A terrestrial brook trout

Abstract

Spoiled. That is what my dad’s nickname for me is. Actually, it’s Pourri, French for rotted. My dad, Karl, is full of these verbal mannerisms, Karlisms, derived from who-knows-what obscure anecdotes and movie references. I was a daddy’s girl from the moment I was born. His third daughter, I imagine he was hoping for a boy. Instead he got me and, knowing there would be no chance for a son, made do with a female mini-me. My first name, Stefanie, is taken from his middle name, Steven. My middle name, Brook, qualifies his favorite fish in conjunction with my last name, Trout. My driver’s license elicits numerous comments and questions whenever strangers take note of my incredibly unique name. “Your parents sure must have a great sense of humor!” Often they would call someone else over to see the spectacle of my printed name. At this point I force a polite chuckle while inwardly groaning. Even more frequently I get, “Is your dad a fisherman?”