One Sign

She watched the last sunset of the year as the sun dove into the horizon behind the Pacific Ocean.  The moment felt overwhelmingly magnificent; the sun, the ocean, the hills, the chill in the air, the presence of family; she felt like praying.  There was only one thought in her heart and she prayed on it.  Not necessarily feeling heard she then asked for a sign.

The ball of sun had faded completely.  How fast the sun sets when it is watched at dusk!  How quickly this last day faded away, for ever, gone and done with!

It was still light and the ocean boasted underneath its mesmerizing shimmers.  She scanned the ocean; it looked calm, all calm.  Suddenly there appeared a spout of water and then a whale tail surfaced majestically.  This was just too magical of a sign; this was like fairytales.  She found herself in prostration, head on the earth in surrender to the Grace of God.

Unintended Resolution

My whole body is aching ouch!  Especially my hamstrings and triceps.  I just started a new exercise routine at a local Dailey Method.  Just registered last night when the admin lady claimed that January was the craziest time with all the new year's resolutions!!  I must say though that the lady didn't appear as if she was referring to me.  I didn't look like a resolution person it seems.

My first session proved to be fantastic.  First of all I biked to my class and felt very pleased with myself; it hardly was 40 degrees early in the morning.  The gym itself was rather bright and the music was upbeat even though it hardly had any cardio routine. But oh did it make your muscles work!  They claim that they make you leaner and taller through yoga and Pilates and Barre exercises.  I don't know about the "leaner" claim but I already feel I can sit up taller and walk upright again!

Most of all I had missed the gym environment and simply felt happy to be there.  The bodily challenges.  The sweat of labor.  The discovery of new muscles to tone.  I could do most of the challenging ones!  While trying to follow the routines I was occasionally looking at my face in the mirror that covered the wall on one side and after a long while liked what I saw.  My face had gotten rather pale as all the blood had concentrated on my cheeks.  I liked the determination beneath shivering muscles.

Right after I got home we headed south to San Luis Obispo.  I like it here. Not sure exactly why.  First time I came here I was pregnant with A; we were visiting from Toronto.  I had a day and a half all by myself to explore while M was attending interviews. I knew that for me it was not a place to live but I liked it otherwise.  Tonight I found the downtown area modernized a bit and revived. Nine years is long enough for a town face lift! I wonder where the kids who were attending Cal Poly back then are now.  Married. Kids. Working.  Then I wonder where the older grads are.  They all came and left; the school is still here and so is SLO.  Life must go on.

"That's How I got to Memphis"

Adorable scenes from the Newsroom - spoiler watch out!

http://youtu.be/kp04NqmwWn4

"If you love somebody enough you'll follow wherever they go

That's how I got to Memphis, that's how I got to Memphis

If you love somebody enough you'll go where your heart wants to go

That's how I got to Memphis, that's how I got to Memphis

I know if you'd seen her you'd tell me 'cause you are my friend

I've got to find her and find out the trouble she's in

If you tell me that she's not here I'll follow the trail of her tears

That's how I got to Memphis, that's how I got to Memphis

She would get mad and she used to say

That she'd come back to Memphis someday

That's how I got to Memphis, that's how I got to Memphis

I haven't eaten a bite or slept for three days and nights

That's how I got to Memphis, that's how I got to Memphis

I've got to find her and tell her that I love her so

I'll never rest 'til I find out why she had to go

Thank you for your precious time, forgive me if I start to cry and

That's how I got to Memphis, that's how I got to Memphis

That's how I got to Memphis, that's how I got to Memphis

That's how I got to Memphis, that's how I got to Memphis

That's how I got to Memphis"

When in Love

He was calculating the time needed to get there.  The road ahead was congested; he counseled his app considering alternative routes.  He started simultaneously comparing the distances, optimizing the routes, considering the path that would be the shortest and fastest; in case they didn't match, he chose the shortest path.  As far as he was concerned, there always was a chance that the congestion would open up and travel would get faster.

The music in the car under the kids noises from the backseats and the direction-lady from the map app was noise to him even though she said it was a favorite.

They reluctantly stopped at a coffee shop which he commented as too neglected; she had recommended it.  They all got something to drink all the while watching over kids unable to relax.  The kids were too tired of sitting still and it was madness to get to the car and head to the traffic.  Yet it always seemed a necessity to rush home after a full day of outdoor fun.  They hushed the kids in the back and exchanged words in the form of question and answer some; otherwise they drove in silence, deep in thoughts, separately.

When they got home he got busy with putting things away and she with feeding and putting the kids to bed.  He put on his earbuds listening to his music. He wanted to be toned out. He needed to zone away.  He had missed his solitude.

...

He glanced at her briefly.  She was looking out the window at the sunset over the ocean.  He smiled triumphantly.  He knew how much she loved that road and marveled at her treasured moments. Expecting the congested roads ahead, he recommended stopping at a coffee shop by the shore.  She lightened up at the suggestion.  They turned west away from their destination and found a local café.

The kids hurried in, feeling liberated from the harnessed car seats and ordered light sandwiches.  The two of them just ordered drinks.  He surprised her by ordering a hazelnut latte; responding to her questioning smile with a mischievous wink.

After the kids ate their light dinner they all headed to the shore.  It was getting really cold as the oceanic winds were taking charge at early moments of the evening.  They were grateful for the warmth of their drinks in their hands.  He held her close watching guard on the kids who seemed oblivious to the cold.  They walked on the sandy beach in silence while the kids were vailing away exhausting the last drops of energy.  She was praying in her heart; loved the silence of the world around the sunset; to her it was a moment of closeness to God.  He knew and respected it.

They sat on a boulder at last holding the kids on their laps.  They all chatted away planning for the upcoming trip even though the kids changed subjects a zillion times. Finally, when they knew the frenzy of early evening commute was over and the kids were tired enough to enjoy the stillness of a car ride, they started heading home.  Soon after, the kids zoned out.  They drove home, content, chatting about many different topics quietly, listening to The Music of The Night.

"Dance Me to The End of Love"

A beautiful movie, Scent of Woman; then below is the link to a clip from it.  Framed to the song of "dance me to the end of love".

Watched Leonard Cohen singing the song a few years ago.  We were the youngest, perhaps, in the Oakland hall.  Yet I find everything about this song young, everlastingly young, and ageless.

Published on Dec 31, 2013

Tango Scene ~ Al Pacino ~ Scent of a Woman ~ Movie CLIP (1992)

Leonard Cohen ~ Dance Me To The End Of Love

Lyrics:

Dance me to your beauty with a burning violin

Dance me through the panic 'til I'm gathered safely in

Lift me like an olive branch and be my homeward dove

Dance me to the end of love

Dance me to the end of love

Oh let me see your beauty when the witnesses are gone

Let me feel you moving like they do in Babylon

Show me slowly what I only know the limits of

Dance me to the end of love

Dance me to the end of love

Dance me to the wedding now, dance me on and on

Dance me very tenderly and dance me very long

We're both of us beneath our love, we're both of us above

Dance me to the end of love

Dance me to the end of love

Dance me to the children who are asking to be born

Dance me through the curtains that our kisses have outworn

Raise a tent of shelter now, though every thread is torn

Dance me to the end of love

Dance me to your beauty with a burning violin

Dance me through the panic till I'm gathered safely in

Touch me with your naked hand or touch me with your glove

Dance me to the end of love

Dance me to the end of love

Dance me to the end of love

A Punch in the Guts

Adrienne Rich:

Power

"Living in the earth-depositis of our history

Today a backhoe divulged out of a crumbling flank of earth
one bottle amber perfect a hundred-year-old
cure for fever or melancholy a tonic
for living on this earth in the winters of this climate

Today I was reading about Marie Curie:
she must have known she suffered from radiation sickness
her body bombarded for years by the element
she had purified
It seems she denied to the end
the source of the cataracts on her eyes
the cracked and suppurating skin of her finger-ends
till she could no longer hold a test-tube or a pencil

She died a famous woman denying
her wounds
denying
her wounds came from the same source as her power"

A Mommy Confession

It is in the middle of the night and I miss my kids so badly I want to wake them up from their sweet dreams and hug them and kiss them and tell them I love them infinity and beyond beyond.  I won't. But I want to.

It happens to me every night; a mommy's remorse.  It is after they are both asleep and the house is hushed under the untidiness that was tried to be tidied a zillion times through out the day.  It is when M and I are laying on the couch rightfully exhausted claiming the evening hour to ourselves, to watch a grown up's movie, to discuss some grown up matters, even argue some perhaps on some serious grown up subjects.  It is then when I remember how, while I was grating the gingers for dinner, my little m was clinging to my leg wanting to be held but I kept on grating.  It is then when I remember A started telling me one of his silly stories about the stupid mine crafter game he fancies so and I just said "aha" as if I were listening and now I wished I did listen. It is then when I promise myself that tomorrow I would hold m on any demand and I would listen to A attentively at all times.  It is then when I remember that I said the same thing to myself the night before and today was the tomorrow of last night and tonight I am promising a better tomorrow.  Tomorrow I will be a different person, God willing, enshala.

Holidays Delayed Dreaming

It is impossible for holidays to delay. Yet the joy and cheers lag when you fall sick in bed.  I feel awful not because my body is weak and sick but because I can't celebrate the joys of the time with family and friends :(. I have to cancel a dinner party I was going to host tomorrow night.  But it's alright. Hopefully another time.

I wish we could take a road trip.  May be down to LA and visit M's uncle. Just relax a couple days. May be meet friends in Irvine one day and head back.  Wish we could go to San Diego and meet up with dear ones there but that's too far fetch a plan.

I wish we could go to watch a movie. Now this is when you wish your kids were closer in age. I'm reading interesting reviews of Wild and Into the Woods. Wish to watch them both.  I wonder if it is an American tradition to go to the movies on Christmas Day because yesterday the only open businesses in town were the movie theaters.

http://www.latimes.com/entertainment/movies/moviesnow/la-et-mn-into-the-woods-movie-reviews-critics-20141223-story.html

The Road

They appear hot; any cup that is steaming appears hot as if it contains a boiling drink.  However, in freezing cold even the cold drinks evaporate!  A ludicrous finding when you sip from a steaming cup cautiously and realize the drink inside was rather cold.

That's the story of life sometimes. The appearance of a goal might invite you to dare, to take a chance, to risk. The excitement heightens, your body takes guard in fight or flight.  You brace up. Then take the risk, submerge, dive in; to find the result of experience just bland, rather disappointing.

Even so, I won't change the steaming cup of drink in the cold despite the chance that the drink has already lost warmth.

I won't change the excitement of taking risk for possible realization of a bland result.

I aim for the best yet when in doubt, I would take joy on the road rather than the destination.

Vacation Surprises

Tony Robbins in one of his talks asked the audience "who likes surprises say 'I'".  Half the people said "I". He said "bull sh*t you just like the surprises you like otherwise you call them 'problems'".

This is true about life but particularly true about vacations, double true about winter vacations, and triple true about winter vacation with kids.

It took us 6 hours to get to South Lake Tahoe last night despite leaving the house just before 2pm.  I woke up in the middle of the night with a headache and got up in the morning stuffed and in pain.  A couple Tylenol Colds did the trick.  Then we learned that the gondola to the ski lines were shut down due to sever winds.  So there went the ski plans.

We started strolling the Heavenly shopping area and had a coffee which was the worst coffee at Nestle Toll House coffee shop when it started to hail. As we stepped outside the coffee shop a sales lady asked us if we had any fun activities planned.  I told her my only wish would be to get rid of the kids for a couple hours and just sit in a cafe with my husband and have one cup of tea.  As simple as that and as far fetch as eternity at this time.  We all laughed at the joke and headed back to the hotel thinking about swimming under the glass roofed pool watching the snow flakes fall dreaming about life.

Here is to a surprise filled vacation!

Yalda etc

May the longest night of the year be light and bright in your homes and warm with love in your hearts!

Whoever you are.

Whatever you believe in.

Wherever you live.

May there be peace, light, and love!

سلام

انشالا بلندترين شب سال براتون پر از نور و صفا باشه!

هر كى هستيد؛ به هر دين و آيينى كه هستيد يا نيستيد؛ هر جايى كه هستيد.

!با آرزوى مهر و آرامش و نور

Mountain of Dreams

Beyond the oceans there must be a mountain

Beyond that mountain there must be a place

A place where there lives a man

A man who caresses love

The love evident in his gentle gaze on your face

The gaze that invites you to dreamy silence

The silence that won't bear your lonely sobs

A man who puts your sorrowful head on his shoulder

The shoulder that hushes you back to sleep

A sleep that is calm in his company

A company that is as reliable as the rocks in the mountains

A man whose presence is vast like the blue oceans

Beyond the oceans there must be a mountain!

پشت اقيانوسها كوهى بايد باشد

ميان آن كوه شهرى

ميان آن شهر مردى

مردى بايد باشد

مردى كه دستانش عشق را لمس ميكند

عشقى كه در نگاهش موج ميزند

وقتى به نرمى به تو خيره ميشود

نگاه نازكى كه تو را به روياى سكوت دعوت ميكند

سكوتى كه هق هق بى صدايت را تاب نياورد

مردى كه سرغصه ناكت را به روى شانه هاى ستبرخويش ميگذارد

و با لالاييش تو را آرام آرام به خواب دعوت ميكند

خوابى كه در حضور مرد آرامش است

حضور ابريشمينى كه چون صخره هاى كوه استوار است

مردى كه بودنش بيكران است

بيكران چنان اقيانوسهاى آبى

!پشت اقيانوسهاى آبى كوهى بايد باشد

مسافر نيمه شب...

Broken Hearted

She closed her eyes, resisting the urge to squeeze  her eyelids lest the lump in her throat would reveal her secret in tears.  She kept her eyes shut for a few seconds laying her head on the headrest; she breathed in deeply and sighed.  She looked out the window.  The plane was still on the ground. She swallowed hard which hurt pressing on the lump in her throat.  The lump was in her throat yet it hurt in her heart.  She loved him so.

Love.

Love.

Love.

It is a confusing subject; love is.

He was different to her but was it love?

She missed talking to him when he wasn't around but was it love?

She desired him when she was afraid, when she felt happy, when she was unsure of herself, when she was thoughtful, when she was thoughtless. But was it love?

He said he loved her once.  She looked at him with a smirk but his gaze was serious down on her face.

He repeated the phrase later.  He promised. For ever.

She realized that they grew more comfortable as time passed.  They laughed more.  They talked more.  They disclosed more.

She wondered if it had to do anything with love.  That they shared so much about their thoughts and their fears and their dreams and their plans and their past and their future.  She recognized she wasn't like that with anyone else.  But was it love?

Then one day, one very ordinary day, he brought out his huge upright hiking backpack and put it in the bedroom.  He had laid out all his hiking gears on the bed.  T Shirts. Orange whistle. Fleece socks. Flashlight. Sleeping bag. Water purifier. Headlamp. His one-person tent. First aid kit. His lip balm. A dry bag full of food supply enough for a few weeks. He announced that he was set out for a hiking trip by the Pacific Ocean.  That he was hitching a ride to the trail in the morning. That he didn't know when he would be back.  He said that all with a smile.

The next morning he was gone.

The love word.

The promise.

The "for ever".

She packed her stuff in a carry on in an afternoon a few days after.  She felt she was moving very slowly.  She was in a haze ever since that smile.

She bought a ticket online for the next morning.

She looked outside the window again.  They were ascending.  She laid her body on her seat.  Closed her eyes and wished they were just continuing to ascend "for ever".

Neglected Kids

I vowed to not use my smart phone for surfing while in accompany of my kids!

Now, M joon, this doesn't mean I won't use it at all!  It means I won't surf the web or check FaceBook or check non urgent emails.

I am thankful to the parents who made the decision firm for me.

Yesterday I saw a mom walking in the sidewalk with her son.  The son, may be 3 years young, was walking on the grassed patch, throwing his arms in the air, smiling. The mom was walking a few feet behind, on the sidewalk, her head in her cellphone.

I saw a dad this morning in the airport, sitting by the wall.  His toddler in front of him on the floor on all fours. The dad was holding on to the back of the son's shirt, harnessing his movement with one hand and holding his cellphone with his other hand. After a few second he started saying something in Spanish, something unpleasant may be, asking the son to stay still perhaps.

I am grateful to these parents.  I thank them for showing me how it must look being on your smart phone while the kids are around, especially when you are not at work duty.

When we walk to park I have my cellphone under the stroller. Unless I'm on the phone with my earbuds in, I won't use my cellphone when in their company.  When I get home I put my cell on the kitchen island and leave it be for a few hours unless I get a phone call.

On a side note, I miss my kids already.  I am headed to Seattle for a meeting and will be back tonight.  Grateful that it is an in and out flight.  I kissed A goodbye before I left home but m is too sensitive to movement and sound so I didn't bother her.  Just blew her a kiss from the door.

Counting the minutes to go back home tonight. Home. Enshala.

Surviving Suffocation

When I feel motion sickness in an under water tunnel with no light in sight my mind doesn't cooperate with me.  I feel restless.  I feel I cannot breathe.  I feel my stomach is too big for my body pressing on my lungs.  I feel my air ducts are too narrow.  I hear my laborious breaths.  I urge to open the bottoms of my jacket, to take off my scarf, to puke to open up the tightened air ducts.  I consider pulling down the car window but I wonder if there is less oxygen outside, in a long tight tunnel, a few hundred feet under water.

Then I think about what my heart pleases. I mentally escape the scene.  I imagine an ocean, the sun, the breeze.  I imagine my love, his hand on my shoulders, smiling down at me.

I don't pray.  It is too early to pray.  I cannot give in.

Just as I am forgetting about lack of oxygen and the sound of my breaths and the tightness in my air ducts I see the light in the end of the tunnel.

I made it through! I thank God.

It is suffocating to imagine how water boarding must feel.

It is suffocating to imagine how those mothers must feel when they learned their 15 year old would never come back home from school let alone learning that he was shut to death.

It is suffocatibg to imagine how a detainee was frozen to death, chained on concrete floor, bare.

It is suffocating to imagine how it feels being held hostage in a coffee shop and witnessing the murder of human kind in front of your eyes.

I close my eyes.  I try to imagine the ocean, the sun, the breeze, the loved ones.

It is too late for imaginations.

I pray...

The Doctor Author

At first he looked too serious, somewhat shielded yet completely attentive.

I got introduced to him during this past seminar in NYC.  He is a Major, deployed twice to Afghanistan, is Italian, is a robotic surgeon, and is writing a book.

His stories were facinating!  Storied about his father who advised him to always date his wife and to always take care of people who mattered in his life.  Stories of his first days at the Base and his first surgery after his first combat.  Stories of them losing another surgeon.  Storied of growing up poor and dignified.  How his father taught them scienctific intelligence and his mother emotional intelligence.

He said he was writing a book and as facinating as his stories were I believe he should.  He said he was transcribing his stories and would recruit one to write it for him.  Reminded me of Molana; in a totally different time and land and writing about a vastly different subject in a somewhat similar fashion!

We talked about books like Kite Runner and A Thousand Splendid Suns and Homefront. We talked about the difference between Iranians and Persians.  We talked about our kids. And surely we talked about robotic surgery.

I didn't dare telling him I wrote too in a blog.  That my dream was to write a book too.

Talking to him was fascinating too because he exuded this too serious too shielded demeanor at first and oh very seriously he talked about many different things when we started chatting actually.  Indeed a uniquely intriguing experience.  Looking forward to his published book!

Christmas Culture

Living in a somewhat Christian country exposes us to new traditions and different cultures.  Christmas is the most prominent of them all.  It is indeed holly, beautiful, and exciting to me.

This year M, A, and I watched the Corked performance by Smuin Ballet.  Perhaps and most likely we were the only three Persians in the theatre.  Most people are in red and green and black costumes; many with their families from grandparents to grandkids.

http://smuinballet.org/uncorked/

There were two traditional Jewish performances among the Christmas ballets.  Perhaps there is room for a Yalda performance, say Persian Dance among it all too.  Makes me wonder, how cultures evolve, how traditions are made.  How annonimities give way to unity and how it has never been the same and never will be.  I am sure there are persian artists keeping the art alive.  God bless them and looking forward to the day we all dance and sing together.

Merry Christmas!

Going Back to California

Just met an old colleague as I was boarding the plane and she was taking the same flight back to California.  She looked the same; sounded happier; talked as fast as she always did.  She had gotten a recent promotion she told me, to a Vice President position.  I asked her to describe the three main criteria she thought gave her the position.  She said "same as it would for anybody: hard work and intelligence".  I brushed off the response easily "we both know many hard working intelligent people who not only didn't grow but got nixed".  She then continued in rushed words that it was the VP of HR who recognized her talent, who grew, and grew her with him.

That, my dear reader, is the true reason for growth:  a great person who can identify greatness in people and help them grow.

I am happy for her.  I am going to tell her this, enshala, when we land in San Francisco, enshala.

I am reading a book called Wild by Cheryl Strayed. It's a non fiction, story of the author's 3 month long hike on the Pacific Crest Trail by the Pacific Ocean.  So far it has been engaging.  Simple. Honest. Melancholic.  She claimed that Superior Lake was the largest lake in the world.  I know she is wrong just not sure if she is trying to knowingly exaggerate or unknowingly make a false note.  I must figure this out.  The largest lake in the world is in fact Caspean Sea; has gotten the name "see" to emphasize its largeness.

I'm snacking not too healthily on this trip.

Counting the moments to get home and have a carrot ha ha... Oh I miss my family dearly!

Boyhood (2014)

Richard Linklater did it again; making me adore his creation of a movie.  I am not sure what I am adoring exactly.  A young woman wanting to figure her life out.  A mother loving and caring for her kids.  A boy always kind and concerned about his mom.  A boy trying to figure it out.  A man wanting to be with his family but not knowing how.  A woman wanting more of her life.

The growing characters played by the same growing actors and actresses made it so real.

Where will I be when A goes to college enshala? What will I do?  How will I feel?

God knows. God knows it all.

I am now. Constantly in the moment.

Dreams and Goals

The two guys on either side of me must be in their late thirties.  The guy by the window talked to me a few words; excuse me and pardon me and thanks kind of word. I hardly glanced at the guy by my right sitting by the isle.  I can see from the corner of my eyes that he is asleep with his mouth open he he.

And I'm sitting in the middle seat. Yes after a long long while I'm seated in the middle seat because I bought the tickets of this popular route just a week ago. At least I have an economy plus seat and non-smelly guys on each side.  Then I realized that I'm not a young lady in between two giants.  We might all be very well of similar age!  Working professionals. Children of older parents but not too old; The guy on my left was talking to his dad just before departure.  I don't see any ring on either of them which sometimes implies no true meaning.

We are flying into a storm.  Seatbelt lights are still on after almost 50 minutes into our route.  I'm listening to my music to not think about the turbulence.  I turned the volume higher when the shakes became more fierce.  It's "my brown eyed girl" song now, Van Morrison.  I even like older songs sometimes!  I am not young anymore.  I'm not old yet.

My friend who is six months older than me counseled me once to follow a dream "while you are still young"!  While still young.  May be I am young.  But not really young.  I know I'm not really young because I have grown conscious.  Not as optimistic anymore.

I don't feel real young now because I have dreams. Dreams are not goals.  Up until now I had goals only.  Now I have some goals but some dreams too.

I dream to publish a book one day.

Boots and Tights

The lady in the mirror looks quite stylish to me.  I like her boots and her geggings tights complete with a loose long sleeve top.  And I think to myself, what can be wrong with this outfit?  Cause I was reading earlier that in that land one shan't wear boots or else will be arrested. I wonder why.

My sense of style in boots stemms in my childhood, in that puzzle my parents gifted me on an occasion. It was the puzzle of a girl wearing aboriginal's clothing complete with boots.  Beautiful her style was and rough I must say.  It was this seemingly contrast drawing me even more to her and her style.

My first memory of my boots is of a pair of brown ankle boots with Pinocchio buckles.  I know I had rainboots before that because I've seen their pictures but don't remember them per ce.

The boots of the lady in the mirror are brownish grey with hardly any heels.  They wrap around the ankles nicely, not too tight, not too loose.  The zippers are on the inner side. Simple brown zippers.  There are three bands on the tip of the foot.  In my opinion they are nice, look comfy, yet somewhat rough perhpas hip even. But in one word they are simple.

And I think to myself. What's the crime in her style deserving an arrest? 

Girly Girl

Her girly gestures crack me up sometimes.  As a mom, I love to make my baby girl laugh, just flat laugh.  As a mom, I like my baby girl to be tough and strong in the face of this sometimes cruel life.  As a mom, I want my baby girl to feel like a princess all the time and treat herself like one.  As a mom, I like my girl to exude independence yet remain humble and kind.  As a mom, I want my girl to know when to unleash the charm and otherwise remain distant and untouchable.

Now since she is born I am carrying diaper bags in form of a backpack while she is with me.

Then today, in a kids shop, I gave her a shoulder handbag and he carried it ah like a girl!  She "knew" how to hold it and how to carry herself as a girl with a shoulder handbag.  Ah she cracks me up sometimes! Wish I had a picture of the moment!!

Baby Girl and Lion

It is novel to see the picture of a lion on a baby girl's socks.

I have clear images of some of my girlhood cloths.  One was a yellow shirt with the shape of a girl whose face was hidden under her hat over a bent head and her hair, blond woven hair made of wool cloth, was a separate piece I could touch and wrap around my finger.

I remember a machine woven dirty-pink shirt with the shape of a dark pink cat on it.  I was around 6 or 7 years young and I liked that cat.

I grew up in a family were the harsh distinctions between boys and girls were absent.  So the notion of cat for girls and trains for boys was a bit foreign to me when strolling some baby shops in Notth America.

I try to remain exclusive about colors and patterns for my kids especially in their clothing with the hope that they will think broad and above societal rigid "norms".

Happy I was when I spot a lion shape on a girly pair of socks for my little angel.  The lion, the male lion, is complete with a bow and the scalloped socks are feminine yet novel and inclusive. 

Shokran!

He asked "are you Persian?"

I was pleasantly surprised! He was at a booth at the Medical Device exhibition I was visiting.  It was earlier in the day and the booths were clean with some chatty booth managers.  He was displaying in his booth what got me intrigued so I paused on my walk and he invited me over.  Then he asked if I were Persian and I affirmed.  I asked how he could guess and he replied "I'm wordly". We talked about their products and how they have projects in Singapore and China and Middle East.  I thought he must have been to enough places and seen many different people and talked to a variety of nationalities to be able to tell I was from Middle East and moreover right from Iran.  When I was to depart he saw me off by "shokran!". There was the worldly man! Thanking a Persian in Arabic!  I walked away correcting him in passing: "merci! Sepaas!"

Another Day Like None

Today is a day like none.

It is raining.  The autumn kind of rain when it is relatively warm. The trees are colorful oh so colorful its a pleasure and a blessing to watch and walk and drive and watch some more.

I took the day off and scheduled it my way.

My sunny son gave me an envelop this morning that was addressed to me on "Love Ave" containing a painting with birthday wishes on it!  Such an adorable gesture that made my day.

I felt like orange so I wore the orange mustard hand made jacket my mom gifted me and the orange clutch she had gifted me the year before and headed out.

I cut my hair today; not too short but different and styled it curly just the opposite to my natural hair. I know it lasts only a few hours but I'm enjoying the locks.

Then I met a dear dear friend for lunch after a long long while. It was amazing being with her. Lovely!

Honored and happy I feel with all the texts and calls and Viber messages and timeline notes from my dearest friends and family and parents and siblings and hubby.  I feel blessed!!

Now I am sitting in a coffee shop typing away and writing my wishes for my year ahead.  I must be careful what I wish for cause it's proven to me over and over that He is listening!!

Blessed and love wishes to all!

Thank you!!

Professional Stories

Everybody likes stories.

Everyone has stories to tell.

It is the matter of how one tells his story and to whom that would make or break an engaged conversation.

I got to tell a story today to an engaged audience.  I met a guy who had come for an interview.  However, he was at the wrong building. I offered to walk him to the right building when I learned that he had a master's degree in mechanical engineering.  He very disappointedly noted that because he couldn't find an engineering job he was teaching math and physics at a high school.

Listening to his story, I immediately offered him a different version of the same story.  I recommended that may be he was meaning to say that he was dedicated to advancement of science and physics in an applied manner and due to his engineering background he decided to teach physics and math to high school kids in a practical manner.  However, for the right engineering job he was willing to pursue his passions as a mechanical engineer.

When I was done narrating his story from a different angle he was looking up at me with widened bright eyes.  He smiled slightly and thanked me so sincerely it made my day.  But then there came the turn down "would you read my resume?"

Thankfully, we were at the building he was supposed to be at by then.  I wished him luck and started walking back to my building feeling blessed with the unexpected opportunity to turn a disappointing story to a positive one.