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.