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.