Now it's Feeling Like Summer

The weather has been unpredictable, and looking at the progress of my greens, I think I got a late start from seed. But look - some of this stuff is going to find the dinner table soon! There were some innocent young chard leaves that fell prey to what I suspect was a vicious band of hungry thug bunnies.

The pert jalapeño pictured below is from friends Brian and Ari, who donated some young poblanos and heirloom tomatoes as well.  I'm hoping the heat will send the peas quickly up their trellis, and warm the soil for the successive beans.

I will be buying my veggies from the grocery for a few more weeks. Patience <sigh>.

Greens. On the Way.

Update for the Memorial Day weekend.

There are now several distinctly different greens popping up. I think I even see some cilantro and parsley, but that's unconfirmed. Tomato and pepper plants are going in shortly. Neither lemongrass nor lavender have germinated as far as I can tell.

To do differently at the next go: sew fewer seeds, farther apart. I have a lot of greens to thin as they begin crowding.

Life!

Buttercrunch Lettuce sprouts.

Word on the Mets

This year's Mets. Fun. Their payroll is deceptive, because the bulk of that money is apparently being payed to players who have been traded or are injured or are victims of Bernie Madoff. Most of the roster comprises scrappy young dudes eager to make a mark. I miss Jose Reyes, but his replacement Ruben Tejada, who is maybe 14 years old, is fun to watch. I've liked Daniel Murphy since he came up. He's getting better - will never be a star, but is a good spirited player capable of clutch play (possibly). Seems like a key guy. David Wright is hitting like he's always been billed - a franchise guy. Ike Davis is a lefty Jew at 1st, so he'll have to be below the Mendoza at mid-summer before I criticize. And in place of some dude who was injured at centerfield on opening day, Kirk Nieuieuwenheyessses is totally killing it with diving catches and clutch hitting. Also he looks like a dude who hangs out at the local guitar shop. 

This is in comparison to the local Sox, who are at this moment on a tear, but up to this streak have been a lumbering, underwhelming disappointment machine. And to the Yankees, who are always on a Mets fan's radar, but geezis if they don't have an unlikable lineup (sorry, Yanks friends), especially now that Nick Swisher is their top character guy...blech.

I'm happy this season to take a shade over .500, if it comes with the vibe the Mets have been playing with thus far. Though I will wear my Red Sox hat too.

Seeds in the Ground!

I sowed some seeds in the dirt today. Yes! Let's see: since my last update, I got a little sidetracked clearing out some brambles and planting some ground cover on the woods-side of our house. The garden was dormant for a little bit after I threw a bunch of loam in the beds and doctored them up with compost and peat. I ordered seeds and received a rattling little envelope a few days ago. Very excited.

Here's how sowing went:

Added bonemeal to the carrot plot. I'm told this is good for root veggies. Apparently, it is also good for dogs. Guess I'll be dealing with that problem soon.

The directions on the back of lavender seed packet: cover 4x the seed depth [or something like that]. These seeds were flea sized. Poppy seed sized. What the hell does that direction mean, huh? I put them in the ground and covered them with some dirt.

Greens, squash, and a couple herbs sown. Cukes and most herbs wait a few more weeks for the soil to warm. Tomatoes and peppers are coming as transplants from a friend, also in warmer soil. Peas and parsley I 'm supposed to pre-germinate-soak before I put 'em in the ground this weekend. Okay.

If nothing grows, I did see promise of a lucrative venture with invasive beetle grubs.

So! Once all the seeds were in and the popsicle sticks were placed, I dusted off to check out my work. It looked desolate. Bonneville-Salt-Flats-desolate. I can really see the benefit of starting indoors - when you put the seedlings in the ground you have some miniplants to encourage your efforts.

Sure hoping to see some sprouts soon!

There's Two of Them!

Just finished the 2nd bed, which was a little trickier because it wraps around the corner of the deck. The slope of the ground made it necessary to have 2 tiers. The stack will also allow plenty of soil depth for me to unsuccessfully grow the root veggies I've planned. I wish I remember how Michael Pollan solved his carrot problem as described in Second Nature. I should probably read it again. Belated thanks to Ethan for that recommendation.
There's a really big garden center a couple miles away that has been great for all my questions and wandering-around-while-envisioning. I bought a bag of bonemeal which should give me the strength I need to do all this soil hauling that lies ahead. First, math. I convert cubic feet to cubic yards by dividing by 9, right? Ugh.
I imagine this is as excited as I'll ever be to pay money for dirt and poop.

Next up: filling the beds.

Lumberrrrr!

There's 2 kinds of wood available to build these raised beds: cedar, which is beautiful and rot resistant, and not-cedar, which is affordable for a normal person. I bought the lumber yesterday and it was delivered this morning, and with a couple of hours I was able to get most of the first bed done. Tomorrow I'll add some wire mesh inside the box to keep out gophers ["License to kill gophers by the government of the United Nations..."]. I didn't buy enough 2x4 to finish the mitered cap around the bed, which will be good for sitting and sipping lemonade while contemplating the bare patch of dirt that was intended to yield some crop.

• My lovely wife took Caleb for a long walk so I could work uninterrupted on this sucker. xo
• Surprisingly gratifying garden task: raking soil level. Oh baby.
• Note to self: buy more ibuprofen.

Frame leveled and secured to 4x4 posts.

Almost there. Essbee loping over to look for edibles.

Spider with ability to become 1/10th its original size when picture is taken.

Next up: finish the cap around the bed, add mesh, figure out volume of soil and compost needed to fill

And it begins...

Yesterday I drove up to Westford to pick up a wheelbarrow from a dude for $10 bucks. He had some good hand tools he threw in for a few more. I wanted to get moving on building the raised beds. Oh yeah — raised beds! Why?

1) I'm planting two beds and they are both on a slope;
2) I'm planting over a french drain that I can't dig up;
3) I like the idea of more control over the soil content and drainage;
4) Harder for the dogs to piss in.

So there's going to be two of them. One will be between the deck and patio for the most sun-loving of the crop. The other is butted against the deck lattice (for peas to climb) and wraps around the corner of the house for a few more feet of space.

This morning I started digging to make channels for the timber. The soil is surprisingly loamy feeling once I removed the rocks, enough to fill the wheelbarrow. There was such a dense layer beneath the topsoil that I assume it was pushed-aside detritus from some major landscaping in the past or the house's construction in the 30's. Incidentally, if you'd like to buy some rocks. I have lots.

Here's a shot of the dug out and sifted-through footprint of the bed. 

I'm including a shot of Caleb because's he crazy cute right now.

Next up: building the first raised bed

Let's Get Ready to Bumble!

The unexpected appearance of May here in New England March has me setting out to plant my first vegetable garden. The weather has been so nice and my excitement such that I'm not even going to waste time giving a back story. I want home-grown salad and I want it now. Plants grow faster if you scream at them, right?

While I introduce the project, let's hold our tongues and assume I'm well aware of the potential disappointment lurking in a rookie's garden. Here's what I'm working with: my backyard has a sloping hillside across its width and is predominantly partial shade. There's a pretty sweet spot between our small deck and the lower lying patio that gets good (though not full) sun.

I'm going to plant lettuce (a few varieties), kale, chard, zukes, carrots, potatoes, cherry and slicing tomatoes, snap peas, some peppers, and a stacked crop of herbs. The over/under on how many full salads I get from this garden by the end of the summer...3....maybe 5? We'll see. The Feedbag will certainly benefit from documenting a new project, and I'm hoping I'll get some choice advice from you dear readers.

Next up: layout

Fandom in Massachusetts

Super Bowl VVVVVVVVVIIIIX is this weekend, and it's a weird one for me. As I've documented in the blog and by word of mouth, I've questioned my allegiance to the Washington Redskins and their mostly-reprehensible football organization. After moving to Massachusetts this past summer I was even more curious how regional ties and home-team coverage would affect me. I was able to watch 6 (or so) 'Skins games this season. They're still bad. I'm used to that. This season however, there was a tinge of scrappy youth that timidly emerged at points, peaking with Roy Helu's undersized explosiveness towards the end of the season. To my wife's dismay I'm still a fan.

The thing is, I also watched most of the Pats games on tv. They're cool. Most importantly: their owner is a mensch, not a slimeball; Belichick is brilliant; Tom Brady. A Redskin fan is so acclimated to sub-mediocre quarterbacking and coaching, that Brady/Belichick is shocking to watch on a regular basis. More than shocking, its enjoyable.

So what about this Super Bowl. I still feel more New York than New England, but as a Skins fan the Giants are enemies. Becky has insisted that the Super Bowl has never been as hyped and ubiquitously reported as it is this year. At our new jobs our coworkers show their Pats spirit to a degree we never saw in New York. Women! Women are bonkers for the Pats here, and it's not just because of Tom Brady's face. So, Becky is rooting for the G-men. I'm rooting for the Pats. But if they lose and I see pictures of New Yorkers partying in the streets, I'll probably get a little homesick. At least there's the Mets. Yipes.

Huh? Whuh? Where am I!?

It has been a year since my last Feedbag entry. Why so long, you ask? Never mind that. Aside from my occupation, number of children in household, and city and state of residence, little has changed. What's that you say – sounds like 2 lifestyle changes more than a sane person should make in a short span of time? If I heard you correctly in that assertion, then yes, you are correct.

Current state of affairs: dad to Caleb McCarthy Strauss; living in a Boston suburb where thin crust pizza is a fools errand; addition through extended borrowing of one dog, EssBee; substitute teacher in the towns of Belmont and Lexington; homestead situated next to large tract of wooded reserve.

So here we are. There is a simmering pot of chili to my left that tomorrow will be delivered to friends who just had a baby. Caleb is asleep upstairs, and every day he grows more lovable and entertaining. Becky is working late – she is a professional nurse now, deftly ascending a steep learning curve. She looks totally cute but no-nonsense in her scrubs and specs. There is a new bike project - the Cubmobile for springtime - waiting downstairs in the work room. Substitute teaching; the house and its projects; missing Brooklyn - I'll get to those.

Strauss in the House

Baby is close. Not here yet, but it's very close. There is a bit of juicy news concerning his name. And mine. And soon, Becky's.

We are taking my Grampa's last name, Strauss. In fact, as I type this I am legally, Jesse Benjamin Schmal Strauss. Becky is going to catch up after she finishes the craziness of getting her nursing license, at which point she will be Rebecca Colleen McCarthy Strauss. Little Straussling on the way will be _________ McCarthy Strauss.

I'm pretty excited about this for several reasons. When we got married and Becky kept her name, it was all good. However, once this little Straussling emerged on the horizon, we were faced with the last name problem. I was not into hyphenating our kid's name, not one bit. We both felt kind of weird about one of us taking the other's last name. Starting our family together with a new, yet personally significant name, seems like an equitable solution.

My Grampa, Ernest Strauss, was a stupendous individual. He was absolutely likable, faithful, intelligent, wrly humorous, easy-going, and the patriarch of our clan. Becky and I wear his and my Nana's wedding rings (and if you knew my Nana and Grampa, you knew their marriage as one worth emulating). Also, Grampa had two daughters: my mom, and my Aunt Karin, so 'Strauss' had been retired as a last name in our family. I hope bringing it back is an honor to him.

And so my driver's license, followed by the rest of my wallet, will identify me as Jesse Strauss. My dad has been incredibly cool in understanding the reasons for the change. I'm counting on my little brother Mike to eventually make some Schmal babies. And, you can probably cross out 'Levi' and 'Johann' from any baby name guessing.

Summy

A week and a half ago, Becky and I had to say goodbye to our dog, Summer. Summy, 13 years old, had been having problems the last year with her heart, but more than that she had several stroke-like episodes that were difficult to diagnose, but were related to the whole old-doggie package. Two Sundays ago we woke up to another of these episodes, and knew things were only going to get worse for her.

Becky had been with Summer for 10 years when Maggie and I Brady-bunched up with them. I am so lucky that I met Bec in time to spend 3 years with Summy, the most adorable dog I've ever met. Now I'm part of a club that's great in number but select in its bond: fulfilling the painful and emotionally-requisite contract of dog ownership. We will miss Summer so much. Our son, coming around the bend, will be subjected to incessant Summy-stories. Sorry, kiddo.

Here are some of the things we will tell him:

When we woke up in the morning, she would fetch a squeaky toy, hop on our bed and then make the toy squeak

Her ears smelled like brownie batter

Smiley

She'd kick her leg when you found the right belly spot

Going up the stairs she looked like a lamb

Her inquisitive head tilt

Her single, irrepressible doorbell yelp

Great company in the car

She followed us everywhere in the apartment, and if we were at two ends of the apartment, she'd lie down in the middle

She ate a whole vole, whole.

After a bath, she's run around the apartment, rubbing against ever piece of furniture and rug she could get to.

She took off into a lake after some ducks, and swam out 50 yards before I freaked out, undressed and swam out to get her (it was cold and rainy). When I got to her and lifted her out of the water, she continued air-swimming.

She was the Ring Bearer at our wedding.

When she farted, it startled her, and she would run away from it.

No tail. Wigglebutt.

Her bouncy ears when she walked

She would spin around when her dinner was being prepared.

She'd poke her head into the bathroom if one of us was in there.

We called her Noodgie, Noodgers, Shloopie, Shlampy, Chomps, Chompers, Summy, Sumsum, Summybear, Monsterbear, Munchkinbear, and Wiggles. And Summer, of course.

We love you, Summy, and always will.

It's Been Too Long, Fish Stew

A few of you have commented on my lack of blog entries since, um...September...2010. Anyway, a few things have been going on in the interim.
Becky and I are expecting our son in a matter of a couple weeks
Becky graduated from NYU nursing in December
We turned her office into a nursery
We said bye to our beloved dog, Summer (which I'm going to post about right after this because I'm stalling)

It's easier for me to jump back into the Feedbag by posting the recipe for tonight's dinner, which I was incredibly pleased with.

****
Incredibly Pleasing Fish Stew

in a heavy dutch oven type pot:
brown 1 finely diced onion with 1 tsp crushed red pepper in scant 1/4 c. EVO
add
1 28oz. can peeled plum tomatoes (drained & chopped)
1 cup white wine (fruity, not dry)
1-1/2 tsp salt
and reduce by 1/2

then, add and bring to a simmer:
2 cups water
1 celery stalk sliced
2 or 3 carrots sliced
1 medium potato 1/2 in. dice
1-1/2 Tbs. smoked paprika (Spanish)
1 bay leaf
1/2 tsp white or black pepper
4 or 5 capers
1 tsp lemon zest
1 tsp carraway seed

while this simmers:
in a saucepan, brown 2 links (approx. 1/2 lb) hot sausage* sliced (italian
drain if it yields a lot of fat
add sausage to the simmering stew, then,
melt 2 tbs. butter in the sauce pan, stir in scant 1/4 c. flour
once browned and clumpy, stir in 2 cups water
stir till even & thickened, then add to pot

*Because of my wife, I used this really delicious vegetarian sausage made by Field Roast Grain Meat Co., but I don't recommend the substitute unless you're sure you like it)

return stew to simmer, then,
add a few dashes of tabasco
chopped kale/chard/spinach (1 small bunch)
chopped parsley (a handful)
and simmer for another 10 minutes (until carrots, potatoes are soft)

add pieces of fish (1lb delicious mild fish like cod/mahi/tilapia) and simmer gently for another 3-6 minutes (depending on thickness), until fish is cooked through.

serve with a squirt of fresh lemon over the stew and some crusty bread.
oh baby.

Baby

There's a sizable development here that I've yet to chatter about on the Feedbag: Becky and I are going to have our first child in February. Writing about it is awkward in that so many of my closest friends have already become parents, so that anything I'm experiencing is uninteresting in its late-to-the-party status. I'm going to go ahead anyway. Sometimes being the last one to do something everyone does makes you really appreciate it - puberty, dating and The Wire, all solid examples for me.

We're having a boy. I'm extremely excited about this. If it were a girl I'd be extremely excited too. After 4 months of referring to our kid as 'it', the gender assignation made this seem all the more real and approaching. That said, our boy is still only a legume-like person and I'm already judging names for the lad on their infield potential.

Names: oh my god. What a challenge. I just dug up the Nicolas Cage SNL skit on naming a baby. Paraphrased:

Telegram for Mr Asswipe Johnson! Dear Asswipe and Emily...

Um...that's Oz-wee-pay.

As we tear through these baby name books it's amazing how few we consider. We can easily categorize the overwhelming majority into any number of feckless or unwanted character-types: Runny-nose/Park Slope/Date-Rape/Country-Club/Lacrosse-Douche/Basement-Dweller/Gun-Rack/A-Rod/Hobo/Punching-Bag/Weirdo

Inevitably, I can't ensure he'll be a cool and happy kid. We can only do our best. As I told my mom about how nerve-wracking I find the sonogram appointments - in needing to know everything is okay - she said get used to it. With kids, that's the rest of your life.

Bike Riding in Massachusetts

Today I tried to tackle my first century - a 100 mile ride. Becky and I are in Massachusetts - I had already gotten in touch with a fellow vintage bike nerd in the area and he was already planning to do the century, so we met up at Lexington High School just a few minutes from the McCarthy's door, and the starting point for the ride, which was organized by local bike advocacy organization, Mass Bike. My riding buddy Neal saved the day by bringing a small bolt to replace a missing one that I'd only discovered last night. We hit the road at 8am. The scenery was beautiful, the weather unbelievable, and the route map...terrible. The course was roughly the shape of a figure 8, with the smaller top loop 40 miles and the lower, 60 miles (called a metric century). The intersection of the two loops was where one could decide to continue on the lower loop for the metric, or add the top loop for the full 100 mile century. Unfortunately, is was also where the course map was least clear. We missed a turn, improvised a little, then found our markers again; however, when we questioned our location and got our bearings, we found out we were a good ways around the lower loop on our way to the finish instead of chugging along in the upper loop of the century. Rather than turn around and initiate what would have meant a triple-cover of the same ground and who-knows-how-many-more miles than intended, we settled for the 60 miles and a more immediate BBQ lunch. It was a tasty defeat.

I finished with a stronger desire to do the 100 miles soon, a satisfaction that 60 was pretty good, proof that my new Gazelle is a reliable steed, and a growing feeling that I would love living in this area.

Why didn't anybody tell me?!

I'm thinking of words - semantics and pronunciations - at the moment, solely because I'm watching the Mets, and Keith Hernandez just said fustrated (sic.) twice in the last inning. Does Keith:

1. think the word is actually fustrated?
2. not get corrected because it's touchy to correct a person's language foibles, let alone Keith Hernandez's?
3. use some sort of broadcaster's trick in this instance, to cleanly deliver a word which if attempted in the correct manner, would give him trouble?

Myself, I find it hilarious when I've been pronouncing something incorrectly and someone points it out to me. The older I am and the more common the word, the better.

I learned that Massachusetts wasn't pronounced Massachusess, while I was in college.

Becky laughed when I made some reference to Faneuil Hall, as Fuh-neel Hall.

The claws on a bird of prey: tal(as in gal)-lahns. Tal-lahns.

One of my favorite jokes from The Simpsons:

Bart's teacher's name is Krabappel? I've been calling her Crandall! Why didn't anybody tell me?

June

So, yikes - it's the end of June. My first season coaching is over, trophies and pizza to wrap it up for the dudes. My first semester is over, as is the first of my 2 summer sessions. The second starts next week and includes Educational Foundations and Teaching Science in the Elementary Classroom (the latter I'm totally excited about).

The Mets are leading the majors in grand slams allowed, which I'm finding to be one of the least pleasant superlatives to watch your team achieve. The U.S. exited the World Cup - disappointing, as I was really getting into the team vibe. I'll root for the Dutch now, because they're orange and fun and I just got a dutch Gazelle road frame from the late 70's.

I received the unexpected birthday present of selling one of my bikes to Wyatt Cenac of the Daily Show. We are not new-best-friends yet, but there's time.

Becky and I have a full-season of weddings to attend from now through December, having only knocked-out Buffalo thus far, and peaking Labor Day weekend when we'll be attempting a New-Jersey-New-Hampshire-Saturday-Sunday-flip-twist-turnpike. 5.8 difficulty (out of 6).

There have been some mighty achievements in the kitchen the last 2 months. These include:

fish tacos with fresh tortillas and avocado/sour-cream sauce

artichoke and tomatillo soup with blended white beans (this was a home run as far as warm-weather soups go)

and this plate of pasta from last night, which while simple, was so summery fresh (it's all in the peas, kids!), that even brutal 90-degree-quilt-like-humidity couldn't stop the chow-down.

The Blind Side and Mercy Rules

Saturday was The Firebirds' 4th game of the season, and as Coach Andrew was out of town, it was just me in the dugout with the boys. We were playing a team we'd received advance warning on, and true to that warning, they were big hitters and they played like an experienced squad. What can I say - we lost 12-0, called in the fourth on the Mercy Rule, but the boys played well. I know this coaching thing is a good match for me when I still have a great time on the wrong end of a Mercy Rule game, and it seemed like despite the score, my guys had a good time too. They're totally starting to gel as a team, at least as far as pre-game horseplay is concerned. It's pretty easy to see improvement week to week in their skills, especially the kids who started a little behind the others. When the guys that haven't got the bat on the ball once in a game do it for the first time, it's honestly thrilling. We missed some basic baseball concepts that will be addressed at Wednesday's practice, but really - as long as the team looks like they're having fun, I think I'm doing my job well.

Last night, Bec and I finally saw the Blind Side. She loved it; I was entertained. For the first 30 minutes of the movie I could barely look at that sad kid's sadder face, even though I knew it was going to turn out well. My simple review would be this: there wasn't enough football to be a movie about football; there wasn't enough tension to be a movie about race and class. I think maybe it was a movie about motherhood, but there wasn't enough of the other kids in the family. I'm just going to have to read Lewis's book. Maybe that will help me understand how Joe Theismann's broken leg fit into the movie's bookends. At the very least, I now have more respect for Sandra Bullock and her somewhat appliance-like face.

Put Me In, Coach!

A friend from Hunter, Andrew, and I quickly found out that we both like sports, more importantly - baseball. This lead to the following exchange at happy hour after we finished our last midterm:

A: Dude, I've been meaning to ask you - would you be interested in coaching a little league* team with me?
J: Absolutely.
A: Sweet!

A few days later I found myself as a coach, at my first youth baseball practice ever. My list of realistic regrets is pretty short, but not playing youth baseball myself, is in the top 3. Never mind the personal history there - I swear I could've been a solid 1st baseman (lefty that I am) - 4 practices and one official game into this season and I must say it's stupendously fun. Saturday, the Prospect Park Baseball Association opened the season with a parade in Park Slope that went down Seventh Ave and up 9th st to the Park, with a local marching band leading the way. The streets were filled with teams, coaches and family. Then later in the day we had our game. I suppose I should report that we did not emerge victors, but isn't the score fun-against-fun when it's 9 - 2? Wait...how does that saying go...I better look it up. Really, I was very proud watching our guys out there stealing bases (yes!), striking out the other team's little dudes (yes!), and even blasting a couple deep shots. We had the bases loaded a few times but couldn't bring 'em home. Luckily, there's a whole season ahead of us to figure that one out. While walking the dogs I'm finding myself thinking of drills to run in practice, and now that we have this game under our belt, I'm thinking of what we did well and what needs work. There were a lot of smiles in the dugout and I think we've got a pretty scrappy Bad-News Bears vibe kicking around, which is good because I'm a big Walter Matthau fan.


*technically, not Little League. It's a local Brooklyn organization.