I’m a paranoid person. I mean really paranoid. Let’s say I say hello to a coworker and the coworker doesn’t respond. Most people would think “Oh, {insert person’s name here} didn’t hear me.” That would be the logical thing to think and probably the most likely explanation for said event. I know this, because I am generally a very logical person. In spite of this, my thought process in this situation would go something like this:
Hmmm. Why didn’t person A respond to my hello? Maybe person A is mad at me? What did I do to make person A mad at me? Or maybe person A just never liked me and was only being civil to me because person A needed me to complete task 1. Is it because I’m obnoxious? Oh wait, I bet it’s because I said I didn’t like that fruit flavored gum 3 weeks ago when person A offered me a piece. Or maybe I smell bad? Oh no. Please tell me I don’t smell like a sewer. Who can I ask if I smell like a sewer and get the truth but not totally embarrass myself? Oh wait, I know what it is. I’m totally getting fired this afternoon and my boss must have told person A that I’m getting fired, and now person A is trying to ignore me to avoid an awkward situation. Oh crap. How much money do I have in savings? How long will that cover the mortgage if I can’t find another job for a while? Is my resume up-to-date? I’m going to update my resume right now and start emailing people tonight to see if they know of any open positions. What should I tell people when they ask me in the interview about why I left my last position? I can’t say I was fired, right? Can I? I need to find out from someone how to answer that question. What if I don’t have money to buy Azita food or diapers? I can’t believe this is happening to me. I’m such a failure. I have no job and my baby is starving and pooping all over the floor.
Seriously. All of that and usually more (that’s the abridged version) is a typical response I might have to a simple human interaction. WTF, people? This is not natural. I know it. I’m about a quarter of a step away from needing a tin foil hat. I blame my mom for this behavior. She is the one who told my sister and me that no one was really our friend or really liked us, people are always trying to take advantage of us, and books are our only friends. I kid you not. Books are our only friends. How’s that for childhood crazy?
Luckily I’m pretty handy with tin foil. And, Roger’s pretty good at talking me down from just about any ledge. Also, thanks to Roger, I now have a Kindle. That means I can carry hundreds of friends around with me no matter where I go. Take that, Verizon network.
zahra, September 15th 2009 |
Tags: anxiety, childhood trauma, crazy, humor, interpersonal relationships, Kindle, marriage, zahra
Posted in Family + Friends
Today is my birthday. I am now officially 36 and proud of it. I’ve actually been saying I’m 36 for the past 2 or 3 months. I realize that I am probably the only woman (or man, for that matter) over the age of 29 who actually readily admits to her age and even revels in it. I like being 36. I’m actually looking forward to 40. Every year that I get older, things get better. I have a career I love right now. I have a beautiful daughter and a halfway decent husband (ok, ok, he’s pretty terrific, but don’t tell him I said that. It will ruin the illusion.). I actually drive a car that works. I own real estate (very modest real estate, but real estate nonetheless). I actually really don’t care what other people think of me anymore. I have an enviable shoe collection, and an even more enviable book collection. I could go on and on. Let’s face it, the only thing that isn’t better at 36 than at 26 is my skin, and actually that’s not so bad (thank you, Iranian genes).
Plus, unlike the kids of today, I can say that I actually listened to the Pixies the first time around.
zahra, September 5th 2009 |
Tags: aging, birthday, middle age, milestones, zahra
Posted in Short + Sweet
Today is my nephew’s first day of the first grade. The old cliche holds true. It really does seem like just yesterday that he was taking his first steps, saying his first words, and making his way through the whole list of firsts that mark a person’s first couple years of life. I feel simultaneously sad and wistful and elated and proud. On the one hand, he made it this far, and is excelling along the way. He’s smart and thoughtful and kind and just an all around great person. On the other hand, today is fleeting, just like every other day that marked a first in his life. Soon it will be over, and he will never again have a first day of the first grade.
It makes me ponder Azita’s life. Every day that she does something new I mourn the loss of what she was before. She will never again be a little slip of a thing sleeping contently in my arms, unable to crawl away. I once told my sister that I couldn’t wait for Azita to crawl. She said, “It is so cute and exciting when they start crawling, but then they can crawl away from you.” She’s never been so right. For every time Azita crawls towards me, there are twice as many moments when she crawls away from me. And, every time I think that before I know it I’ll be driving her to college, and my heart breaks a little. I’m not sure how I will be able to stand it. (And, I’m really, really hoping she’s not one of those super genius children who go off to college at 8 years old.)
I wrote before about how Roger and I never really considered becoming parents until recently. When we did decide we needed Azita in our lives, we were very committed to being parents to an only child. Then Azita was born, and Roger was (and is) still very committed. I can’t say my resolve is as firm. Every day that Azita blazes through a milestone, I feel like I’m not ready yet to give up who she was the day before. Maybe I didn’t appreciate enough those moments when she was a newborn or before she moved on to solid foods or began crawling. I want them back. Now I know why people have more than one child. Dare I say it? I can almost understand why people have a large number of children. They are forever trying to make the past stick around for a while.
Sometimes I wish life was simpler, and I could be one of those people.
zahra, August 25th 2009 |
Tags: azita, family, motherhood, zahra
Posted in Parenthood + Childhood
I think the question most people will have if they stumble across this blog is “What the hell is catfish?” Kidding, obviously.
Many places in the United States can now boast diverse culinary offerings, from more ubiquitous Mexican cuisine to perhaps the less common Ethiopian or Malaysian. Iranian cuisine falls pretty squarely on the less common side of things. While common in the D.C. area, where I have resided my entire life, and in much of California, not many American cities have an Iranian restaurant. So, I assume that most people haven’t heard of khoresht.
There are two primary mainstays in the Iranian diet — rice and khoresht. What is khoresht? If I had to compare it to something more well-known it would be to an Indian curry or a slightly more soupy Thai or Chinese stir-fry. It’s basically a thick stew that is served over rice. There is a khoresht for every palate — from Khoresht-e Bademjan (an eggplant and tomato stew) to Khoresht-e Fesenjan (a chicken stewed in ground walnuts and pomegranate syrup). If you haven’t tried khoresht, I highly recommend it. They are worth their preparation time for sure. Check out the lovely My Persian Kitchen for some great, authentic recipes for khoresht and other yummy Persian delights.
zahra, August 12th 2009 |
Tags: about, Food + Fitness, Iranians, zahra
Posted in Uncategorized
It finally happened. My job sent me to Europe, the U.K., specifically. I went to a conference in Durham and then spent a day and a quarter in London. It was a lovely trip in spite of the cold, and both Roger and I had a great time. One thing that is not to be missed is riding the national rail across the English countryside. We took the train from London’s Kings Cross station all the way up to Durham, and we saw some of the most beautiful countryside. Sheep, horses, and cows abound, and the grass is so lush and green — the most brilliant emerald color. In spite of our lack of sleep, we found it easy to stay awake and gape at all of the natural beauty.
The flight back to the States was not such a beautiful thing. Delays left both of us grumpy, and it wasn’t long before we were bickering. Luckily, we quickly got over our grumpiness after we had a bite to eat, because Roger had to hold my theoretical hair back while I vomited repeatedly during the landing. To say that the landing was bumpy would be an understatement. It was a roller coaster ride, and it didn’t take on the first try. The captain had to abort the approach, circle around, and attempt the landing once more. The second time wasn’t any less bumpy thanks to gale-force winds, and I’m the kind of person who can barely hold down my lunch during a leisurely drive. Needless to say, I made good use of both mine and Roger’s air sickness bags, and Roger was kind enough to assure me that it was not at all disgusting. Very sweet, as it was most assuredly gross. -Zahra
zahra, December 18th 2007 |
Tags: travel, work, zahra
Posted in Uncategorized
I’ve done the blogging thing before, but it never stuck. I thought I’d give it another try, but this time as a joint effort. This is basically the blog of the Safavian/Hughlett family. We are what happens when two very different people meet, get married, and refuse to change their names or anything else about themselves. So, we are Roger Hughlett and Zahra Safavian, a blond-haired, blue-eyed boy from Joplin, Missouri and a very not-blonde Iranian girl born and raised in Washington, D.C. We are both a little crazy and a lot hot-tempered, and we can probably out-argue most people on this planet. We love each other and often hate each other, sometimes simultaneously.
But, we stay together for the sake of the cats. Kidding. We stay together, because no one else can understand either of us quite like the other can. And, we do have some things in common. We both share an utter disdain for most people. We are both militant pedestrians. Zahra likes to bake, and Roger likes to eat baked goods. We both like soup and snowpeas. And, quite frankly, we could talk or not talk for hours.
-Zahra
zahra, December 5th 2007 |
Tags: about, roger, zahra
Posted in Uncategorized
