Pretty Mercury, happy Papa

Double Dog Darling

Here, a photograph of some of my favorite people: Sophie & Pam Kohn, grandmere Manijeh Kalantari, and my own Papa, Saeid Roushanzamir. Missing from this photo are my many Iranian relatives and (few) American relatives, Lily Kohn, and obviously my Maman who took the picture. I, of course, am at the Center.

People are frail and flawed creatures. Tender of heart, strict of practice (exercise, discipline, affection). And through it all, sanguine creatures who view optimisim as a virtue.

Perhaps because of these characteristics, Maman has created a new "pet name" for me: double dog darling.

It references a 1950s childhood practice: the double dog dare. The double dog dare is issued in an attempt to up the ante; it's not as commanding as the triple dog dare which (perhaps) exceeds the limits of polite behaviour.

In any case, calling me the double dog darling is Maman's meek attempt at humor. Yes, I'm a darling. Yes, I'm double the darlingness of most doggies. So I accept the nick-name even as I mock its origin. After all, does a dog with the name of Mercury Murphy Roushanzamir really need a pet name?

BTW, apologies to those of you await my entries eagerly and with baited breath. Writers block has held me within its viscious grip. But my thoughts are always with you (each & every one of you) as are my hopes that you're celebrating life and loving it.

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.

Papa['s] Plants

Every other day Papa endures the early morning humidity to water the dogwoods [beautiful name] he has planted this year & last. Which would be fine were it not for the fact that he imposes on me as a sort of jobbing gardener. Don't get me wrong. I love well-tended gardens. The parks of Paris, the home gardens in England including the famous, beautiful garden at Blenheim Palace, the manicured walkways in Williamsburg. But as for tending them myself! As Mama would say, "I don't think so." Here I include 2 pictures of Papa's dogwoods (there are 4 in all), planted & lovingly (by Papa if not by me) attended, for your pleasure.

[& please follow the links above for more information/pictures of Paris parks, English gardens, Blenheim Palace & colonial Williamsburg.]



And, by the way, a 75-year old heat record was broken in Athens, GA yesterday when the thermometer topped 102-degrees [F]/ 38.888 Celsius. That combined with the high humidity-- can anyone blame me for rejecting yard work in toto?

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.