Jeffrey gave it to him on Memorial Day. We in the car with the windows rolled down, on the way to a picnic. The wind was blowing William’s hair around, and he was gurgling and cooing in his lovable Wimmy-way.
“Mom,” said Jeffrey, “when the wind is in Wimmy’s hair, he looks just like Jack Norris.”
Who?
“Jack Norris,” he repeated. “He’s a guy who looks just like Wimmy.”
Brian and I were puzzled by this. Who in the world is Jack Norris? How on earth did Jeffrey learn about him? We immediately thought of Chuck Norris, but Jeffrey has never seen any of his films (and hopefully, he never will).
“Jeffrey, can you tell me what Jack Norris does?” I ask.
“He’s a guy who runs around really fast,” he replies. “And he’s a dwarf.”
Uh-huuuuuuh.
This was ALL we’ve been able to get out of Jeffrey about who this Jack Norris person is. He looks like William. He runs fast. And he’s a dwarf. Once Jeffrey even sang a song about it.
Jack Norris runs around,
He saves the people all around
And he’s a dwarf!
He’s a dwarf, he’s a dwarf, he’s a dwaaaaaaaarf!
Nowadays, it’s become a family running gag. Whenever William is being especially, ah, intrepid — say, stuffing styrofoam peanuts in his mouth, or tipping a bowl of freshly folded clothes over on himself — we punch our fists in the air and say, “Jack Norris is on the case!”
So, we are moving to this very nice house in Salt Lake City next month. It used to belong to Brian’s maternal grandmother, but she moved out of it last fall and it has been sitting vacant since then. By a great stroke of kindness and generostiy, our family has gotten permission to live there. It’s close to the hospital, in a cute neighborhood, and has a big ol’ backyard with a fence. We are over the moon about how lovely it is. It’s a 1950s-style ranch house, very mid-century modern.
The question is, what shall we name it?
I’ve always wanted to have a name for my house. When I was ten, my parents took me on a trip to London, and while strolling up and down residential neighborhoods, we were charmed by how so many homes had signs declaring the name of the residence. Not the residents, but the house itself. “Time Cottage,” “Sunnyside,” “Primrose House,” etc.
In high school, nerd that I was, I read Lord of the Rings and was tickled by how tidy and whimsical the name “Rivendell” was as a house name. Then the movie came out, and now everybody knows the origin of the name. Oh, well.
We missed the boat on naming our house here in Pittsburgh. By the time we had finally finished procrastinating and chose a name (“Cardinal House,” after the family of said birds in the forest nearby) a whole year had gone by and it was going to look even more eccentric than usual to suddenly spring out with a name.
So, I say: name the new house now. Besides, if I name it before we leave, I’ll be able to put the name of our house on the change-of-address cards that I’m sending out. Like so:
Brooke Lastname
The Whatever House
123 Fake St.
Salt Lake City, UT 87654
So, my dear readers, what names would you suggest for our house? We’ve found it interesting to see what is considered acceptable as a house name. The suffixes -dell, -side, -field, -view, and -haven are frequently used. It’s also common to name the place after any prominent plants on the property, especially (for some reason) oak trees. Alas, we have no oaks. But we think there may be an elm.
Elmdell! Eh, no.
There are a number of stumps left from fruit trees. But as amusing as “The Old Stumping Ground” may be, it seems somehow lacking.
Enough of this silliness — do you have a suggestion?
Edit on 6/1 —
So, some of you requested a photo of the new house. Fine, fine — but to tell the truth, I don’t have an image of the house that I’ve taken myself (I know, I know). The only thing I can give you is the image you get when you look the house up on Google Maps. Here it is, although it’s somewhat obscured by trees:
On summer evenings (or, as is often the case, spring evenings) we like to walk the couple of blocks it takes to get to our neighborhood ice cream parlor, Bruster’s. Bruster’s is a local chain, and we like it better than the other (many, many) ice cream places in town, for these reasons:
1. Kids under four feet get free baby cones. If you ask, they will even make a “Purple Dinosaur” cone for the little ones. Note the googly candy eyes.
2. Banana Thursdays — on these days, if you bring a banana from home, you can get a banana split for half price. Brian and I like to share these. The splits are different from other places — they use strawberry, pineapple, and fudge toppings. The strawberry topping tastes sparkly, almost as if it’s carbonated. Maybe from having three hundred grams of sugar per ounce, perhaps?
Oh, and the kids can entertain themselves with the banana on the walk there. Here is the classic “banana phone.”
3. The “dirt sundaes” for kids cost less than a one-scoop cone. Jeffrey was good enough to share his dirt with William. Happy baby!
4. The kids’ favorite thing is this little Bruster’s truck. We have yet to actually put money in it to make it go. The kids don’t need money to go for a ride — the imagination makes for the most delicious trip of all.
I know one of the things I’ll really miss about Pennsylvania is all of the springtime flowers. People try to grow flowering trees and bushes in Utah, but there really isn’t enough water for them to really flourish. So, this spring I made a point of taking snapshots of all my favorite blossoms that I see while driving around town.
Here’s a gorgeous pair of azalea bushes. They look like one bush growing two shades of flowers:
Down the street from that bush is one of my favorite dogwood trees. Look how it towers — it reminds me of a Japanese painting:
Schenley Park also has some lovely dogwoods growing wild in the forest. They remind me of Virginia, where wild dogwood are more proliferous:
There are so many more that I wasn’t able to capture before they faded away (I’m kicking myself that I missed the big tulip tree in north Oakland!). Oh, well!
I think I had to double-check the spelling of this post’s title about four times. That’s how you spell “Duquesne,” right? (For those of you strangers to Pittsburgh, it’s pronounced “doo-KANE.”)
Would you believe that I lived here for nearly seven years before taking a trip up Mt. Washington on the incline? These would be a set of little red trollies that go up and down the mountainside on a set of tracks. Yeah, it’s one of those cute touristy things that Pittsburgh is famous for, but it always seemed a little too not-worth-the-time. It’s almost as easy to just drive up the hill (although it must be known that the inclines, old and touristy though they may be, are still used by some commuters as a way to get into the city and, as such, are maintained as public transporation).
But the charm, good weather, and lovely view really won me over. I’m sad I haven’t come here more often!
All aboard!
The view going up . . .
. . . and at the top. That’s Uncle Sven (aka Patrick) with Eleanor. She has a serious case of hero-worship going on with that guy.
Jeffrey was so enthused by the experience that when we arrived at home he insisted on making his own incline out of Legos. Brian jumped right on this idea, and here’s what they made. It really works — all you do is pull the string!
Last Monday Brian graduated from medical school, and “officially” recieved his Ph.D. hood, as well.
Hooraaaaayyyyy!
Seven years of graduate school, FINALLY OVER!
On to five more years of training!
The graduation ceremony went off with only a few hitches. My camera was pretty lousy at taking photos from the back of the Carnegie Music Hall, so this is the only one of the ceremony that turned out. He’s just recieved his medical hood, which is forest green. The deans were all clad in green as well, making them look like a bunch of leprechauns.
The only other hitch was that William threw up all over his grandfather ten minutes before the ceremony was about to start. I’m not talking about a spit-up — that I can handle — but a full-scale gastro-instestinal assault. Brian’s dad, who fathered six children, took it all in stride.
In fact, he was even good enough to take this picture of us in the lobby afterwards. Jeffrey opted to attend preschool that morning instead of coming to the ceremony (smart kid; it would have been painful for him), in case you’re wondering. Note the double-hood action on Brian’s shoulders!!
So, Brian is now Dr. Brian, M.D./Ph.D. A Doctor-Doctor, or as I call it, a Doctor Squared. Har har har. Nerd Jokes: can they be any funnier?
The medical school is big on the whole pomp-and-circumstance thing. (Except that they didn’t actually play “Pomp and Circumstance” during the graduation ceremony.) Graduation is a whole-weekend affair. It starts with a big barbeque on Saturday (ribs! ribs! ribs! And we got to take home a gigantic caramel-apple pie!) followed up by Scope & Scalpel in the evenings.
“Scope & Scalpel” is a comedy show put on by the graduating medical school class, making fun of the whole gruelling four-year training process. It’s been a Pitt tradition since the ’50s, and as far as I know, it’s something that is unique to this school. It’s quite the lavish affair, considering that it’s put together by fourth-year medical students, who are pretty busy people.
There are costumes, elaborate dance numbers, and a full orchestra. People collect the posters. And there’s lots of bathroom humor. The shows’ titles usually involve horrible puns — this year’s show was called “The Full Montefiore.” “Montefiore” is the name of one of the hospitals in town. Past shows have titles like “Back to the Suture,” “Thoracic Park,” “Apolyps 13,” and “Crouching Patient, Hidden Finger.”
To tell the truth, most of the jokes fell kinda flat, or were in-jokes that neither I nor Brian got (such as a love song written to Tony Danza). But there was one short film shown that pretty much stole the show. Here it is. . . um, I’ll just say that it’s probably rated PG-13. It’s full of all the thoughts medical students have during their third year of med school, but do not say out loud.
I laughed so hard I cried. Sobbed. It was that funny.
For those of you who do watch it, here’s a bit of vocabulary to help you along:
WPIC: Western Psychiatric hospital
Fecolalia: talking about feces all the time (we think? Brian’s already packed the medical dictionary, so we couldn’t look this up)
Neologism: nonsense word or word used incorrectly; sign of schizophrenia
Celiac: the first major artery that branches off the aorta after it passes through the diaphragm
Rounding: walking “round” the hospital, waking up patients and asking them about their stools. Repeat this an infinite amount of times, and you have an internal medicine rotation (aka “medicine rotation”).
Differential: list of possible diagnoses that you come up with after examining a patient
Retracting: tedious process of holding back skin/fat during surgery; usually the med student’s job
Magee: the women’s hospital in Pittsburgh; med students do their OB/GYN rotations there. This section of the video was filmed at the Magee ballpark in Greenfield.
“Next time I think I’ll put a cover on my shoe”: Childbirth is messy. Some OBs wear face shields.
Peds: pediatrics
H&P: history and physical
“Circle of Bruce” : referring to the Circle of Willis, the circle of arteries inside your brain.
One of our favorite places to eat in the area is the Udipi Café. This is a restaurant out in Monroeville that serves South Indian food. This is very different from the usual fare found in Indian restaurants. It’s all vegetarian, but what the cuisine is famous for is its unusual architectural features. The dosai are these thin rice crepes that are rolled into all sorts of crazy shapes, like a spiraling cone:
Jeffrey calls this “pyramid bread,” and loves dipping it in the coconut sauce. I prefer the cylindrical dosai that come stuffed with sauteéd potatoes, peas, onions, and lentils. Sooooo buttery good. The other dish we like to order are the uthapamm, which are these thick lentil pancakes cooked with tomatoes and peas. Mmmm.
We enjoy getting the appetizer platter too, which always includes these fluffy little steamed cakes made from rice flour. The name of them currently escapes me, but babies LOVE THEM. William just about hopped out of his high chair, waving his little fists for more.
For dessert, we always order a batura, which is this giant puffy fried bread. It’s essentially a ginormous scone. Here it is next to Wim-Wim’s head, to give a sense of scale:
Sometimes I sneak a small jar of honey in my purse to eat with the bread. It’s soooo good.
The best part of this place is how kid-friendly it is. The wait staff is incredibly patient and kind with my little ones, and like to play peek-a-boo with the babies. Almost all of the food is eaten with your hands, so I never have to nag my kids about using their silverware properly. There’s a tall fluffy stack of paper napkins on each table. And the restarurant is happy to split a mango smoothie between two lidded cups (a service that isn’t as easily found as you’d expect).
I’m going to miss South Indian food in Utah, but I’m sure we’ll find other cuisines that will work their ways into our hearts just as well. Already, I’m looking forward to a certain Salvadorean place on the west side of town, whose pupusas may juuuust make up for the loss of the batura. Just.
It’s getting painful to write about my favorite things around the city — we have only 2 1/2 weeks left before we move out to Utah!
The Carnegie Museum of Natural History — or, as we call it, the “Dinosaur Museum” — is probably my personal favorite around the city. (Hrumm, the children’s museum’s a close second. Maybe a tie.) I’ve been going there regularly since before the kids were born, and even more so afterwards.
Usually, the kids’ favorite thing to see is the dinosaur skeletons. However, last October we took Jeffrey to see the Hall of Ancient Egypt, and he’s been an Egypt nut ever since. Here he is in the reconstructed tomb:
Eleanor likes the fact that the Egyptians wore necklaces just like hers. Doesn’t that one on the bottom left look like it was made from macaroni?
I, on the other hand, am a big fan of the Polar World exhibit. What’s more awesome, the polar bear or the baby Wimmy? Tough call.
And let’s not forget the awesome snowhouse (aka igloo) exhibit. In case you’re wondering, the mannequins inside are of a mother and son skinning an arctic fox together. Cool.
Just beyond the model snowhouse is the oh-so-endlessly fascinating video presentation, “How to Build a Snowhouse.” The kids always insist on stopping to watch it. It’s interesting the first twelve times you see it. After that, the interest wanes.
The secret to snowhouse building? You should file down your foundation ring of snowblocks to create a spiral. According to the video, “you don’t have to be Inuit — but it helps!” Oh glory. I have seen that video SO. MANY. TIMES.
Beyond Polar World is the Hall of Native Americans. Or, according to my kids, “the place with this really cool boat.” The boat has something to do with the peoples of the pacific northwest, but I’ve never been able to fully figure out what. Something about fishing. Fishing is important.
Oh, and you get to pet a bison! Cute, fuzzy bison! I’ve explained to my kids that we will get to see living bison in Utah. They usually give me puzzled looks when I say this. Note Jeffrey demonstrating the appropriate “two-finger touch” that kids are encouraged to use:
No visit to the CMNH is complete without a quick lunch at Fossil Fuels, the downstairs cafeteria. The staff there is sooooo friendly, I love them. We always get a chocolate pudding to share for dessert — it comes with such lovely whipped cream on top!
Yesterday we went to visit the Carnegie Science Center, for what is probably the last time.
During a presentation about dinosaurs, an eight-year-old girl sat next to me and cooed over William, who was in my arms. After complimenting his chubbiness, eyes, and smile, she suddenly grew quiet and frowned, staring at Wimmy’s yead.
“Did you cut his hair?” she asked.
Okay, fine. The haircut is bad! I admit it! Why must I continue to fend off remarks like this?!? Because it’s poetic justice? Probably!
Other recent remarks from around the house:
Eleanor on dance: “Mama, want to see me do a ballet?” [She jumps up and down and flaps her arms.] “BALLET! BALLET! BALLET!”
Jeffrey has recently discovered that the suffix “-ism” is used to describe occupations. So, a person who shoots with a bow and arrow is an “arrowist.” After school on Friday he buried the apple seeds leftover from his lunch in the front yard — “I’m a very good buryist.”
Lately I’ve noticed how our classic film-a-thon is beginning to have an effect on the kids. Jeffrey occasionally opens the refrigerator door while spreading his arms wide and singing, “GOTTA DANCE!”
Actually, Eleanor refers to Singin’ in the Rain as “Gotta Dance.” “Mom, I have two favorite movies,” she told me a few days ago. “I like Meet Me in St. Louis because there’s a little girl just like me in it. And I like Gotta Dance because there’s a lady with long legs just like you in it.”
Whoa. You know who that lady is, right?
Have I mentioned how much I love my daughter? Really, really love her?
Meanwhile, Jeffrey has gotten involved in the Obama campaign. He found a bunch of Obama stickers somewhere and plastered them all over his Spider-Man lunchbox (Oy), and apparently gets in discussions about politics with a girl in his preschool class. “Mooooom,” he tearfully cried to me after school one day, “Caty says that a girl is going to be President! But I said it’s gonna be Barack Obama.” And who do Mom & Dad support?
I wasn’t going to write this up, but Michelle requested it. And I am a slave to requests, blog-wise.
Last weekend I went to the Midwest Pilgrimage, a non-church sponsored retreat for LDS women. Eh, I’ll just say it — it’s a Mormon feminist conference. And it rocks. Next year’s conference is May 15-16, and it’s going to be sponsored by the Pittsburgh folks. No word yet on whether it’s actually going to be in Pittsburgh, or in Illinois again. Stay tuned.
The keynote speaker this year was Chieko Okazaki. Her first talk was about friendship, and her second about centering your life on Christ by sharing your life with him as a companion. It wasn’t until I got home that I heard that Okazaki has just come out with a new book, What a Friend I Have in Jesus. I’m guessing that her talks rely heavily on the book’s content.
The comment she made that has stuck with me the most was in talking about her attitude towards Christ since her husband’s death sixteen years ago. She said, “I told Jesus, ‘You took my partner away, so now you have to be my partner in life.'” She spends her time in conversation with the Savior, knowing that He understands her experiences and can guide her through them as a partner and friend, not just a deity.
The other notable part of the conference was a presentation on Sacred Dance. That’s right, liturgical dance. There were many skeptical raised eyebrows when this was announced, because it does kind of Reek of Lameness, but to tell the truth, it was very well done, and rather beautiful. (And hey, why not? We have sacred art, music, and writing — why not dance?) The troupe is an Evangelical Christian group, but — amazingly — they were happy to share their art with LDS women. (After writing this, I spent time looking up Christian sacred dance ministries to see if I could find the group, but I wasn’t able to. However — you would be STUNNED to know how many Christian hip-hop troupes there are in the world. STUNNED.)
The best piece was a solo to “Lord of the Dance” a very old Christian text set to the tune of “Simple Gifts.” The dance was folk-inspired (the dancer was a woman in her mid-50s) and portrayed the life of Christ, and the need to celebrate his life (in this case, through dance). She used a simple white scarf as a prop during the dance — as a fisherman’s net, or winding burial cloths. Incredibly striking; I loved it.
Anything else about the conference I enjoyed? Well, I did get to spend a lot of time talking with very smart women, reading as much as I wanted, and sleeping in the afternoon. Saturday evening was spent talking with a friend at the side of a pond, watching swallows dip in and out of their reflections. I had no babies with me, and I didn’t have to cook a single meal. Refreshing? You bet.
Okazaki didn’t plug her book once the entire weekend (what a classy dame!) but I will:
Casa Camisas 