Dream a little dream of me...

I am usually not a head in the clouds type of girl. But for the past few days I want nothing more, than to daydream...

A few days ago, I was told by my trusty little assistant that my "Compooter" mysteriously lost a button. A pretty big and essential one. But I still type away.... I don't even notice it gone. I am telling you, my head is deep in the clouds...

The Missing Piece Meets the Big O, by Shel S.

A friend gave us a bag of the most delicious chocolate coated Almonds from FreeHeart Farms, for Valentine's day. I opened the bag late Monday night when Mr. Urban and I rendezvoused for his early Valentine gift from me, the entire second season of Downton Abbey....

If you remember tasting a piece of chocolate that stood out beyond any other random chocolate that has ever graced your palate, then you can imagine what these Almonds taste like. Problem is, if you have a case of head-in-the-clouds-itis, they can be pretty dangerous to have around....

Mama, Will You Be My Valentine?

And Valentines day didn't help things much either.

Anyways, I am all Etta James, Sunday Dreamin'... dreaming of the country side.... of vintage America... of cream linen slip covers... of sitting in the shade of fruit trees... I even baked a country chocolate cream pie! Having a Sunday Kind of Love...

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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

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