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.

Julie and Julia

The wife and I just finished dinner* followed by Julie and Julia. It was pretty enjoyable to watch, though I came away with this demanding question: at what point did someone decide they should compromise Meryl Streep and Stanley Tucci's screentime for Amy Adams and Noname McGhee? Streep is amazing and hilarious in her subtle play on over the top character — physically: brilliant. If I had been producing this, I would have read the script, said, "Great. Now ditch the present with blogging and the whining and make a biopic about Julia Child". I would say for movies about food, Big Night (a bigger role for Tucci) is still tops. But, we did enjoy spotting my old Park Slope subway stop in one scene, along with a neighborhood bistro that was used a few times. Also, I now have a mind to try making Buerre Blanc, maybe for a special occasion.

*Unintentionally, I stuck with the theme of the movie by trying something myself for the first time in the kitchen tonight. I poached fish in olive oil. Verdict: delicious. Surprisingly not oily, and without the waterlogged consistency that's hard to avoid when poaching in water.