Chill

In the midst of my meditation & research on migraines, mental illness [health?] and moxie, I pause to think of the blessings in my life.

For example: Mama et Papa and the loving home they make for me, walks in the neighborhood, dinner guests such as Amy,Peter & JPEG, a fine & diverse home library, & etc.
But what could be better than....

a personal 1992 4-door Toyota Corolla?

What more conducive to dog-happiness than tooling down the highway, on the way to nowhere, warm breezes ruffling my ears and rural Georgia yielding up it most secret treasures?

Note in the Toyota photo the stickers on the bumper. To the right, an artifact evoking wistful memories of my 3-weeks visit to Berlin as the wall came crumbling [literally] down.

But, on the left, the mark of ownership: a picture of a poodle, my name inscribed underneath.

Truly, the Toyota Corolla is the best car in the world & the best of the best resides in my garage.

If any of you, my loyal friends & fans, have car stories that can top mine, please use the comments section at the end of this entry.

[Any Vespa owners? You're also invited to share tales of Vespa adventures. And see photo of Amu (uncle in farsi) Hassan Aragh below. He kindly treated Mama to a ride on this fabulous machine (car in farsi) And may I recommend the film, Caro Diario.]

Amu Hassan Aragh, 1930s Vespa

Mama facebooks

In the past, Mama and I spent our days together pleasantly, watching Law & Order (the original is the best) or Maigret, Perry Mason or Inspector Morse DVDs, reading, walking outdoors, or just puttering around the house.

Ah, for the good old days.

In fact, my dear friend Lucy was the inadvertant cause of the demise of our long lovely days together. Lucy's Mama, Melinda, invited mine to be her facebook friend. Many had previously invited Mama; she steadfastly refused to reply. Until Melinda's invitation. And such is Mama's respect for Melinda, that she was unable to resist returning a resounding Yes.

Now Mama is facebook addicted. She turned facebook into a verb [i.e. facebooking, facebooked...]

She has spent hours creating her profile, joining groups, contacting long lost friends, opening photo albums. Granted, as far as the last is concerned, mine was the first album and has, as I recall, the greatest number of pictures. Her albums include those dedicated to: family, former graduate students, colleague-friends, other friends, my friends, Grady at Oxford 2004, Grady at Oxford 2005, etc. If the list isn't yet endless, there's every indication that her collection of albums will continue to grow at an alarming rate. She proceeds more gingerly with groups; but one established group had no wall entries (wall! what?) nor any pictures until Mama joined.

Furthermore, as a result of Mama's direct and indirect instigation, many more friends have accepted invitations and they in turn are connecting with their long lost friends. Even Papa has (reluctantly) succumbed. Even, Grandpere!

I seem to have been relegated to 2nd class status. I watch from my computer room bed (one of my 3 beds in our home) and wait, hoping for some slight recognition, even a mere glimmer of remembrance.

I find it ironic that Mama is reading an Agatha Christie novel just now that centers around a dead character: Rosemary, for remembrance.

Loyal fans and friends, please send your special messages across time & space in your hopes that Mama's sanity and my pleasurable days will return soon. [you may notice how plaintive I look in the photo above.

Photographer: my turn

As I pen [a metaphor] this, several important entries are in process [a term I learned from Mama, often used in academia for dubious purposes].

However, springtime's in the air in Athens, GA, with highs in the upper 70s & plenty of pollen and bugs to suit nobody's taste.

Thus I explain my yearning to conquer [figure of speech?] expression through the graphic arts. First up: photography.

Here's Mama in my first attempt at portraiture.

How patient she is, what an even temper she possesses! For she allowed me to: [1] use her digital camera, [2] publish this, my first photo ever.

I like to think of this entry as an Ode to Springtime, that season of new beginnings.

And the shot of me [above & self-shot] as paean to the Persian new year, 1386.

NoRuz Mobarak

VIPs: Close to Home

The "close to home" of today's title is less than exact. In the spirit of my previous entry, here I pay tribute to the VIPs in my home: Mama et Papa.

All too often I have exposed their shortcomings [plentiful perhaps], and yet that's a defect that all creatures share.

Yes, my loft space is tiny & only sparingly furnished. [for a size comparision between my loft & the Roushanzamir house, see entry July 28, 2006] True, I'm served 2 meals per day [they eat--at least--three]. My collar is not gem-studded, nor is my name tag either gold or platinum.

However:

It is they who saved me from the hard work & deprivation of life on an Idaho farm towards which I seemed to be headed. [I'd almost rather be beheaded]

As the picture above amply illustrates [shot 1 month after I arrived in the Roushanzamir family], Mama comforted me in my infancy when I felt frightened & alone. [One not apocryphal story: In my initial terror, I feared to leave Mama's arms and thus she lost 10 lbs. during my first 3 days in my new home unable as she was to prepare or eat food.] Papa too was, from the very first, a commited [if permissive] caregiver.

Papa spoils me rotten. I adore him & he's simply wonderful. The nicest guy in town. He encourages treats before breakfast. Allows me to chew on his sock & shoes. Lets me drag him along on walks. I stay up as late as I want & he walks me as early as I choose to awaken each day. In short he give me free reign & indulges me in the most endearing way.

Scattered throughout my blog are numerous photos of Papa [only 1 or 2 of the stricter Mama]. [for example, see July 4 & 30, 2006, August 1, 2006, January 18, 2007; for Papa & Grandmere Manijeh see July 8, 2006; also search for Papa shown sneaking me treats; for Papa with Mama, see July 9, 2006] So for this entry, I've selected a picture of Papa visiting Trinity College, Oxford. [his company, questionable]

And finally, although not the slickest or most current of photos, here I share for the first time one my personal favorites.

Stitch in Time

Pauvre Mama!

She sliced her little finger on 12/06 & 2 stitches were taken.

As you may know, although I am the sole creative force behind the MercuryMurphy blog, Mama turns on the computer and sets me up on my chair. [For more about my creative process, including the recipe for innovation-inducing libations, see entry of November 25, 2006.]

Thus there will be a slight delay before my next posting.

In the meantime, feel free to review some of my earlier entries.

I suggest the series of mystery reviews [October 2006], musings on media interviews with Andy Lester [by Chris Matthews], Jerry Seinfeld, and Superman [September 2006], informative essays about global artifacts & pictures of me as a baby [August 2006], and specifics about a dog's life in the Roushanzamir family [July 2006; entry, July 28, a view of my loft].

For another pleasant read, click "view my complete profile" located at the end of "About Me" to the right of your screen.

Remember: blogs invite comments.

Click on "comments" at the end of each entry to record your own.

Til later, my good friends & fans,

Mercury Murphy Roushanzamir/M-squared

Post Script: Mama's suggestion: "go to BBC-America web site for days & times during the week when you can watch the Time Lords of Galifrey program Dr. Who; watch him travel through space & time in his Tardis [time and relative dimensions in space machine--see photos of outside & inside below]," she says.

Cher Mama

Wishing You A Happy Birthday Today.

Mercury's Prediction: Many More Returns of the Felicitous Day.

I Love You Dearly.

Je t'aime, Mama!

from your darling Mercury

November, Mercury and the Roushanzamir Family

November is an especially dangerous month in the Roushanzamir family. Whilst, never does my Mama prefer even numbers to odd, nor major keys to minor, the dawn of November exaggerates her preferences. Of course November is her Favorite Month. See the picture to your right for Mama's November Look.

I trace the special relevance of November to the undoubted fact that Mama's birthday is November 21st. [That's 3 x 7 -- both odd numbers, both historically lucky numbers across cultures, she tells me]

Mama disdains Halloween [as do I] disapproving by its colonization [see, entry October 31, 2006] but she loves her birthday. And the keys to satisfying her birthday pleasures are as follows. No surprises desired. She expects to be feted, borne magnificent gifts by many admirers, to be served champaigne and caviar. Later in the evening, perhaps thin cucumber and gently smoked salmon sandwiches with appropriate garnishes. And later still, perhaps Benedictine or creme de methne depending, she informs me, on the weather.

Believe me this is no joke. So in the Roushanzamir household Papa and I tred gently in November, doing our very best to gratify Mama's whims, not only on November 21st, but on every day leading up to that Day of Days and every November day thereafter.

[Note: Papa and I love the Thanksgiving Day holiday, viewed as a respite since whenever that august holiday falls, Mama, who also approves of that holiday, does the cooking.]