Too little, too Short

The lucky girl that I am, I got to board a plane yesterday and have a completely proud-mama-to-a-perfect-travelling-toddler kinda flight. And better yet, hours later I arrived somewhere nestled in the mountains, to a cozy home, on a beautiful golf course, surrounded by old, tall pine trees. Somewhere we like to affectionately call Mama's Lodge (which is not a lodge at all).

We'll be spending a special long weekend in Vancouver.

Naturally, Mr Urban, will be banging out emails and chain conference calling in the lodge's den, most of the short 144 hours we will be spending here.

For the UrbanBaby the time will be spent getting squished and passed around from Grandma to Grandpa, from Auntie to Uncle and back. And the special company of one cute bunny has already made the world a much better place for her. She has been smiles and giggles since she arrived.

Rocky Point's Pier (Port Moody, BC)

And as for me... I already had a lovely time with the Princess (my sister, remember?) last night, while I sat at the kitchen counter late at night and watched her whip up some concoction for her tomorrow's lunch: protein pancakes and sauteed fat free ham. We chatted about her new job and all the excitement that comes with being a 24 year old (zebra prints and white stiletto boots)...   This morning I had a jog at Port Moody's Rocky Point, followed by a long and lingering 20 minute shower without a single worry for the UrbanBaby.

Appropriately enough, I am enjoying an excellent book: A Homemade Life.

And in the short 120 hours that remain, there will be lots (but never enough) time with Mom.  Sushi with Dad and my lovable brother. A "Ladies Only" shopping trip and lunch at Vancouver's Art Gallery (the food and ambiance is excellent). And a closing dinner at the Lodge with loved ones to celebrate "Spring of 2010" with a menu inspired by MSL's June edition.

Here's wishing you an early Happy Weekend, where ever your lovely life may take you...

Comments

FORTY THREE YEARS, SEVEN MONTHS AND FORTY DAYS

My life and the life of every Iranian I know, is bookended by the Iranian Revolution of 1979. It doesn't matter that I was barely old enough to remember this historic event or that I spent the decades that followed it, far far away from Iran, the Revolution of 1979 is a heavy, tacky, cruel bookend that defines who we used to be, who we are and the recurring nightmares and dreams we’ve had for 43 years. I can pinpoint with certainty the exact month after which a general feeling of displacement settled like sticky dust all over me, my family, my classroom, my teachers, our closest friends, our home, our city… In the years and decades that followed, I never experienced another event that brought such a magnitude of change to the nucleus of life. Not in Iran, and definitely not after a whole life lived outside of Iran. Perhaps only recently, the experience of the Trump years and the Covid-19 pandemic, the significant fear, change and frustration that both events brought to our col

On Donald Trump, Crunchy Bananas and our Children... A "How To" on keeping up Spirits and Sanity

The other morning at breakfast, my four year old looked, yet again somberly, at the breakfast before her. Despite having enthusiastically selected a hodgepodge of liberally salted hard boiled egg whites on the side of toasted hamburger buns, strawberries and vanilla yogurt and a cup of milk, she still could not bring herself to enjoy her breakfast. Her face was wrinkled, as was mine with exasperation from yet another failed attempt at assembling a palatable breakfast for my picky eater. This one, she is quite the philosopher. And before I could ask her why she wasn't eating, she said: "Two Things!" Holding up two tiny fingers. "The smells of these foods I picked, don't go with each other! And I wish Donald Trump would magically become Hillary Clinton, and the word (world) would be GREAT again". Despite our best efforts to protect our children from the anxiety of these times, they are alert and picking up on the mood (and the lingo) in the wor

Safa

I have always loved words. The way some people love shiny new objects. As soon as I heard a new word, a word that captured my imagination, my energy, my hundreds of unnamed inner thoughts and feelings, I would latch on to it with fearceness, joy and curiosity. I have also always been intrigued by how regular old words can be used in an unexpected context and evoke bursts of unexpected feelings in the listener, such as laughter, anticipation or tears. I would search for those words coming out of the mouths of everyone around me, and mentally catalog them like a dutiful librarian, and await the opportunity to say the words with my own mouth out loud to an audience, or better yet use it in an essay where the teacher could grade it, get a kick out of it, or read it to the whole class. As a child I always loved the Persian word Safa . For one thing the word sounds so simple, yet sophisticated and beautiful, and for another, each of my memories of hearing this word is stored in th

An Urban Girl

Search This Blog