stairs with me so that I could give him his late (11 p.m.) bottle. In my psycho mindframe, I briefly (for like a millisecond) considered whether it was possible to take Will with me. Thankfully, sanity prevaled and I realized the ridiculousness of such a thought (that and that power came back on).

(4) You know something is genuinely funny when you've watched something a bunch and then you laugh at it again the next time you see it. In honor of that sentiment, I present to you Miss Teen South Carolina:

Those poor "U.S. American" kids that can't afford...such as... maps and stuff.

On that note... gotta run...

I am a juvenile....

I have developed quite the reputation for office practical jokes. I've done so many, I can't even remember them all. From fake company memos to spoofed Washington Post articles to a "shock mouse" (which hurts like a mother)... I've pulled all the tricks out of my bag...

Which brings me to today. Friday afternoons are traditionally slow days at work. I think everyone in my line of business packs it in around Thursday. Well, today was particularly slow because our email was down and my co-worker, Jason (the one I interact with most frequently) left for half a day. And, so... well, I was bored. So I:

(1) Changed his wallpaper to this People magazine cover featuring Lance Bass. I told you I was juvenile...

But... that only took me about 2 seconds... so, then..

(2) I decided to change his email notification noise to the sound of a fart. Yes... that's right... a fart. For those wondering how you even find such a noise... I merely googled "fart .wav" and, behold... google bestowed upon me a bounty of fart noises (some short, some long and some "check your shorts" ones). For this task, I chose the "check your shorts" options. I sent him a test email and, sure enough, I heard the distinctive "rrrrrrrrrrrrrrriiiiiiiiiippppppp" of my chosen fart.

But, again, this only took a couple of seconds. So, basically, I changed every single possible noise on his computer to a fart.

Turn on the computer. Fart

Turn off the computer. Fart

Open up an application. Fart

Type anything. Fart, Fart, Fart

You get the idea. But, I did it to so many things... I don't even know how to undue it all. And the noise is so prevalent now, that his computer sounds terribly gassy... even when no one is sitting at the desk. Basically, his computer needs Bean-o .... badly.

Anyway, he won't get back until Tuesday. I'll let you know how it goes.... rrrrrrrrrrrrrrriiiiiip.

Assorted Details from the Hospital...

My son, Will, was born December 5th. Here are some details/musings from the event:

The Dilemma: Ever since the Redskins announced their 2007 schedule, I had plans to attend the December 6th, Thursday night football game with my lifelong friend, George Boomer. I've known him since the 2nd grade, as George and I grew up in the same church. We were also college roommates. Anyway... the 12/6 date has been circled on my calendar for some time. Well, as it turns out, Will decided to come 5 days late.... a mere day before kickoff. So, at some point, Kelly starts having major contractions and we have the following conversation:

Me: "I should probably call George now and let him know I can't make it"

Kelly: "No, don't do that! I want you to go to the game"

Me: "The game is not important right now... I would never leave you at the hospital while I was at a game"

Kelly: "No.. don't ca..."

(she pauses to deal w/ a painful contraction)

Kelly (continued): "OK. You can call him."

Unreal. I would imagine that 99% of the pregnant women in America that are having contractions and are about to go into labor would never consider for one minute wanting their husband to "go to the game" the next day.

Now, I did watch the game in the hospital room. But it was awkward sitting back several feet and having to wrench my head to see the TV mounted way up on the wall. It was uncomfortable and I didn't feel part of the game (my viewing does make a difference to the outcome of the game). So I stood on a chair so that I could get eye level. While not the glorious HD viewing available in my living room....it actually wasn't that bad (picture above). While I watched, Kelly slept.

So, to summarize... Kelly wanted me to go the game while she was going into labor. Once I put my foot down on that idea, she demanded that I, at least, watch the game even while she was recovering.

Friends, this is a good woman and I love my wife.

The "I'll never see these people again" Moment: I felt bad that Kelly would have to sit in the hospital bed while I was watching the Redskins game. So, I wanted to get something to entertain her. And, given the confined circumstances, I knew there was only one thing that would provide cheap and accessible entertainment thrills for Kelly... celebrity gossip. So, I offer to pick up a People or US Magazine while I'm out picking up dinner. Kelly jumps at this before I could really think this through... because... well, no straight man should ever buy People or US magazine... and offering to "pick up" one of these magazines meant I'd have to "buy"...in person one of these magazines. Yikes!

So, anyway... I walk into the CVS. I immediately see a People magazine at the front counter. But, for some reason, I can't just go right in.. buy the magazine and leave. So, I walk around the aisles. I grab a small bag of chips. A candy bar. Then I walk up the checkout where I saw the People magazine. I throw up my items on the counter and the guy starts ringing them up. Then, I casually throw the People Magazine on the counter. Seriously, it was a move swiped from the 15 year-old boy's textbook on how to buy a dirty magazine or a six pack of beer. It's as if there is something innate in us males that thinks we can distract the cashier from our true purchase if we only distract him with a bag of fritos and a snickers bar.

At any rate, I bought the stinking magazine, put my head down and made a bee-line for my car.

Sacrifice, my friends.... it's part of what makes our marriage successful.

My favorite moment: Alright, I'll end on more a serious note. When Will was born... and with Reagan and Luke, as well... I'm not in this instant euphoric state of "love"... I know others have that feeling. For me, I'm really kind of in shock. I love my children...and I would lay down my life for each and every one of them from the moment I know they are in the womb. But, it takes me a couple of days to become "in love" with them. It's hard to explain... I guess I just need a little nudge and, for lack of a better word, bonding time with them.

Well, Kelly is NOT that way. She loves and is "in love" with the baby from the day she sees the two lines on the pregancy test (I, on the other hand, am usually in denial for a few days). Before they are born, she dreams about them... she thinks about them constantly and is in continual prayer for them. So, when the baby finally is born, my favorite moment is watching Kelly as she lays her eyes on the baby for the first time. I can see the love she has for them. I saw it when Reagan was born and when Luke was born and now with Will. It's worth waiting the 9 months... and 60 years from now when I'm old and decrepid and recovering from a broken hip and have forgotten most everything about the day my children were born, I pray to God that I will never forget that moment in time when Kelly saw each of our children for the very first time.

Baby Will

First of all....if you are pregnant and wondering whether or not to get an epidural......GET IT! It is awesome. Also wanted to let everyone know that I just uploaded a billion pictures to our photo website. Click on the photo album link to the right.

Will is here!

Don't have much time... have to run back to the hospital... but Will is here (officially William Charles Faircloth... named after her dad, William and my dad, Charles). 9 pounds, 1.6 ounces of pure twisted steel -- in other words, a chip off the old block. Oh, and he was 21 inches if that means anything to you. He looks alot like Reagan did when she was a baby w/a full head of hair. Kelly is doing well and resting (somewhat) comfortably.

More later.

Past Due and Way Preggo (this is Kelly posting)

In case anyone is wondering.....I'M STILL PREGNANT! For anyone that has not been pregnant before, let me just fill you in on what is going on with my body. I'll start at the top:

my eyes have big bags underneath them from not sleeping. i get up anywhere from 2-4 times at night to go to the bathroom and i wake up every hour or so to toss and turn because i'm that uncomfortable

my face is chubby and big and oh so unattractive

my boobs are gigantic

my stomach is even more gigantic-er

my fingers are puffy and my rings do not fit (so i look un-wed and pregnant)

my back aches

my hips are very, very wide

my thighs rub together and are getting chafed

my ankles and feet are swollen

As you can tell, I am such a hotty these days. Please pray for me that this baby comes very, very soon. I don't know how much longer I can take it. Actually, I don't know how much longer Scott can take all my complaining.

A Story of Betrayal

I first met Brian at his wedding 10 years ago. He was, like me, a recent college grad marrying the love of his life, who just so happened to be my wife's best friend since 1st grade.

We instantly hit it off. He was an incredible golfer and I, well... I enjoyed playing golf with an incredible golfer. We both shared a passion for sports. He mostly Golf, Ohio State football and... later on... an unfortunate bond to NASCAR. I, on the other hand, loved Golf as well and (as has been well documented) a die-hard Redskins fan.

He was a Republican, as I was...and we both considered naming our first born daughter Reagan (we just happened to beat them to the punch). We spent countless hours talking about politics, golf, our families while our wives talked about.... well... I'm not real sure what women talk about when they get together.

Over the last 10 years our families, have had some memorable times together. We camped at Lake Tygart in West Virginia where Brian and Lisa (his wife) had an impressive aray of virtually every camping item Walmart made available (seriously... I mean their tent had a porch and they even had the sandwich maker). On that same trip, we visited a nearby "water park" that advertised a water "slide".... certainly they meant "slides" plural, we thought. But, sure enough, it was just one "slide"... singular. But we had a great time, nonetheless. Other vacations together, took us to such locations as Daytona Beach, Disney World, Virginia Beach and Charleston.

One memorable trip to their house took us to the Licking County Ice Cream (yes, licking) festival. We envisioned hundreds of varieties of ice cream flavors and festivities galore. Instead there were about 3 varieties of ice cream (chocolate, strawberry and vanilla) and something called "Roller Girl".... who we were very excited to see because in our mind's eye we pictured a dynamic talent that would do back flips and stunts on roller skates and we would cheer and chant for more, more, more! Instead, we got a 40 year old overweight woman in tights who skated around the parking lot. Yet, the bond of kinship between us was so tight that we had a great time nonetheless... and I thought it would last a lifetime.

One other crucial detail we had in common was our love for Fords. Over the last decade, Kelly and I have only owned Ford's (except for a brief tango with a VW Beetle) and I will always remain a committed "Ford" man. May God strike me down should I ever waver in my commitment. God, Home, Country and Ford... that's the way I see it... And Brian did as well. Over that same time period, Brian and his wife have owned no less than 12 Ford vehicles (they buy cars about as frequently as we buy toothpaste... about once a month). We would talk about our Ford's together. He would marvel at "Black Thunder" and how reliable it was. And I would ask him with excitement about his Explorer, his Focus, his Mercury (make no mistake... A Ford Product), his Contour, his other Focus, his other Explorer, and his other Focus and other Explorer.

When the time came to get rid of Black Thunder, I welled with pride as I told him its replacement... a 2006 Ford Fusion.

So, when he called me over the weekend and told me he was going out to buy another car... I automatically assumed it would be proud Ford purchase #13. I raved about my Fusion. The smooth accelleration, the improved styling on the interior and the look. I hung up feeling confident I had persuaded him to get the Fusion... After all, the decision was merely between getting a Focus, Fusion or Five-Hundred (now tempo)... I mean... he wouldn't... no.. he couldn't... he would never... ever... in a million years betray our Ford bond... our Ford air-tight, forged in real American Steel Ford bond.... right?

Wrong! He bought a Civic. A CIVIC! Japa - frickin - nese! Unbelievable! The Betrayal!

I'm re-evaluating our friendship.

Guys, it's time to take back Thanksgiving

For 2 centuries, Thanksgiving has been about family, friends and food. Of course, there's always been the turkey, the gravy, the sweet potatoes, and various horrendous dishes that your aunt insists everyone loves (seriously, who eats that green marshmallowy stuff...it's just gross). And for 2 centuries, for all that Thanksgiving is....it has just lacked a certain something. And that certain something is.... DANGER. Thankfully, however, this void has been filled in recent years by the most ingenious invention of our time.... the Turkey Fryer.

This year, I fried...err... survived frying my third turkey (this practically makes me a veteran). And it was magical. Nothing fuels your body with testosterone and adrenaline like a little danger.... and with a propane tank fueling an open flame pumping out serious heat that boils highly flammable oil that threatens to spill over at any minute... the Turkey Fryer delivers on some serious testosterone inducing danger!

In fact, the danger is so well-known that if you tell someone you are going to fry a turkey, you will start feeling like Ralphie from a Christmas Story (you know... "you'll shoot your eye out"). I told probably 10 people that I was going to fry a turkey this year and, inevitably, they will say 'be careful' or 'aren't those a huge fire hazard'....

And, well...yes.... yes, they are huge fire hazards.... but... that's kind of the idea... but with risk comes great reward.... and the truth is that no other method of cooking a turkey can rival frying it. It's just that good. Therefore...I declare... here and now... that every man must go out and buy a Turkey fryer of their very own. It's the suburban equivalent of climbing Everest. That is... dangerous.... but once you've done it... you'll be admired and exhalted by your peers (that is, the next door neighbors) and you'll be plotting your next conquest. And, in reality, I survived this year and can't wait for next year.

So men.... it's time to take back Thanksgiving. It's time to take the Turkey away from your wife... away from your mother... or away from your mother-in-law. No more of those unnatural oven bags that produce a soggy Turkey (do you think the Pilgrims used those? I think not). Say goodbye, once and for all to the Thanksgiving Turkey that is cooked in the relative safety of a modern kitchen (what fun is that?). We must re-introduce the danger that was present at the first Thanksgiving... We must be resolute.... and, from this point forward, we must all fry our Turkeys....

....Just be careful not to burn your house down.