The entrance area of our place is blocked with a pile of luggage- the huge suitcase and an assortment of old, torn bags my father donated for the extra stuff. Clothes, new and old, dried goods, mementos of the trip to Iran. Somebody needs to start unpacking. That somebody is me. But right now, I feel as if my body has been injected with some drug, and I am drifting. It doesn’t seem realistically possible that this huge pile of Iranian stuff  can be removed from the kitchen and living room floor and organized away. I need a fairy godmother. Or at least a wand.

School and work will start day after tomorrow.

The Golden Boy keeps stating that he likes Iran better than Halifax. Then he asks me which one I like best. I can’t answer.

He states he wants a big computer “like aunt”, and he doesn’t like playing on his farty laptop.

He states he doesn’t want to go to farty school.

He states he wants to live in Iran.

I wonder whether it is worth explaining (again and again) that if he lived in Iran, he would have to go to school too, and he wouldn’t be spending all his time playing video games with his aunt and uncle. I lack the energy to do so, and his statements remain unanswered, unchallenged. I console myself that this is a good educational technique- probably the best.

I have learned to download TV shows and film, and even as I type, huge chunks of the princess’s current to-watch show are being transported to her laptop. I wonder what I would like to download for myself, but I don’t know. In the old days, I loved watching M*A*S*H, Poirot, Moonlighting, Picket Fences… But now there seems to be nothing I really want to watch. However, I refuse to feel sorry for myself on this account.

It is so silent here. That other house was so so noisy. The noise continued until the small hours of the morning, until the children collapsed. Here, the quiet envelopes and embraces.

I reread my blog post of yesterday. It was meant to be funny and incisive, making The Gentle Reader snort with derisive laughter. Instead, it sounds just petty, mean, and woefully uninformed about music. I can hear us chanting “you can go HARD or you can go HOME!” in Dubai.

Ah yes. I forgot. This is what this post was originally about- rolling about big light green eyes and actressing and all that.

photo credits:



  1. FoXy

    This post was great; except that I dont agree with the title at all; Amanda Seyfried is wayyyyyyyy prettier than Niki Karimi; actually not even comparable

  2. ُShe really looks like Mahtab Keramati
    like peas in a pod.

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