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Time for Changes

November 23, 2009 by petitemahsa

This is a good Sunday edition list.  I have been contemplating some changes I need to make to my life to make living more pleasant.  Some of them include:

  • Waking up before 10am on weekends because it makes me very grumpy on Monday.  I blame this on the dog, who cannot sleep in and must be let out to pee. I know people who have children are making fun of me because they haven’t slept since the inception of their child, but I have the luxury of sleeping in.  And I feel I should take advantage of it.
  • Heat — our bill has increased 766% in the past month.  The good news is that our ancient looking radiators are working well.  That bad news is that I got too comfortable to a warm house, and now I am going to have to wear a sweatshirt inside.
  • Worktime lunches.  My office is downtown, but located on a steep, steep hill, and it is a 10 minute walk downhill to all of the restaurants.  I know this sounds lame, but that is why 95% of my office brings their lunch everyday.  I am trying to do this, but everyday at lunch time, I dread eating my meal.  I hate what I brought, whether it is leftovers or a sandwich.  Must plan more exciting lunches, and a better variety.
  • Figuring out the shoe/clothing situation.  People in Montreal keep extra pairs of shoes in their offices.  One of my co-workers even has a few different suits in his office.  This is so you can wear a different pair of shoes TO work, and then change into more formal ones AT work.  Or, if you ride your bike, change into your suit at work.  I am struggling to figure this out — not sure how I feel about keeping my shoes in the office.  What if I need them over the weekend?  Plus, my pants are different lengths.  This is really perplexing for me.
  • Setting up skype dates.  Lisa — are you there?  Can we arrange to be on skype at the same time?  Please?

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And another one

November 22, 2009 by petitemahsa

What?  Two posts in one day?  I must be crazy!!  Or bored on a Saturday night.

Couldn’t help but share these pictures from Rusby in the dog park today.

Come and get me blondie!

Coyote on the loose!

Am gonna fly right over you!

Doggie networking = awkward human moment

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Negotiations with Bibi

November 22, 2009 by petitemahsa

The age old debate to get my grandmother to come visit me.

Bibi:  Bring your husband here, I want to see him.

Me:  You come here if you want to see him.

Bibi:  I can’t see, you know my eyesight is horrible.  You should come here.

Me:  I promise I will come if you come back with me.

Bibi:  I will only come if you have a child.

Me:  I will only have a child if you come here to take care of it.

Bibi:  ME?!  How can I take care of it?  I can’t see.

Me:  I will leave the baby with you, and you can hold it in your arms.  You don’t need to see for that, do you?

Bibi:  That is good. I can hold that baby and sing it lullabies and prayers.  But who will change its diapers?

Me: I don’t know.  Pedram maybe?  We can always get someone to help us out.

Bibi:  That is good, maybe you guys can get me my own little apartment, and I will hold your baby and sing it lullabies all day long.  I can do that.

Me:  So come already!  I miss you!

Bibi:  First have the baby, and then I’ll come.

Me:  But you told me that if I got married you’d come, and you didn’t!  I only got married so I could see you and now I have to ride a bicycle everywhere.

Bibi:  Okay, okay.  Guess I better practice my singing

(and then she sings me a lullaby in Farsi — it is adorable)

My grandmother is undergoing operations on both her eyes, hopefully it will help her see better.  Please keep her in your thoughts and prayers for an easy recovery so she can come visit and take care of my unborn baby.

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I have no shame

November 21, 2009 by petitemahsa

I have no shame about how I looked from 1988-1994, even though I definitely should.  It was not the prettiest time in my life, and for my early childhood, my mom cut my hair like a boy and then confused me and everyone around me by making wear frilly dresses.  But then as I grew older, she allowed me to dress myself, and it was a horrible mess.  And puberty was not forgiving on me, especially with glasses and braces and frizzy frizzy hair.

I will show you the pictures.  I have no shame.  It was not a pretty time.

I am seven years older than my brother, and he quickly replaced me as the baby in the family, and perhaps not coincidentally, that is when it all went downhill for my looks.  We all spoiled him to death, but his cuteness left when he grew into his own awkward stage, and then the only person who spoiled him was our mother, who LITERALLY SUFFOCATES HIM with affection (on a daily basis).  He can get away with anything, and whenever he does anything normal, like finish a home cooked meal, we have to fan my mother to prevent her from fainting from love.  I joke you not.

It is the youngest boy syndrome.  I know it well, I am married to another baby of the family.  Don’t even get me started.

Here he is, when he was a chubby chunk of love and we were living in Florida.  I still remember well the shirt I am wearing.  I loved it.

HELLO buck teeth.  I think this was the time when I lost two the teeth on either side of my two front teeth, and when I smiled I would stick those teeth out front.  Why?  Why?

I am pretty sure my mom cut my bangs here.  This is before I cut my own bangs.  That was the really really bad stage.

Anyways, isn’t Sina just adorable there?  Look at those cheeks!!  When I asked Sina tonight about what I should blog about, he mentioned Thanksgivings of years past.  The last two I was abroad, and the years before that were a blur.  But I do remember when my mom would cook turkey for thanksgiving, as well as some persian food along side it.  The turkey was for Nava, who really embraces Thanksgiving food.  The persian food was for me (and probably my mom), cause I just can’t get into turkey, or cornbread or cranberry sauce.  And I am pretty sure there was a time when she also had a pizza on hand, for Sina, because he is her baby, and he gets to eat whatever he wants, whenever he wants.  Cause he is the littlest brother, the baby, and a spoiled brat.

But I love him.  Despite our age difference, Sina and I have always gotten along really well, and when mom makes Sina delicious food, he would share with me.  That cemented the relationship.

When I asked Nava, the older sister, what I should write about, she immediately turned it about herself.  I think that is the older sibling characteristic.  That, and she is very smart and incredibly stubborn.  The only other child I have heard of being more stubborn than Nava is…again Pedram.  Is this why I am attracted to him?

Nava is currently in Brazil for medical research, and wanted me to write about Jessica Alba and her movie, “Honey”.  I guess that is what is showing in Puerto Allegre at this time.  Aside from that, she is doing some cool research, and apparently buying some great clothes.

Nava and I are two years apart, and we are incredibly close, with the occasional hot/cold moments.  Except they are more like arctic freeze/blazing fire.

Drama, it makes sisterhood so much better.  But I love her too.  Sometimes you need a little bit of drama, especially when you are very close.  How close?  Lets just say we went through our awkward phase together.  That stuff will bond you closer than superglue.

I told you. I have no shame.

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My coffee story

November 20, 2009 by petitemahsa

Have I ever told you my coffee story?

Hmmm…maybe I should start with my morning story.  This morning, like many Montrealers, I saw my metro coming in and ran down the stairs to catch it.  I was nowhere near, and it was most likely that I would miss this metro, and have to wait 3 minutes to catch the next one.

THREE WHOLE MINUTES.  I can’t wait that long.  I am a very busy and important person.

So, I decided to skip stairs.  Which I have never done before, at least going down stairs.  And, although I started well, my eyes miscounted and I fell…down the stairs.  In my skirt.  I landed awkwardly on my hip.  That will leave a bruise.

The good people of Montreal picked me up, dusted me off, and set me back on my feet.  And they all had to wait another 3 minutes for the next train.  I wish I could bake them cookies.  I wish I could explain how grateful I was, but I was pretty embarrassed.  And I couldn’t understand their Québécois, which sometimes just sounds like “tsp speh dsss”.

Oh yeah, the coffee story.  So I am from Seattle, and as a good Seattleite, used to drink coffee with LOTS of milk and full of flavors.  So, you can imagine that I consumed plenty of vanilla lattes, caramel macchiatos, peppermint mochas, and creme brulee with extra caramel.  At one point I spent more money on coffee than food.  Of course, like a good Seattle girl, I drank Starbucks, but I really preferred Tully’s coffee.  And then Seattle’s Best Coffee.  And then Nordstrom coffee.  And I loved Uptown Espresso (home of the foam!).  Etc. etc.

And then I met my coffee snob husband, who made fun of my paper cups and plastic lids and was horrified by the amount of milk in my drinks, and simply disgusted by the flavors.  And then I moved to Brussels, Belgium, where NO Starbucks existed (there are now 2 at the airport) and where people drink coffee that tastes…like coffee.

Which is where I learned that I don’t like the taste of coffee.

Blech…it is bitter and the taste stays in your mouth forever.  So I am a dedicated tea drinker.

But today, after sprawling on the subway floor and flashing friendly Montrealers, I decided to get myself a Starbucks coffee, in one of their great holiday flavors.  So I went across the street from my office and ended up with a “pain d’epice” latte.  Gingerbread…yummy.  Tastes NOTHING like coffee.

But as I was paying, I noticed a sign for a latte “lait de poule”, and I couldn’t figure out what it was.  Chicken milk?  Gross.  Can you guess what it is?

Give up?  I am not sure if people in France or other francophone countries drink this, but if they do, I don’t think they refer to it as this.  It is EGGNOG.  An eggnog latte is referred to as chicken milk latte.  Barf.

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Bits and Pieces

November 19, 2009 by petitemahsa

I need to have travel plans at all times.  I need to be looking forward to a trip, looking at ticket prices, checking on tripadvisor.com for hotel reviews, asking friends for opinions and suggestions.  Lets just say my Thanksgiving trip to Seattle makes me smile every time I think about it.  And I think about it alot. I think I have mentioned to everyone I have seen in the past month.

My office is closed at the end of the year, so obviously I have been looking for flights around the world.  Proximity-wise, it makes most sense to visit the Caribbean.  Here is my short list:

  • Cuba (yeah Canada!)
  • Turks and Caicos
  • The Virgin Islands
  • Coasts of Mexico
  • Barbados

Thoughts about my options?  Choices are aplenty, but ticket prices are ghastly, so the cheapest option will win.

On another note, I didn’t want to say anything and jinx it, but the Montreal weather so far has been AMAZING.  So much better than I was anticipating for mid-November.  So good, I actually rode my bike to work yesterday.  It is still cold, but there is plenty of sunshine…and NO snow so far.  We had two days of snow tease, but it didn’t stick and melted.

And finally, eventhough we argue about it the entire time — some of us like more cheese than other, some of us like mushrooms under the cheese, and some of us think differently and are therefore wrong.  The point is, Pedram makes the best homemade pizza…ever.  From scratch.

Homemade tomato sauce on homemade dough

 

Before going in the oven

The final result

I am not lying when I say it is pretty darn good pizza.  Come over, and he’ll make it for you.  I played the role of sous-chef — I prepared the mushrooms.

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All in a day’s work

November 18, 2009 by petitemahsa

In Rusby’s own words:

My day starts 6:45am, when I wake up and wait anxiously for the alarms to wake up my humans.  Then they start groaning, and I start to shake in my crate.  I am a morning person, and I am ready to go out.

Then I head straight to the backyard, where I play a game of catch for a few minutes and take care of some business.  Catch is sometimes fun, sometimes annoying, so when the man human isn’t looking, I take some time to destroy the ball.

This ball used to be similar to a soccer ball.  It also used to be round.

Then it time for breakfast. I spin around in circles until I am dizzy, then sit and wait patiently for my food to arrive.

Usually after then, I get my first major petting fix.  I draw in the humans by lying on my back, exposing my incredibly soft chest.

And now it is time for a walk.  The sun is peeking out, and kids line the streets as I strut by.  Boys are usually scared by my badass looks, but girls adore me.

And of course, I have a little bit more business to take care of.

Eventually, the humans leave and I hang out around the house, killing my stuffed animals until they no longer resemble anything.  I also make sure to pull out all squeaking elements and eat them.  My currently fascination includes my moose.

But for the second time since I moved to my new home, temptation got the best of me, and I managed to knock down the garbage can and spill the trash on the floor.  I tried to clean it up, but wasn’t able eat all of it.  The humans were not very happy with the results.  I watched them clean it up.  It wasn’t pretty.

And then we go out again, but this time the man human is not so happy with me.  We go to the outdoor market to get fruits and vegetables, and the smells overwhelm me.

At this point, I get to eat, and the humans also make some of their own food.  Which they do not share with me.  Eventhough it smells good.  So I show my belly again for some more attention.

Then we play a bit with my ball, and I sit, shake and lie down.  I get a little bit of grooming done too, which I love.  I close my eyes and let my hair be brushed.  And then when I am done with that, I just show my belly again.

Around 10pm, we take one last stroll outside, and this time, I get to run around without a leash.  I run through the leaves, kicking up dirt behind me, around the trees and herd my humans, circling from one to the other.

And boy, is that exhausting.  Usually then I pass out for the night, ideally in the lap of someone.  Back to the crate, ready to start the routine again this morning.

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Fall Musings

November 17, 2009 by petitemahsa

So far, I am really enjoying the fall.  It has been a radiant one here, with changing colors and life everywhere I look.

People up here pride themselves on fall, a season so fleeting that if you don’t pay attention, you might not see the beauty so brilliant it prevents you from feeling the bitter cold.  In Seattle I never loved the fall, although it is beautiful when it is sunny, similar to almost seasons in Seattle, you don’t get those sunny days very often.  In Brussels, fall is the best season, better than summer which always disappointed me, but I was always guaranteed sunshine during the fall season. But here in the Northeast, fall is THE season to enjoy — trees changing, cooler weather, wool coats, scarves and gloves, warm drinks and long walks.  And if you take a moment to look up for a moment, you can be surprised by the gorgeous display.

This fall, I have also been thinking about another “fall”, the destruction of the Berlin Wall 20 years ago.  I remember where I was, in Mr. Swidler’s history class — and I remember well him telling us that we were witnessing history.  At the time it didn’t mean much, but my trip to Berlin last year reminded me of how much really changed when the wall fell.  It is still standing in areas of Berlin, drawing a line between the city and its people.  The city has evolved in so many ways since 1989, but pieces of the old system remain, reminding us constantly of how seasons are always changing, and the fall will always come, creating a different landscape, preparing us for the winter.  All that is solid melts into air.

 

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Googoosh-ing it

November 16, 2009 by petitemahsa

Lately I have been singing my sentiments to Pedram, occasionally using old-school Googoosh lyrics.  Who is Googoosh?  She is one of the most famous Iranian singers/actresses, topping charts for over 30 years.  She is, no doubt, the sweetheart of the pre-revolution era, and as my cousin Omid once screamed at the top of his lungs at a Googoosh concert, “she is truly the red rose of Iran.”

What does Googoosh mean? I have no idea.  What a funny name.

Googoosh is now living in Los Angeles, and still performing, although her adorable sassiness has grown into a sophisticated blond with a raspy smokers voice.  Regardless, her music touches the hearts of Iranians around the world.  Pedram, for some reason, does not have any sentiments for Googoosh, her music or her lyrics, so it is my role to fill this void in his Iranian-ness.

I only really know old-school Googoosh, when she was still brunette.  My sister and I used to dance to this song, wearing dresses and sashaying down to the floor and back again.  Now I realize what FOBs we really were.

When Pedram is nice, like when he lets me sleep in on the weekends, I sing to him that “without him I am broken frame on the wall”.

Side note – I love her moves and her dress.  It is perfect.

This is still old school Googoosh, where she laments ever believing a man.  This is appropriate when Pedram promises to pick up his phone, and then doesn’t, meaning that I am stranded.  As Googoosh states, “What a mistake I made, believing your words”. I also imitate these moves.

 

 

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Kindle vs. the real thing

November 14, 2009 by petitemahsa

My sister recently invested in the Kindle, and for the longest time she was debating it.  I understand her plight, because we are both book lovers who travel, and carrying around books is annoying.  I completely relate to the draw of electronic books, having embraced technology with my lovely iPhone.  Being able to buy a book anytime you want, downloading it automatically, and storing all of them in one convenient space, where they are at your fingertips anytime.

But I will resist the temptation to enter the electronic book fad, mostly because my relationship with books has been incredibly sentimental.  Books are my friends, I develop feelings for them, take them everywhere with me, often fall asleep with my arms around them, and wake up excited to delve into them.

I hug my books.

I dog-ear the pages, and re-read my favorites over and over.  I gift books to those I love, passing my strong emotional bond to another person, hoping they find it as touching as I do.  I judge people on the metro, at airport terminals, on the bus, by the books they are reading.  When impatient, I skip to the end of the book to see how it ends.  I like the feel of the pages in between my fingers and find comfort in the black ink on the page.

So when it comes to books (and newspapers, and magazines), I am traditional.  Having it electronic feels cold, impersonal and just not my style.  Bring on the paper.

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