On My Kindle: Volume 1

Roger got me a Kindle for my birthday last year, and I’m just as in love with it today as I was the day I got it. I read a lot before I got my Kindle, but now, well now I read a lot more than a lot. And what kind of good preschooler would I be if I didn’t share? A very, very bad one. So, here are some books that might tickle some of your fancies. I know they’ve entertained me mightily over the past couple of weeks.

Boneshaker and Clementine by Cherie Priest
I’m a sucker for some steampunk, and Cherie Priest fits the bill. I purchased Boneshaker exactly 6 days ago, and I completed it 2 days later. Then I spent a day thinking about how much I wished the book was longer, because I wanted to be reading more about Cherie Priest’s United States during the Civil War, complete with dirigibles, zombies, mad scientists and fantastical machines. One day. That’s how long it took me to go scavenging for some more Cherie Priest on Amazon, where I found Clementine, a follow-up to Boneshaker. And, it was only $2.99, by the way. One day. That’s how long it took me to read Clementine. I gobbled it up like a giant bowl of that marzipan Ben & Jerry’s ice cream I’ve been obsessing about lately. And for a couple days now I’ve been fighting the urge to buy another book. I am pretty sure I will fail this task tonight. Don’t tell Roger. He already thinks I buy too many books.

Emily Post: Daughter of the Gilded Age, Mistress of Manners by Laura Claridge
I’ve had a long-running obsession with etiquette. As a child I never missed a Miss Manners’ column, and I actually really cared to know which fork was the right one to use for salad or fish or whatever. One of my favorite presents ever was a stationary set, which I used to send thank you notes to everyone for just about anything. So of course I am intrigued by Emily Post, and this book covers her life in fascinating detail. One of my favorite things about this biography is that it also provides a great snapshot of the changing times from the Gilded Age all the way up through the Great Depression, World War II and the 40s and 50s. Even people who aren’t etiquette fiends would enjoy this one.

Spook Country by William Gibson
What more is there to say other than “William Gibson”? Really, I love everything he’s ever written, and this is no different.

1 Comment

zahra, November 18th 2010 | Tags:
Posted in Culture + Stuff

Favorite Things: 1st Edition

Red Mango

These days tart fro-yo places are as ubiquitous as Starbucks, and the D.C. metro area is no exception. My favorite of these places, though, is Red Mango, which opened a location in the Clarendon neighborhood of Arlington. Their yogurt has the exact right amount of tartness, and their toppings are tasty and fresh. All of their flavors are great, but their regular is so sublime I almost never get anything else. It works particularly well with mochi and any fruit that is both a little tart and a little sweet, like strawberries, kiwi, or mango. Bonus points for the great service.

Children’s shows

Before I became a mother everyone told me that one day I would like the inane children’s movies put out by the dozen by Pixar, Disney and their compatriots. They liked. I still don’t like that drivel. But I do love a good, live children’s show. Azita has been to several at our favorite music joint in Vienna, Jammin’ Java, from Elizabeth Mitchell to Farmer Jason (also known as Jason from Jason and the Scorchers). And, of course, there was Yo Gabba Gabba Live, which was just plain awesome. But one of our most favorite shows was Gustafer Yellowgold, and he’s coming back to town on November 21st. If you live in the D.C. Metro area and have kids, I highly recommend attending this show which not only includes the lyrically beautiful music, but also the most whimsical videos to accompany the tunes.

Street Festivals

I just love a good street festival. Walking around in the hustle and bustle, people watching, street food, music. And this is the season. Now that the weather is cooling down just a bit, festivals are everywhere to be found. Last weekend we went to Clarendon Day in Arlington and this coming weekend we’ll be heading out to Bethesda, Maryland to the Children of Persia Walk for Children which features follow-up festivities, including yummy Persian food, vendor tables, music. And it’s for a good cause — helping needy children in Iran.

3 Comments

zahra, October 1st 2010 | Tags: , , , , , ,
Posted in Culture + Stuff

Off-Centered in Arlington

One of the things I love about living in Arlington is that while it has its share of yuppies and those who have already moved about as upwardly as one can, there is still a certain element that adds flavor to our neighborhood.

There’s the running woman, for example. She runs everywhere. When she is clearly on her way to work or on her way home for work, dressed in her most business-like finest, she runs. She runs to and from the grocery store, bags of produce in hand. She runs to the CVS down the street. She runs everywhere. Except when she is walking her cat, a marmalade creature who weighs a good 30 pounds or more. Her cat barely walks, so when she walks her cat, she not only doesn’t run, she also doesn’t walk. She just stands there holding her cats leash while he sits in the grass, soaking up the sunshine.

There’s the Guatamalan woman who pushes a stroller filled with disposable chafing dishes of home-cooked food, selling plates of sustenance to the day laborers who have never seen the inside of a kitchen and have no woman in their life to feed them. I like to imagine that she doles out advice and kind words with her plates of rice and meat, and that these men feel just a little bit less lonely when they eat a dinner she made.

My favorite, though. My all-time favorite. It has to be the twins. We always seem to run into them at our local Harris Teeter. They are completely identical. At their advanced age, easily in their 60s or 70s, they still dress completely alike, usually in a brightly colored windbreaker, matching berets, navy blue or red polyester slacks, and nearly sparkling white Keds. They each push a folding shopping cart, and they walk in perfect step, the smell of moth balls wafting behind them.

Over the years we’ve lived here Roger and I have imagined their conversations. Surely they were fantastical and worthy of the next David Lynch movie. We imagined their lives, the events that led to them walking the aisles of a grocery store as a perfectly matching unit.

Then one day I forgot a bell pepper, and Roger ran off to get it for me while I looked at the nut butters and jams. On his way back he passed the pickles, and there they were huddled over jars of gherkins, murmuring. Murmuring too softly for him to hear, but he did hear something. Just a little snippet.

“I really do prefer dill pickles.”

“Well. Allrighty.”

That was it. I mean if you’ve lived an identical life with someone else for 60-plus years, don’t you think you’d already know they preferred dill pickles? It was so normal and strange at the same time. Just like Arlington, and just like life.

No Comments

zahra, September 15th 2010 | Tags: , ,
Posted in Culture + Stuff

Yooooooo Gabba Gabba!

Several months ago I sat in the pediatrician’s office holding a screaming, thrashing toddler on my lap as I tried to administer a nebulizer treatment. It was painful. She kicked and punched, and she screamed very loud. So loudly that eventually our pediatrician poked her head in to check out the commotion. My face flushed to an abnormal shade of pink.

Our pediatrician suggested I find a television show that Azita loved and only let her watch it during her daily nebulizer treatments. This is how Yo Gabba Gabba entered our lives. Azita loves this show. And in the interest of being open and truthful, Roger and I also love it. I’m not ashamed of it either. DJ Lance Rock is awesome and I challenge anyone to watch Brobee sing and dance and not think he’s freakin’ adorable.

So imagine my excitement when I heard that Yo Gabba Gabba Live was coming to town. I was really excited. So excited I yelled “Yooooooooo Gabba Gabba” and the rest of the people in my office gave me a look that made me fear they were calling the guys in the white coats.

I bought tickets the minute they went on sale, and we waited and waited for what would surely be the most exciting day thus far of Azita’s short life.

And the day finally arrived.

Free Bird!

Azita was stoked.

Waiting with bated breath

We all waited with bated breath. Literally. Look at Roger. I’m pretty sure he’s no longer breathing at this point.

And then the curtains opened, and DJ Lance Rock’s boom box appeared on a giant screen. Azita’s interest was piqued.

Hark! I see a boom box.

Then the Yo Gabba Gabba gang joined DJ Lance Rock on stage.

The show begins

And Azita, well, she got scared. She clutched our arms, furrowed her brow and tried her hardest to suppress a whimper.

The onset of anxiety

That is, she was scared until the dancing finally commenced.

Enter song and dance

She started to warm up to the festivities. But then they dropped balloons from the ceiling.

Balloons!

And things really started looking up.

Things are turning around

There was much singing and dancing and shouting and laughing. A good time was had by all.

Yo Gabba Gabba is #1

At the end of the night, we all agreed. Yo Gabba Gabba is #1.

And we couldn’t have asked for a more magical time.

1 Comment

zahra, August 31st 2010 | Tags: ,
Posted in Culture + Stuff, Parenthood + Childhood

Pondering the Narrow and Degraded Soul

“I will permit no man to narrow and degrade my soul by making me hate him.” -Booker T. Washington

Lately life has conspired against me, or more specifically, my knowledge of current events. I always taken a little pride in my ability to keep up to date on the goings on of the world around us, but like anyone else there are times when school, work, family all get in the way. And then I do “pick up a newspaper” (by which I clearly mean, head over to my favorite news aggregators), and I wish I could remain ignorant.

Last week was one of those times.

Michael Enright was a good guy. On paper. He was an honors student at a good college. He came from a “good family.” He volunteered in Afghanistan. He cared about the world around him. No one would look at a profile of Michael Enright and think “This guy is a bad person.” Meddling mothers might even drool over him for their daughters.

Today, Michael Enright appeared in court. Not for too many traffic tickets or running a red light or any other petty crime so many of us have committed. He will appear in court for stabbing a Muslim cab driver simply because he was Muslim.

I would say it boggles my mind, but it really doesn’t. Rather, it reminds me of my early years in elementary school. The year was 1980. I was in the second grade. I was hairy and swarthy and pronounced words weirdly. I brought kuku sabzi or goosht-e-kubideh sandwiches for lunch. And halfway across the world some Iranians, just like me but not at all like me, captured and held hostage 52 Americans.
A year after that  I sat at my school desk one morning and felt a pair of small, 7-year-old hands, not so very different from mine, close around my neck. And the words “I hate you. I am going to kill all Eye-ranians” were uttered softly, but vehemently, in my ear.

That event marked the beginning of a difficult time, not just for me, but for any Iranian who lived and loved this country. It was difficult not just because I had nothing to do with, and in fact did not approve of, the taking of any hostages. But it was especially difficult, because I didn’t even understand the politics or the specifics of what was going on. All I knew was that my parents seemed worried and the news seemed scary. And I was scared for my people, and now I also had to be scared for myself.

That event haunts me to this day, mostly because the boy who took this action against me was a child, the same age as me from the same neighborhood. And yet he was filled with hatred, something I had never felt and didn’t know existed. Over 30 years later, I still cannot understand that kind of hatred.

Yes, I can understand hatred toward an individual person although I hope to never feel that, and I try my hardest to make sure I temper such feelings. An individual person, after all, can be responsible for irreparably harming another person in some way, whether physically or emotionally, and that is bound to stir up anger and in some cases even hatred. But there really is no such thing as an entire people being responsible for anything. An entire race of people cannot perpetrate an action. It is individuals who hurt others, so why do people hate those who are superficially the same?

Sometimes I think people are filled with hate and it needs to find a way out. Maybe it’s something humans are born with deep inside them, and it lies silently waiting for the right trigger. It makes me scared that perhaps I, too, am capable of such a thing. But mostly it makes me sad. We all have so much love to give to the world. I know this when I look at my daughter’s sleeping face, so peaceful, so naive. I know she is incapable of hatred. If I think about it too much when I am awake with churning thoughts in the middle of the night, I am overcome with fear for the things she will have to see and experience. I fear for the day she learns that the world isn’t only sunshine and happiness.

As with many issues in life I have no solutions, and I cannot shield her from it all. I can only make sure she has enough love in her life to make small and inconsequential all the hatred in this otherwise beautiful world.

No Comments

zahra, August 30th 2010 | Tags: , , , ,
Posted in Culture + Stuff, Parenthood + Childhood

Things I Love When Life’s Got Me Down

Things are kind of hard lately. Our status has definitely changed from raining to pouring in our household. When things get rough, as Maria Von Trapp taught me, it’s always nice to think of your favorite things. So, here are a few of my favorite things.

Edy's Fruit Bars, Creamy Coconut flavor

Edy’s Whole Fruit Coconut Bar

These are seriously the best thing you’ve ever tasted. The Edy’s Whole Fruit bars come in lots of flavors, but none of them can top the coconut flavor. It’s creamy, but refreshing. Satisfying, but not too rich. It satisfies your craving for something decadent without significant calories to show for it. On 100 degree days like we’ve been having lately, I can’t think of anything else I’d rather have. I’ve been known to eat two of these in place of a “real” meal. I just can’t help myself. And if I wouldn’t feel just a bit of self-loathing, I’d probably eat three in one sitting.
Tarte Lip Stain (image copyright owned by Tarte Cosmetics)

Tarte Lip Stain (image copyright owned by Tarte Cosmetics)

Tarte Lipsurgence Natural Lip Stain

This year, for the Persian New Year, my sister bought me makeup. We both share an obsession with makeup, specifically skincare lotions and lipsticks, lip stains, lip glosses, basically anything that adds a little color and/or shine to our lips. We buy each other lots of makeup and about 10% of our conversations, which last for several hours a week, center around makeup. My obsessions usually flit between lip products, but this lip stain has quite possibly won my heart. I have used nothing but, in either moody (a deep berry red) or lust (a bright cherry red), for the past 4 months. The best part is that they hydrate my lips like nothing else. I even briefly considered tossing all other lip products out of my makeup bag. But, don’t worry. No lipstick was harmed. I said I was obsessed, not crazy.
True Blood

I need not say much about this, since I’ve already devoted about a gazillion blog posts, tweets, and facebook comments to this show. But it’s back on, and I’m just as enthralled.
Iced Coffee

My husband makes the best iced coffee in the world. It’s way better than Starbucks and Caribou. It’s way better than any iced coffee I’ve tasted. Seriously. If you ever stop by, I’ll coerce him to make you a glass if you so desire.

That brings me to the other thing I love. The best thing.

Azita and Roger

Azita and Roger

I always save the best for last.

3 Comments

zahra, July 12th 2010 | Tags: , , , ,
Posted in Culture + Stuff

Remember Me?

Remember high school? Do you remember the people in your class?

I’m not old. High school was only 19 years ago, and I’m saying that with a straight face, because I really do think that 19 years is not that long in the scheme of things. I also pride myself on having a a pretty fantastic memory. But seriously. Who the heck are these people Classmates.com keeps thinking I should remember?

I receive two or three emails a day with a subject line that goes something like this: “Remember Xavier McGillicuddy? Share your memories.” Xavier McGillicuddy? No. Actually, I don’t remember Xavier, nor do I have any memories to share about him.

I’m not saying I don’t remember anyone from high school. I remember a few people, and I’ve even friended some of them on Facebook. The thing is that I can’t put a face to most names from my high school class. It says nothing about the person these people are. I’m sure most of those people are pretty okay, and some of them are maybe even super fantastic.

I’m pretty sure that there are also probably a few hundred people out there who are getting emails that say “Remember Zahra Safavian? Share your memories about Zahra with your classmates.” And all of those people are thinking, “Who the heck is Zahra Safavian?”

So when someone I can’t remember sends me and the rest of my former classmates an email letting us know that our 20th high school reunion is nigh, is it any wonder that I think I’ll pass? And also, who the heck is this Debbie woman who’s planning it all? She must not have been on the Math Team. Not that I remember any of my teammates either.

All this is to say to all of you high school students out there that when your parents say “None of this will matter in 20 years.” Trust them. They know what they’re talking about.

2 Comments

zahra, June 30th 2010 | Tags: , , ,
Posted in Culture + Stuff

Mama Shoe, Meet Baby Shoe

A couple months ago while frolicking with Azita and Roger and family and friends and family friends in my cousin Maryam’s backyard, one of the girls we were kicking a ball around with runs up and puts her foot next to mine. “Hey, we’re wearing the same shoes.” And wouldn’t you know it? She was right. I was wearing the same shoes as a ten year old. “Great,” I thought. “I’m going to be one of those old ladies who’s wearing the same thing as a girl 30 years her junior, and everyone will think I’m afraid of aging, that I have a Peter Pan complex or something.”

I’m so not afraid of aging, you see. I will tell anyone my age. Go ahead. Ask me. I’m serious. I will tell you that I’m turning 37 this year, and I don’t care. In fact, I kind of like it, because it’s another year I’m putting between my current stage in life and the misery that is 13. The more distance from the teen years, the better.

Some shoes are just classics. Anyone can pull them off. Classic Converse are just that type of shoe. I have no qualms about wearing basically the same shoe as my little toddler.

Should I still be blogging when I’m 80, maybe I’ll post a pic of Azita’s and my Chucks next to her daughter or son’s. They are just that timeless. I’m sure they’ll still be around and be just as cool, no matter how old you are.

No Comments

zahra, May 10th 2010 | Tags: , , ,
Posted in Culture + Stuff

Should I Stay or Should I Go

I’m usually not a procrastinator, but when it comes to shelling out for a somewhat big purchase I tend to put things off like a champ. So it ended up that when I finally got around to registering for BlogHer ’10 they were all sold out, and I ended up on the wait list. Truthfully, I didn’t just procrastinate because I’m so much more money conscious now that we’re parents. I put things off because I was a bit nervous about the prospect of attending this conference. And I signed up for the wait list, because I honestly didn’t think I’d ever get a spot. This way I could say I tried, but “oh well.”

Now I should preface this by saying that I am not generally nervous about conferences. In my career I have had to attend many a conference and stand up and present in front of audiences both large and small. Nary a droplet of sweat drips from my armpit when it comes to networking or public speaking or anything else one might be called upon to do at a conference. In fact you might say I thrive on these kind of interactions.

So why am I so nervous about BlogHer ’10? Why did I, just 10 minutes after receiving the email that I now have a ticket, start wondering if I should even go? Because I’ve worked myself into a frenzy of high school proportions. That’s why.

Anyone who’s read my musings knows that I wasn’t very good at the social aspects of high school. There were the cheerleaders and the jocks and the freaks and the geeks and all manner of cliques, and I didn’t fit in to a single one of them. I’m just not very good at fitting in. I’m no more of an individual than others. I’m just not so good at subsuming the qualities that set me apart from others who are mostly like me. I’m also pretty intimidated by a social group, especially one that consists predominantly of women.

Let’s face it. Women are mean, especially when they’re in groups.

I’ve read the posts written by women preparing for BlogHers past, and they are rife with worries about what they will wear, how they will do their hair and other details of their appearance. I like to look nice and feel good about the way I look just as much as the next person, but I don’t like feeling like I will be judged based on these superficial details. They reflect very little of who I am inside, and it makes me nervous to know that people might be looking at me. I am very much one of those people who flushes an embarrassingly strong shade of crimson when required to walk in front of or by a crowd. And a crowd of women is even more embarrassing, because no one judges women more than other women. And that’s what I’m afraid of.

I want to go to BlogHer to learn how to take my writing to the next level. I like writing. I like taking photographs. I like publishing things digitally. I actually have degrees that combine all of these things, so I obviously have some know how in this area. And I want to learn more and get better and maybe one day spend much more of my time doing all of this. I don’t want to feel like I need to work my way into a clique to do it.

So here I am wondering if I should even go. Wondering if I should give up a learning experience because of the nerve-wracking social aspects that I’m plain ill-equipped to deal with. I’ve never been able to work my way into an in crowd or even an out crowd, and I’m not fooling myself into believing that I’ll be able to do that now. I don’t really have a circle of blog friends, and I’ll admit that sometimes it bothers me a little because don’t we all want to feel like people like us at least some of the time?

But really I don’t care, and you know what? I am going to BlogHer, because it will be a learning experience. And that is something I never turn down. I love to learn, and I think this conference will be a fabulous opportunity for me to learn a lot. So I won’t be elected BlogHer prom queen or even be invited to the dance, but so what? It’s usually all down hill after prom for the queen anyways.

2 Comments

zahra, May 7th 2010 | Tags: , , ,
Posted in Culture + Stuff

Gustafer Yellowgold

This past Saturday we took Azita to her second show at one of our local music joints, Jammin Java. Both Roger and I tend to like indie music more than popular, overly-produced stuff. This is not to say that we don’t like Coldplay or bands like Wilco that are a lot more popular and produced than when we first fell in like with them. But really, there’s something about a self-produced song that holds a lot more charm than music that’s been claimed by the major music labels.

We’re doing our best to give Azita just such an appreciation for music. This is mostly because I think I may slit my wrists if she ever asks me to take her to a Hannah Montana or Britney Spears concert. I just can’t have it. There’s a little more selfishness to our madness, though. We both love live music, and I hate to leave Azita on a weekend to go off to a show when I already see so little of her.

Jammin Java and many small music venues in the area have presented a solution to our dilemma — children’s shows that adults can love on weekend mornings and afternoons and on weekdays before the 11pm crowd we were once a part of takes over the place. On Saturday, we caught a musical act that more than fits this bill. Gustafer Yellowgold.

This is happy and haunting music. It sticks with you. Two days later, I am still humming these tunes. And kids love it too. Azita literally climbed up on a table and started dancing, and I’m not using the word “literally” in that annoying way that people tend to use it. I really mean “literally.” As in, she was sitting on a table and swaying, kicking her feet, moving her arms and bobbing her head to the music. It was pretty awesome, and it made us laugh so infectiously you could almost see bubbles of laughter floating over the audience making everyone else laugh also.

Not only was the music pretty awesome, but it was accompanied by stop-frame animation. So it was that we learned the story of Gustafer Yellowgold, who comes from the sun and now lives in St. Cloud, Minnesota with his best friend, Slimothy the eel. Over the course of an hour, their lives were sung and illustrated more lyrically and whimsically than anything I’ve ever seen.

Critics have compared this show to the Yellow Submarine, but I think it was far more sublime.

Gustafer Yellowgold. Remember the name, and go buy the CD/DVD set immediately. This is a commandment. You will love it.

No Comments

zahra, March 29th 2010 | Tags: , , ,
Posted in Culture + Stuff
« Older Posts