shokufeh is…home

If, like me, you are moved by things that bring many people, of great diversity, together, for a common purpose, you might enjoy the following sets of photographs:

• Baha’is celebrate most important festival at most holy site
• In a global procession, ballots are cast for the Universal House of Justice
• Delegates arrive in Haifa for International Bahá’í Convention

Now, I’m just waiting to learn who the members of the next Universal House of Justice are.

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As mentioned before, MrMan is well acquainted with his father’s name. A couple of weeks ago, as he was lying in bed, he said “Parviz.”

“Do you know who that is?”

“PaJun.” (My father.)

Interestingly, he does not know my name, nor my mother’s, even when prompted. If there was any question before as to who says whose name more, that has been answered.

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Okay, it gets even better: after a day that involved a hammock (and hassle-free flights), to come back home and gaze upon and sniff my wee boy.  Who woke up in the early morning hours calling for me, and when actually met with my walking into his room, happily exclaimed, “Mah-mee!”  And then requested to snuggle.

Speaking of snuggling, one of my favorite things he says these days is when he joins us in our bed, gets between us and then commands, “Snuggle parents.”

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Does it get much better than this?  A beautiful spring day in Washington DC,  colorful flowers, a slight breeze….  Yes, it does get better, when you also have the benefit of a hammock, in the shade of a tree.  And wireless, allowing me to file it in my memory-via-blog.

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Dear Eve Ensler,
Thank you. Thank you for caring. Thank you for bringing together an amazing group of women, both on-stage and off. Thank you for noticing that New Orleans is the Vagina of America, the wetlands, providing comfort and pleasure, but ignored, especially when things get tough.
Delighted,
shokufeh

Dear Didi Conn, Doris Roberts, Kerry Washington, Christine Lahti, Charmaine Neville, Rosario Dawson, Kristina Krepela, Liz Mikel, Calpernia Addams, Leslie Townsend, Jennifer Hudson, Jennifer Beals, Jane Fonda, Stephanie Bataille, Amber Tamblyn, Ali Larter, Jennifer Beals, Shirley Knight, Faith Hill, and others,
Thank you for your amusing, moving, jarring, enlightening, and entertaining performances. I’m so touched that you came, on your own dime, to share yourself with us. To share us with us.
Hugs,
shokufeh
p.s. Didi, thanks for being so friendly and humble on Friday when you stopped by our table. I wish it hadn’t taken me so long to put your face and voice together with Frenchy. You’re awesome.
p.p.s. Amber, next time you’re in town, even if Anis isn’t here, give me a call. I’ll treat you to a snowball.

Dear Dr. Denis Mukwege,
Thank you for your work. Keep up the good fight. I appreciate your having come here and sharing in the evening. Even more, I appreciate the work that you carry out for my sisters on the other side of the world.
Admiringly,
shokufeh

Dear Oprah,
I keep looking for the headlines, but have yet to find one that mentions your illness, your incapacitation, your hospitalization. What could have come up that you didn’t appear on stage in New Orleans Saturday night? Asking Eve Ensler to report that you were very ill? Some details would have been nice, making it easier for a stadium of people, many of them women who had sat there waiting to see you, to understand why you let them down. I enjoyed the show nonetheless. But when a show advertises you as a performer, and people have paid money, some of them as much as $1000, headlines should be involved. You are Oprah, after all. Your name is part of what sold tickets to The Vagina Monologues. If you broke your foot, I’m sure someone would have been willing to carry you in. If you had laryngitis, you still could have at least shown your face, letting these women, some of whom were there only because of you, know that you still cared about them, cared about New Orleans. The disappointment was palpable when it was announced you weren’t showing up, that you were “ill. Very, very ill.” You owe thousands a big apology.
Disenchanted,
shokufeh

Dear Times Picayune,
Perhaps it escaped your attention: there were thousands of women attending a couple of events in New Orleans this weekend. Yes, there was the annual French Quarter Festival. But there was also SuperLove, and the all-star performance of The Vagina Monologues, to mark the 10th V-Day and to honor the women of New Orleans and the Gulf South. There were women of all shades, young and old, rich and poor, joined by a few men, filling the Superdome and the Arena. Where’s your write-up? Was it too much to bear that there was both entertainment and activism? Do you fear the vagina?
Disappointed,
shokufeh

Dear New Orleans Police Department,
Once or twice a week, I go to the post office on the way home from work. It always seems to coincide with a Hornets game. I know this not because of the people walking toward the arena, nor an increase in cars going in that direction. In fact, the only way I realize that a game is going on is that I see people at the corner of Girod and Loyola, advertising parking. At that same intersection, I see you, having parked your cars and altering traffic patterns. Despite the fact that there does not seem to be a huge amount of traffic, pedestrian or vehicle. Saturday night, there were streams of people, mostly women, crossing the intersection of Girod and Loyola, walking and driving toward the arena, to attend The Vagina Monologues. Not a one of you was there, helping things to move smoothly. Why?
Underserved,
shokufeh

Dear Salma Hayak,
What happened to you? I was looking forward to your performance. But you weren’t there, and there was no mention of why. In some ways, I appreciate that lack of excuse more than a lie of an excuse. But I’m still disappointed and perplexed. Especially since you were here in town earlier in the week.
Wondering,
shokufeh

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MrMan has brought up crawfish boils several times in the past ten days.  I’ve told him that it’s not the kind of thing we go to every day, or even every weekend.  I just noticed that there’s a crawfish boil at Tulane this weekend.  If we go, do you think MrMan will be disappointed to discover that the common element among crawfish boils is actually crawfish, rather than pony rides?

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It was another great weekend – awesome weather, time with MrMan, friends over for brunch (with MrMan quite enamored of their 16 month old daughter), errands/tasks not totally out of control (in getting done nor in ruling my mind), gardening (who knew I had it in me?), an evening out with friends and my mom, dinner at home but cooked and brought over by my parents, and even an early shower when MrMan decided to go over to my parents’ house for a bit.

It feels like fall (which is always a nice refresher), and I’ve much to say about last night. But for now I must sleep.

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Last week, I was sick for about a day – came home from work and went straight to sleep, waking up in time to help put MrMan to bed.  The next day was time spent in bed, sleeping, reading, watching TV (where I discovered a guilty pleasure: Lipstick Jungle), and applying microwaved old-socks-filled-with-rice to my complaining neck and ears.  The next day, I was home again, this time because MrMan had a fever.  And the day after that, Sam stayed home with MrMan.  We (mostly) rallied for the weekend.

 But now, Sam is sick.  He slept from 5:30 yesterday afternoon to 6:30 this morning.  Then dragged himself to work for a presentation.

And yesterday, I went to exercise for the first time in a couple of weeks (yay, me!), and managed to end up on the floor while making my way around the bosu.  One minute, I was tapping my feet, going in a circle.  The next I felt myself knocking into the wall and noticed a cracking sensation in my ankle.  I thought everything was fine, despite the slight discomfort in my ankle while walking.  However, my ankle and instep are now a bit swollen.  I’m not sure what that means, and have mostly decided to ignore it for now.  (Exept to share it with the world, apparently.)  Good thing I’m still amused by the mental image of my crumpling to the floor yesterday.  Did I mention I was at the very front of the room?

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What a fun ice cream contraption: Cuisipro’s Scoop & Stack. I’m picturing different colored ice cream disks layered on each other. A cylinder of neopolitan. A flower of ice cream. I’m sure it would make a yummy thing even yummier.

(via Holly)

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It was a good weekend, with lots of playing:

• Yesterday, we went to the Lusher Crawfish Boil. The 25th one. Good gosh. Is it possible that I’m that old? Yes. (I very clearly remember the first Lusher crawfish boil. Or at least the preparations for it. It was 1984. I was in fifth grade. And, during after-care, we prepared for the festival by cleaning the street, mucking out detritus from along the curb. I was wearing a raincoat, my waist-length, pastel striped one. So, yeah, I worked up a good sweat. Like all days prior to then, I wasn’t wearing a bra. This is only of significance because I remember that one of my classmates, a boy who was helping in the cleaning, patted me on the back. And then commented that I wasn’t wearing a bra. The things I remember.) I really enjoyed visiting this fundraiser for my old elementary school, even if it is no longer held at that actual school. Highlights of the day include pony rides for MrMan, the acquisition of flowers to plant at home, and this year’s poster with all of the t-shirt designs of the past 25 years. Oh, and sharing crawfish with MrMan. A reminder of why I love calling this place home again.



• Last night, after Sam cut the grass while MrMan and I did grocery shopping for the week (and coming home to discover that MrMan had a fever again – yes, this has been the week of illness), we hurried to Tulane for the New Orleans Youth Slam. Anis is in town for this event, to perform with other professional poets, and high school poets, as a fundraiser for the youth slam team. Nice evening. Some very powerful sentiments.
• MrMan slept past nine this morning, after running around late last night (that Tylenol seems to do the trick every time), and he I lazed about while Sam went to church. Then the three of us, Anis, and an out-of-town relative spent the afternoon together:

1. Lunch at Parkway Tavern & Bakery – I’d heard good things about this place, but this was my first time there. I highly recommend. I’ve never had a po-boy so loaded with fried shrimp. I’ll be going back. Maybe on a Monday to take advantage of the red bean and rice po-boy.
2. Fortuitously crossing paths with the Mardi Gras Indians, preparing to parade. It was nice to walk around and get some pictures and then follow them for a few blocks. MrMan kept requesting more music and more feathers.



3. Sno-balls at Plum Street. Yum.



4. After a bit of down time at our place, dinner at my parents. Are you wondering how we had room? We had all sorts of local cuisine, in honor of the visiting relative: crawfish, two kinds of gumbo, jambalaya, grilled shrimp, an awesome salad involving roasted beets….

Yeah, I’m going to have to take a bit of a seafood vacation. But I think this weekend of fun was just what I needed.

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