Summer Streets

NYC Summer Streets is another reason why I love New York in the summer time. Every year for three weekends in August the City shuts down Park Avenue from 72nd Street all the way down to the Brooklyn Bridge. This means no cars! The avenue is instead surrendered to bicyclists, tricyclists, unicyclists (seriously) roller bladers, skateboarders, runners, walkers, young people, old people, children, pets, you name it. Riding down the middle of the street surrounded by all these active people on a beautiful summer day with no cars in site, is like living in an alternate reality. My favorite is when the light turns red, and everybody stops to let the cars cross through. When the light turns green, it's like the Tour de France. I put my head down and pedal as fast as I can to get in the lead.

Este and I were feeling so good, breathing in the fresh air and getting some much-needed excerise. Our downfall came when we hit the Whole Foods-sponsored picnic on block 25. Free food! We dumped our bikes to the side and pushed toddlers and grandmas out of the way to get in line for the free lemon sorbet, cantaloupe salad, yogurt, cheese, iced coffee, carrots, Cliff bars, and smoothies. Really, how harmful can it be if the food is healthy and you're wearing Spandex? Sufficiently stuffed, we had to walk our bikes out of there to give the food some time to digest.

A half block later, we found a free outdoor Zumba class. Young girls were suggestively swinging their butts from side to side and working up a sweat. I wanted to get back to the biking, but Este naturally claimed he needed more time to digest and that this was a good place to take another break.

So maybe it wasn't the greatest workout, but we had a fun time and enjoyed all the festivities. I'm planning to buy some blinders for Este (the kind they give horses) so hopefully next weekend we can make it all the way to the Brooklyn Bridge!

The Hangover

You know it was a good party when several days go by and you are still thinking about the good times you had. You feel fulfilled and are completely content staying home for the rest of the week. You look at pictures and share stories with friends. And after a few days or weeks, you start planning for the next crazy night out. At least that's how it's always been for me.

So that should explain to you why I haven't blogged for many months. I was still recovering from the wedding! Planning a wedding is a full-time job, and for a year, the event was constantly in the back of my mind. And when the big day finally came around, it did not disappoint. In fact, it was the greatest night of my life! Hence my need to detox and recuperate.

I didn't realize just how much time I've spent being a bum, until I was telling a friend the other day that I hadn't worked out since before the wedding. I am just giving myself a little break, I said. But what began as a well-earned treat to myself (a break from the gym, from writing, from organizing the gifts and photos) is now nothing but a way of life. I've read that one in ten brides experience the post-wedding blues, a natural outcome to spending so much time planning for one day. My situation is more like the post-wedding retreat. I am using 2010 to relax and enjoy the married life! Which brings me to statistic number 2- studies show that people who get married are twice as likely to become obese than those who are just dating.

So in an effort to not "let myself go", I'm writing again, and I've created a little group called Blog Watchers to help me stay on track. Shout out to my friend Jamie who just started her Island Girl-Concrete Jungle blog, and to Nitasha and Kat who have recently started writing in their blogs again too. Together, we can do this!

Note: In case you're wondering, I will start my gym schedule in a couple weeks, after I have successfully reinstituted my writing schedule. Don't want to take on too much and risk a relapse!

Memories Part II

6. When it came time to do the traditional garter and throwing of the bouquet, I realized I didn't have a mini bouquet to toss to the single women of the group. As Este made a show of throwing the garter, I frantically went around looking for some options. My eyes zeroed in on one of the centerpieces. It will have to do, I thought. So... complete with soil and all, I launched the centerpiece at my guests and turned around just in time to see Aria's hand go up to catch the flowers. (Don't ask me why he was even there to begin with.) At the moment his fist closed around the centerpiece, the arrangement exploded in the air and dirt rained down on everyone around him. Aria shrugged his shoulders and handed what was left of the centerpiece to my cousin Mahsa.
Mahsa took a seat as Justin prepared to put the garter that he caught on her leg. Now, I am not sure what the protocol is, but I'm pretty positive he was not supposed to slide the garter up her leg with his mouth. I tried to stop him and tell him that that action was reserved for the bride and groom, but I think Justin was enjoying himself too much to listen or even care. Poor Mahsa!


7. It's funny how quickly something fun can turn scary. When the last song was over, my mom asked Este and I to sit on two chairs and had all the guys carry us out to the club for the after party. We sat down and awkwardly rose above the crowd, feeling like an Egyptian king and queen.
"To The Club!" "To The Club!" "To The Club!" My fist pumped with the rhythm of our slaves' chant. "Yeah! Faster!" I said as I motioned an imaginary whip.
Then, I don't know how it happened, but someone (my guess is Borzou) had the brilliant idea to change the chant.
"In The Pool!" "In The Pool!" "In The Pool!" And just like that, my royal fantasy turned into visions of a soaking wet wedding dress, mascara running in black streaks down my face, and my hair a soggy rat's nest on top of my head. NOOOO! They can't be serious!
As we made our way closer and closer to the water, I realized just how serious they were. I thrashed my arms about and grabbed and twisted as many ears as I could. "Don't do this. Put us down now!" I pleaded with my brother and tried to poke Dara in the eye, but no one would listen. I called out to Este to stop them, but he was the one chanting the loudest.

And then, just as the blue water came into view, I saw an angel with curly brown ringlets and hazel eyes run up to the front of the procession and issue out a final directive: Enough.

No questions asked- Este and I came straight down and the guys dispersed.
I owe Sepideh one big hug for saving us that night.

8. I vaguely remember all the guys linked arms at the after party and started doing leg kicks. I wish I knew what song would make someone want to do this but maybe it's something you do when you are so happy you feel the need to kick your legs eye-level in a chorus line with your friends. I dunno. I had to take a picture of this.



9. I wish the weirdness would have ended with the leg kicks, but after all the dancing we decided to head down to the beach. We left the club and joined my mother, Aryan, Goli Kaviani, Susan, both Mehrans and Kamran Nikseresht by the water. (Forgive me if I left anyone out, my memories of that late night are spotty!) In those calming moments by the sea, some of us passed out on the chairs and others hummed distant songs from their youth. Goli, ever the life of the party, started doing cartwheels in the sand. Susan, a bona fide yogi, led a stretching and meditating session. And everyone else just emptied minds and cleansed souls with a series of "Ohmmmms..."
Naturally, the OHMs became OH Snaps. (Don't ask me why.) Ajay stood up and took his place as conductor of the Oh Snap Chorus. We would all start very low at first "ohhhh" then Ajay would bring his arms up to fever pitch.
"ohhhhh HHHHHHH HHHHHHHH....."
We'd all look at him in desperation as the last breath escaped from our lungs.
When he finally brought his hands down, our "SNAP!" would ring and echo into the night.
We did this several times.

10. After laying out in the sun all day, we decided to head back to our rooms and get ready for dinner. I took one last look at the ocean and noticed a couple on a private photo shoot with the resort photographer. I nudged Carly to watch, because things were getting hot and heavy. The man and woman were rolling in the sand on top of each other as the tide came in and the photographer was clicking away to capture the romance. Out of nowhere I see a lady in a pink bathing suit walk up to the couple. I did a double take because not only did she stay in the shot, she got closer and started to pose with--and on top--of them. The other reason for the double take was that the woman looked familiar.
"Is that....LILI?!?!" Yes, yes it sure was.



11. I will cherish memories of my grandma and grandpa enjoying themselves on this trip. They may not always have the facts right...(Babajoon had a long conversation with his seat mate on the flight over and was bragging about going to his granddaughter's wedding. "She lives in New York and works in publishing, and I'm so proud of her" he said. "Oh, publishing! Which company?" "Flamingo."
They may not know exactly what's going on all the time....(During our tango, Babajoon asked, "Who hired the professional dancers?")
But they laughed, danced, swam, ate big buffet meals, drank alcohol and freshly squeezed pineapple juice with equal gusto, and participated wholeheartedly in all of the festivities.
If I were invisible, I'd follow them around all day and learn as much as I could, because if anyone knows what it means to live a full life and find happiness with the one you love- it is Mommyjoon and Babajoon.



12. There are so many more memories that I'd like to record here, but now new memories are coming in and I don't want to lose those either. I must close the book on this chapter of my life when Este and I got engaged, planned a wedding and with the help of our parents, made it come true. This picture was taken after most of our guests had left, and Este and I were feeling post-wedding calm for the first time. Was it all a dream? Did we really just get married...on the beach...with 101 of our closest friends and family? YES and it was awesome.

One Month Ago...

One month ago this time, Este and I had just exchanged vows, and we were mingling with guests at the cocktail hour, munching on hors d'oeurves and sharing a cigar with friends as we all waited for the reception. Now with Northern Virginia under at least two feet of snow with more on the way and New York expecting a major winter storm with possible power outages, a month ago seems like a world away.

It was one of the greatest trips of my life and I could not have asked for a more perfect wedding. Already my mind has blurred all the good times together so instead of separate thoughts, I just get one overwhelmingly happy feeling every time I think back. We all have our own memories of the trip and wedding but these are the ones that will stay with me:

1. The Foroughi family was with us the entire flight down, and it was reassuring to have them there in case something happened. I was nervous about checking in my gown, losing my luggage, missing the transfer, etc. When we finally got settled in the shuttle to the hotel, with gown and luggage intact, I let out a sigh of relief. As if on cue, Kamran appeared with 4 el Presidente cervesas. Este and I clinked our bottles together and smiled. Our vacation and the rest of our lives had just begun...


2. Dancing till the morning hours, drinking nonstop, walking barefoot on the beach and ordering room service--we made every night count. We even had an impromptu bachelor and bachelorette party one night (the details of which I cannot share with you, but for the sake of recognizing them, I will say the Tooth Bump and Shrimp Fried Rice were two moments that made my bachelorette party awesome.)
Este and I put our arms around each other after reuniting at the disco and drunkenly made our way back to the room. What a crazy night! I thought. We partied hard and I felt rebellious as it was clear we were the last two people still awake at the resort. As I was thinking how we are such big party animals, the sound of my dad's laughter rose above a corner of the lobby.
"DAD?!?! What are you doing still up?!?"
"Heyyy...What do you mean? We are enjoying the night."
My dad was sitting around the table at 4 in the morning with a few of his buddies and several empty glasses of tequila in front of them. So much for me being hard core, I thought. My parents clearly have more partying in them than I ever will.
"If you guys are hungry, they are serving burgers and pizza at the lobby buffet."
"Thanks, Dad."


[Dad pictured here showing the chef a thing or two about flipping burgers.]

3. I woke up one morning to a throbbing in my left heel bone. Damn, must have been all the foot stomping I did on the dance floor the night before, I thought. But the pain kept getting worse the more I walked on it. A quick inspection revealed that I had a splinter in my foot. Can't be limping down the aisle! Help! I grabbed my mom and dad and we had an emergency splinter pulling session on their balcony. Could I have done this on my own? Probably. But there's nothing like being a baby sometimes and having your parents take care of things. My mom used a needle to dig out the splinter, and my dad held my hand through the process. Every time a wedding guest walked by, we would sit up straight, smile and wave like we were just sitting on the balcony having family time. Once they were out of sight, the emergency surgery would resume.


4. Feeling like a celebrity during the ceremony with all the crowds of paparazzi. Everyone looked HOT and famous, looking good in their dresses and suits, sporting perfect tans and Ray Bans. We were the main attraction on the beach that day. There was even a helicopter buzzing around. I was not anticipating the crowds of people who came to watch, but then again, this was no ordinary wedding. I could get used to this, I thought, as I walked down the red carpet towards my husband-to-be. If only I pronounced his name correctly when we exchanged vows!


5. My nerves were a jumbled mess the entire day of the wedding. Not because I was getting married, but because Este and I had a surprise tango planned for our first dance. Because no one knew about it, our practice time over the holidays was few and far between and not nearly enough to guarantee success. We had taken seven private lessons in the course of two months. One spin in particular had me sweating bullets. You see- 90% of the time I practiced this spin, I would spin out of control and fall on my face. This is one of the first moves of the dance, so if I fell, the entire dance would have been a disaster.
Before the reception, Este and I frantically practiced the dance in the room, and nothing went right. We considered trashing the dance completely but then realized we had no back up song. No tango- no first dance.
I guess this is it! We stepped out onto the dance floor. Everyone looked confused at my red dress and Este's all-black attire. Music comes on, and I am supposed to do a sexy walk towards him. My left foot slipped on the sandy dance floor and I stumbled. I heard a smirk from the audience, and I knew it was over. My worst nightmare had come true. I messed up and someone laughed at me. But then I put my hand on Este's shoulder for the first basic step, and I miraculously relaxed. The worst had happened, and I made up my mind to have fun. I've always wanted to learn how to do the tango, and here we were tearing up the dance floor. Now Este, spin me like you've never spun me before!



To be continued....

See You at the Beach!

It's officially crunch time as far as wedding planning goes, and I am filled with nervous excitement. Even if the wedding is a complete disaster, I know we will have a great time. With 105 of my closest friends and family vacationing with me in the Dominican Republic, what more could I ask for? This is going to be the trip of a lifetime!

My flight leaves at 9am tomorrow morning, and my mind is racing with all the things I learned when I last made the trip in November. Here are some helpful tips as you pack and get ready:

1. Bring a snack with you. The airlines don't serve any food and the airport food is mucho expensivo. The best free drink you can get on the flight is the Bloody Mary Mix. The best snack are the potato chips. They are only $4 and they pack a lot in each tube.

2. You will have to pay a $10 fee for a Visa when you get into the DR. Make sure you bring exact change.

3. Bring lots of singles for tipping! The service is very impressive and you will feel like a high roller.

4. You have to wear a bright orange bracelet at all times at the resort. If this bothers you, bring a nice bracelet to cover the orange for wedding pictures!

5. Men-- you will not be admitted to any of the resort restaurants without long pants. Make sure to pack a pair of kakhis and/or jeans.

6. Don't forget your passport!

7. DO NOT bring any wedding gifts with you to the DR!

The next time I write in my blog, the wedding will be in the past and this trip will be a memory. Let's take advantage of every moment together. I will be waiting for you on the beach!

Mini Freak Out

This is the beginning of my three week vacation from work and I can't help but think about my "home" routine which has been the same ever since I left for college. Being a total bum, getting my mom to cook all my favorite foods, complaining that the house is too cold, and yelling for an extra blanket when I know my parents are already in bed. I've been thinking: when I get married, can I still be a bum when I come home or do I have to help my parents with the cooking and cleaning? Can a married woman still crawl into bed with her parents in the morning? Or stay up late reminiscing with her little brother? More importantly, can I still laugh at fart jokes? Or be the one to start them? Just a thought.

What Happens at Bridal Showers

Now I know why so many girls love wedding planning and being engaged. It's like every day is your birthday! Everyone is constantly congratulating you and wishing you well. There are gifts up the wazoo and lots of champagne and celebrations. I've never had so much fun!

I've been especially spoiled by my bridesmaids. Sara and Tiba recently hosted a bridal shower for me, and they went all out with the decor, food, drinks, and games. Other than the general awkwardness of opening boxes of lingerie in front of Este's mom, the party was a hit and I was laughing the entire time. How much fun can 40 women have on a Saturday afternoon, you ask?

Well, for one thing, the games were insane. My favorite was the Get-the-Chili-Pepper-in-the-Bottle game. You have to admire the coordination and concentration required for this one. My aunt Nazanin (pictured here) was a contender, but Este's mom smashed the competition with her chili pepper skills, getting it in the bottle in less than 60 seconds!

Then there was the Last Chance to Kiss Este game. Newly engaged and blindfolded Tanaz Shahrzad walked up to my guy with confidence and surprised us all (mainly Sara) with her smooching prowess. Yeah...I'm going to keep an eye on that one...

With competitive tensions running high, we were all afraid to see what MC Tiba would ask of us next. Sitting in a circle, we had to pass around a teddy bear and kiss a body part on the bear. Harmless, right? BUT THEN Tiba took away the bear and said we had to kiss the person next to us on the same part we kissed the bear. And this is how it came to be. Full girl-on-girl action between Mrs. Perla and my grandma, who said she'd kiss the bear on the lips! Poor Mrs. Perla didn't know what hit her when my grandma grabbed her by the ears and pulled her into a big smackeroo. It was like a game of spin the bottle that had gone horribly wrong. And when it was over, Mrs. Perla, still dazed from what had just transpired, turned to me and had to kiss my feet! (To be nice, I smelled each one first and gave her the least stinky of the two.)

Before the shower, Este made a special request for me to look after his mom and make sure she has a good time. If only he knew...

Head Trips

When asked, "What does Ava like to do on the weekends?" as part of a survey at my bridal shower, 99% of guests answered: Sleep. I am not embarrassed to admit that this is indeed one of my most cherished hobbies. It's not just the chance to relax and replenish after a hard day's work, it's also a portal to limitless adventure. As you know, I read a lot and because of this, my dreams are quite involved with complex plots and multi-color dreamscapes. Sometimes I even have the ability to control my actions. For example, about a quarter of the way into the dream, I'll realize that the circumstances are too absurd to be real, so I'll go crazy and do things I wouldn't normally do in real life. My favorite was the time I played Quidditch with Harry Potter.

Lately though, instead of my usual action-packed exploits, I've been the victim of several nightmares having to do with the wedding. In one, I am walking down the aisle when I realize that I've forgotten to shower, brush my teeth, wear deordorant, do my hair or makeup. In another, I dream that the Dominican Republic is a total crap hole with glass littered all over the beach and beggars grabbing at your clothes. I also dreamed that we got Este's name wrong on the invitation. I was marrying a "Miguel" instead.

A new theory about the evolutionary function of nightmares is that the brain exposes you to scary scenarios during your sleep, so that the repeated experience desensitizes you, making you better able to handle your fear should it come true. So with images of crackheads and drug dealers fresh in my mind, I boarded the plane to the DR last week, hoping with all my heart that I wouldn't have to test my crisis coping mechanisms.

My parents and I had a wonderful time and were very happy with the resort. We met with the wedding coordinator, florist, DJ, head chef, and hotel manager to talk about how we could make the wedding the best that it could be, and I hope that you like what we have planned. In the interest of not creating too much hype, I am not going to tell you how good the food was or how your glass is never empty, but I will say that the sand was smooth and instead of beggars on the beach, there were topless European women. (If the wedding does not turn out to be all that I dreamed, then at least I'll know Este will be happy.)

Now all I dream about is the delicious feast that awaits America tomorrow night.
Happy Thanksgiving Everyone! and more importantly, Sweet Dreams!

And the winner is...

Thanks to everyone who RSVP'd on time! As promised, three lucky guests will receive a copy of the Fodor's Guide to the Dominican Republic. Drum roll please...

The first name out of the drawing is -- Justin KWONG! Come on up Justin!

Second is the lovely Foroughi Family.

And last but not least are the newlyweds, Kat and Hossein Golesorkhi, who will be spending their honeymoon in the DR with us. Let's have a nice round of applause for our winners and future tour guides!

Now on to more serious matters. I saw a very disturbing video on YouTube regarding airport security cameras. I want to post it here to give you fair warning. Stay away from beans before your flight!

Répondez, S'il Vous Plaît

Getting the invitations out in a timely manner was probably one of the more stressful aspects of wedding planning, but every anxious moment was worth it, because nothing is better than receiving the RSVP card. Every time I check the mailbox, there is a stack of little surprises waiting for me. Most people don't leave a return address, so before I open the envelope, I try to do some detective work to see if I can guess who it's from. A Northern Virginia postmark is most likely my family, New Yorkers are all friends and coworkers, cards from California are from Este's family. That narrows it down a bit. Then you have to see what sort of shape the card is in. If it was sealed with a big wet tongue, the guest probably has small children. When you hold it up to the light, you can get a gauge on the handwriting.

After I can no longer handle the anticipation, I take a letter opener and ever so slightly slip it under the fold and tear open. Then I take the card out and am instantly happy to find out that I guessed right, and then instantly sad that the person has checked an unequivocal Will Not Attend. But more often than not, the card is littered with happy faces and checks marked in the affirmative. "We are coming and arriving in Punta Cana on the 7th. Watch out!"

But the reason I'm writing you tonight is not to tell you how much I love opening RSVP cards and updating the guest list and documenting who's arriving when. No, I am writing because Este somehow loves this as much as I do. (But if you ask me, it's because he's noticed how much fun I'm having and wants to get in on the action. Like when someone's having ice cream and they are enjoying it so much you have to get some for yourself too.) Needless to say, this poses a serious threat to my RSVP card-opening ritual.

Every night for the past week, we've raced to get home and be the first to check mail. Este's even closed the lobby door on me so he could get to the mailbox first. We have damaged several cards and envelopes in the fight to be the one to open and see the contents. I have tried to pretend like I don't care, so maybe he'll lose interest but he's not buying it. One night, after arriving at the mailbox at the same time, all out of breath and panting, we open the mailbox to find nothing- not even a Papa John's coupon. It was the most depressing night of my life, but it offered a chance for us to talk and come to a compromise.

We made a deal: if one of us gets home first, he/she has to wait for the other to arrive. I am allowed one minute of detective work, Este gets to open the envelope, I get to pull the card out, and then we both look down at the same time.

Now I am getting nervous that the RSVP deadline is only 5 days away and it will all be over soon. Time is running out, and this 'compromise' is just not cutting it. I need to get my fix! So if you are reading this and want to help, please be a dear and cross out the address on the RSVP card and write: Penguin USA, 375 Hudson Street, New York. It'll come straight to my office and no one has to know a thing. I, for one, think it's high time we cut out the middle man. Who's with me?

Halloween in Retrospect

Prisoner of War and Hawaiian Girl (2000)




Vampire and Vampire Victim (2002)


Scary Skeleton Man and Gypsy (2004)




Little Red Riding Hood and Captain Jack Sparrow (2005)


Chef and Creepy Old Asian Man (2006)




Detective and Fairy (2008)




Flapper and Park Ranger (2009)

Bienvenido!

Hello There!

Thanks for checking out my blog. You are probably here because you just received your invitation and are curious to see what all the hype is about. Please make yourself at home. Show me some love and sign up to be a follower on the right of this post, leave comments, and come back every couple of weeks to make sure I haven't written anything bad about you. hehe

If you have not booked your tickets yet, please do so and kindly RSVP before November 10th. Make sure your passport does not expire before July 2010. If it does, you will not be allowed into the Dominican Republic and we will use your room as a storage place for wedding stuff and a place to hide from crazy family members. As an added incentive, I will send a free copy of the Fodor's Guide- Dominican Republic to three lucky families who are attending and who reply before November 10th.

Let the countdown begin! We have 2 months, 2 weeks and 5 days to go before haba haba ariba ariba andelay cha cha cha!

Si. Muy bueno.

Love,
Ava

School Daze

Now that Este's officially in graduate school mode with night classes and reams of reading, I am faced with hours of free time without a fiance to share it with. The first night by myself, I caught up with all the TV shows Este normally refuses to sit through (i.e. Gossip Girl and America's Next Top Model). The second night I did a girls only happy hour. In the interest of not going brain dead and not becoming a broke alcoholic, I decided to limit the amount of reality TV and drinking. So for the third night, I tried to be productive with my free time.

I went to the gym, went grocery shopping, made dinner, ate dinner, cleared the table, watched some TV, did my nails, trimmed the cat's nails, read, blogged, cleaned my room and picked my outfit for work, all in that order and with time to spare. It was the longest night of my life, and all the while Este was sitting at his desk engrossed in school work. "What are you reading about?" I asked him. Big mistake. He launched into a long lecture on the politics behind the Medicare Prescription Drug, Improvement, and Modernization Act which reminded me that I've been meaning to Swiffer the kitchen. Great idea!

Since I have at least two more years of this solitary life to go, I am making a list of enrichment activities for myself. Kat just started this amazing food blog on Iranian cooking called http://www.mimiskitchen.wordpress.com/, so I am definitely going to get my inner Julia Child on. I'm taking Spanish lessons to better flirt with the waitstaff at the Iberostar Bavaro. And I'm training Keesh to use the toilet and walk with a leash. Please don't hesitate to send me any of your suggestions, because...All work and no play make Ava a dull girl. All work and no play make Ava a dull girl. All work and no play make Ava a dull girl. All work and no play make Ava a dull girl. All work and no play make Ava a dull girl. All work and no play make Ava a dull girl. All work and no play make Ava a dull girl. All work and no play make Ava a dull girl. All work and no play make Ava a dull girl. All work and no play make Ava a dull girl. All work and no play make Ava a dull girl. All work and no play make Ava a dull girl. All work and no play make Ava a dull girl.

Power to the People

When I first heard that Ahmadinejad had won the Iranian elections in a landslide victory, and Iranians were challenging the results with nationwide protests, I didn't think much of it. It's no surprise that he would rig the election and that people are unhappy with him. But as the protests continued in larger numbers and became ever more violent, I started to follow the news more carefully along with the rest of the world.

As the days turned into weeks, the air seemed charged with possibility. Iranian households all over the world held their breaths. It's hard not to get caught up in too much wishful thinking. One can't help but think that the last time Iranians hit the streets in such a way, there was a total revolution with new leadership and government. Could it be that the people are repressed to such an extent that they would again risk life and limb for a change? The bloody footage all over the Internet suggests that this is so. And when I saw young 20-something Iranian women going up against fully-armed Basij militia for doing nothing more than voicing their discontent, I could not sit idol any longer.

I desperately want the experience of visiting a country where everyone looks familiar, speaks my Mother tongue, and shares my family's culture. When I went protesting with my mom in DC and New York, I felt a kinship with the crowd around me. We all have our reasons to fight for Iran. One of mine is for the opportunity to see the place my parents and grandparents once called home. That "free" Iran is a myth, but each person who protests against the current regime brings that myth closer to a reality- and that, however small, gives me hope.

*******
See if you can spot Arasb, Sepideh, Aryan, my Mom and Me in this video. (Hint: We appear around 3:29)

Goodbye 25

My twenty-fifth year was awesome, as it should be because my lucky number is five and five times five is 25. This was the year I resumed going to the gym, Este got into Columbia grad school, we set a date for the wedding, I started a new job and my first book there hit the bestseller list, I broke my habit of biting my nails (well, sort of), and we moved into a ballin' new apartment. There have been a lot of changes and for the first time since I moved to New York for college eight years ago, I can feel a new chapter beginning in my life. Bigger than a chapter--more like Part III. After all, 26 is 30 rounded up.

I can only hope that 26 is a better year than 25 and that each year gets better after that. So far, life is damn good and judging by the extent of partying during my birthday weekend, there are thousands (hundreds?) more good times to come. Cheers!


Pre-game in the apartment.


The party continues on the subway.




Partying it up at Alibi Lounge.


Whiffle ball at Central Park. Obviously too hungover to play an actual game, but at least we got a good team photo!

Complete Set

When I first got engaged there were two things I was most excited about: the cake tasting and the chance to hold a scanner and shoot everything in sight for a wedding registry shopping spree. I was practically giddy with excitement waking up this morning, knowing that today was the day to realize the second of my dreams.

The wedding registry lady equipped us with a scanner and a map of the store and then we were off! "This is what it must be like to be rich," I thought as we skipped our way through aisles of bed, baths and beyonds, scanning every single item that looked remotely like something grown up couples would have.

A 3-piece ice bucket set? Definitely. We like our drinks cold. Even outside the fridge.

A $100 waffle maker? Are you seriously asking me? SCAN!

And definitely scan the food scale. I want to be able to weigh everything I eat.

We requested a mahogany box to store the fancy flatware, and a bamboo tray to store the more casual flatware. And a heavy wooden block to support the 17-piece knife set. And that was all within the first five minutes.

After we scanned the 15th item, though, the giddiness started to wear off. As excited as we are for the 10-Cup Automatic Drip Krups Coffee Maker and the Deluxe Recycler Can, everything else is just stuff. And stuff that, when it comes down to it, we really don't need. I don't want Este and I to end up like the famous Collyer brothers, whose decaying bodies were found buried under more than a hundred tons of junk in their Fifth Avenue apartment.

I tried to convince myself that eventually, when we move into a house, we will need to fill it with all the items we requested and ideally we'd like those to be high quality and long lasting. But for now, we live in a Manhattan apartment with limited space and a limited budget. To ask my guests to get us two hundred-dollar Tempur-Pedic pillows in addition to the thousands of dollars they are spending to attend the wedding just seems plain wrong.

We decided to call it a day and head home. When we went to turn in our scanner, the sales lady squealed with delight and said that because we scanned $150-worth of Cuisinart, the company was going to send us a free measuring cup set. Do we want her to fill out the paperwork to receive the gift? Este looked at me with twinkling eyes. "Yes, please!"

It's a Boy!

There comes a point in life, between the ages of 25 and 30, when it seems like everyone is getting engaged and/or married. Seriously, Este and I have had a wedding to go to every four months in the past couple years, and now that we have our own wedding to plan it's like Wedding Overload. But I never would have guessed Baby Fever would rear its oversized head so soon. Don't get excited Mrs. Perla, I'm not talking about me and Este. It's everyone else! And I want to dedicate this post to saying congratulations to the future Moms and Dads of the next generation: Matt and Jean, Alison and Kurt, Parisa and Marco, Jennifer and Will, Shahab and Elaine-- I cannot wait to meet your little honey bunches of oats and squish their cheeks!

All this baby talk has got me thinking. Many people have come up to me, gushing about how excited they are to see what me and Este's babies are going to look like. They assume the Persian/Filipino combo makes for gorgeous offspring, although if you ask me, if they are not beautiful, they are going to be butt ugly. It's one or the other, so I rather not find out any time soon.

But out of curiosity, I went to a site called MakeMeBabies.com and uploaded a pic of me and one of Este. The site takes features from both 'parents' and combines them to create a composite of what your children would look like. You can even choose to morph with a celebrity. We ended up with a boy and chose to name him Este, Jr. after his handsome father. The baby has Este's forehead, but other than that, looks nothing like either of us. Not beautiful but not quite ugly either, just...different. While we will not be entering him in any Cutest Baby contest, a paternity test might not be such a bad idea...

http://www.makemebabies.com/viewbaby.php?bid=baby_13_512956

On another note- The National Geographic special, "The Human Family Tree" airs tonight at 9PM EST, and I finally renewed my passport! You should find out when yours expires. It could take up to 2 months to get a new passport, so now is the time to take care of it. Click here for more info: http://www.usps.com/passport/welcome.htm.

Ain't Nothin But Mammals

One day last summer, Este and I were happily making our way through a street fair in Astoria. We saw these huge cameras and lights set up and a banner for the National Geographic Channel, so we stopped to take a look.

They were conducting research for a study that claims that all humans descended from a group of African ancestors and about 60,000 years ago, started migrating out of Africa to different parts of the world. As they settled in different regions and climates, their characteristic features evolved to adapt to their environment, creating the Asian, European, and North American people, etc.

The Genographic Project is a five-year mission to better understand the migratory history of the human species. They took DNA samples from cheek cells from hundreds of thousands of participants around the world, including me and Este! Astoria is the most diverse community in the world, so they were hoping to get representatives from all parts.

It's weird to think that just by taking a cotton swab to your cheek, you can trace the origins of your family. We waited a few months for the results to come back, and sure enough, there was a little map with a clear red line from Africa to the Middle East for me. Apparently, my people were one of the laziest, because we traveled the least distance from Africa. No comment on the ones that didn't even bother to leave! Este's map had a line from Africa to China, which is interesting because he is an eighth Chinese. Now, if we had chosen to trace his mother's side, the line would most likely have led to Europe.

We were asked to meet in Astoria Park once again to share our reactions. They had all of us stand together in Africa and start walking to our respective origins. It was quite sad as I had to say goodbye to Este early and watch him walk all the way to "China." I was surrounded with all these Greeks and Italians and one Iraqi and about a quarter mile away, there stood Este with about 3 Asians, hopelessly waving a yellow flag at me. He was clearly not a part of the cool club, even in caveman days!

The special is called The Human Family Tree and it will air on the National Geographic Channel on August 30th at 9PM. Set your DVR, because Este and I were watching TV and he randomly started screaming, "That was me! That was me! Rewind it! Rewind it!" There is about .005 seconds where Este is in front of the camera waving a flag with 120 other people. Regretfully, I was behind a 4,000-pound gorilla and was blocked from the camera the entire time. I was pretty disappointed, but the next day we got an email from National Geographic, and lo and behold, Este and I are front and center, scrubbing our cheeks with cotton swabs. As usual, it's not the best picture of me, given the rabbit teeth and all. (Note to Self: Don't open your mouth too wide at the wedding.) But it's pretty flattering that they chose us to be the "face" of the promotional campaign. See for yourself! The pic looks photo-shopped, so I am going to give you a direct link to the site so you know it's real. We are the 3rd picture in the series. If you want, you can bring your Human Family Tree DVD to the wedding, and we will sign it for you- free of charge.
https://genographic.nationalgeographic.com/genographic/index.html

Move It or Lose It

Moving Day is tomorrow, and most of our stuff is packed away in boxes lining the living room walls. I look at this mighty fortress of cardboard with pride, because it took us 3 full weeks of blood, sweat and tears to get to this point.

I learned some new things about Este during this time, which I will list below in order of importance.

1. Este Does Not Like to Procrastinate
He thrives on errands. If there is a bill to pay or if we're running low on toilet paper, he makes it his immediate priority. I, on the other hand, like to take a few days to really get to know the task and like to do things only when it becomes urgent (i.e. resorting to Kleenex when out of toilet paper, then resorting to napkins when out of Kleenex). I like deadlines and do well at the last minute, so if this move were up to me, we'd still have cups and plates to drink and eat from.

2. He is a Moving Nazi
Because of Trait #1, not a second was wasted. We packed all weekends and every night. If I took a break to sit down, Este would drag me back up again and put me to work. Apparently, he would say he's not hungry to delay our dinner time because, and I quote, "You work better when you have food as an incentive."

Este learned a new thing about me too. While I was taking a few moments to catch my breath on the couch and relax after a grueling 20 minutes of hard-core packing, he looked at me all forlorn and disappointed and said, "So you're never going to be the kind of girl to run a marathon, huh?"

3. Este is a Pack Rat
He literally has hundreds of t-shirts, the kind that you buy at souvenir shops. He never wears these but refuses to donate or throw them away. I tried to get him to divide the clothes into a keep pile and a trash pile, but he ended up with three separate piles: those that are meaningful, those that are too nice to get dirty, and those that are good for painting/yard work. Despite the fact that we don't have a yard and don't plan to paint, we kept all the shirts.

One day, I come across a tin box in one of his drawers. Este immediately snatches it from me and packs it away.
"What was that?"
"Nothing."
I grab the box. He grabs it from me. We have a tug of war.
"Este, what is in here?"
"NOTHING!" He has a look of sheer terror in his eyes, and I start to get scared too. With deep breaths, I say, "I'm not going to be mad. Whatever is in here-- we can get through it. Just let me see what's in the box."
I slowly open the box, expecting oh I don't know...love letters to another girl...dirty magazines...drugs... anything but what was actually in the box:
Hundreds of ball point pens.

Mosquitoes, Roaches and Flies, Oh My!

We are not allowed to put an AC unit in one of the bedroom windows, because we can't block the fire escape, so we keep the window open a crack to create a cool cross breeze in hopes that some air from the AC in the living room will also make it through. This has been the set up for a couple years now, and it has worked out well. Lately, however, I wake up in the middle of the night with an intense itch up and down my legs. Half awake and half asleep, I scratch and scratch until I no longer care and pass out with exhaustion. In the morning, I ask Este if he got any bug bites during the night and am amazed to find out that he is unscathed and that mine have disappeared completely. Not even a red spot to indicate that the itchy hell was real. I resolved myself to the fact that I was probably going insane.

The other night, I hear Este call from the kitchen: "Babe? Keesh is acting really weird. Hey, Keesh. What are you looking at? What is it?" This- followed by a high-pitched wheezing sound coming from the future man of the house. I run to the kitchen and find the cat frozen in place and staring at a spot on the wall. Este, a few feet back, with his face scrunched up in a painful expression and still wheezing with fright. On the wall in front of them was the biggest cockroach I have ever seen, rubbing its antennas together. I scream, the cat jumps up and bolts for the bedroom, and we take refuge on top of the couch.
"Este, you can't let this thing get away. You have to kill it, tonight," I tell him.
"But it's got wings!"
I'm very proud that Este did muster enough courage to squash the 2-pound cockroach, a.k.a. the creature from the Black Lagoon, a.k.a. Lucifer's offspring. But little did we know, our night was just beginning.

2:30AM: Este jumps out of bed. "Ahhhh! Mosquitoes are eating me alive!" It was like music to my ears. I was not the only one on the menu! We turn on the lights and take stock of the place. Sure enough, there are two mosquitoes flitting about. But we are groggy and the little black bodies are hard to follow. Este takes a few swats with a rolled up newspaper and declares the mission accomplished.

3:00AM: "#*$%@!!!!!!"
It was a full on war. Us against the bugs of Astoria. I try to think of a combat strategy. "Este, we need a 360 degree formation."
"Roger that."
Armed with a newspaper and a pillow, we stand back-to-back and start turning around in a circle, so we can both fight and keep look out at the same time. It was awesome. But unfortunately, no dead mosquitoes.

Now we have abandoned the offensive strategy and focus on defensive measures: long johns and mosquito repellent. Este's reasoning being that the mosquitoes will die if we can starve them to death, but it seems that the two-week human feast has left the bugs with enough nutrition to last them a long time. And the window that we use for fresh air and cool breezes? It is closed.
God, I can't wait to move!