Mad music for festivals - Happy Navroze!

From a very Parsee project manager:

May the cholesterol Devil never keep you from:

The eedas on your bheedas
May your plate be full of sali ma marghi
May you drink your fill and dance with glee
Cause we all celebrate being a Parsee

Do not to your doctor go
Asking if you can eat Malido
Refuse not malai na khaja
Instead, khai pi ne karo majha

Afraid of cholesterol do not be
Boldly devour your akooree
Heart attacks should not scare thee
Eat all you can, even some  jalebee

Wish all our friends and family

A Very Happy Navroze

and

All the Very Best for YZ 1380

May you and your family always be showered by the blessings of

Ahura Mazda

for the coming year and the years that follow

Amen

Mad music for festivals (Hanukkah)

This is hilarious. Apologies to my Jewish friends!
(From Prairie Home Companion/ Tom Lehrer, Garrison Keillor)

I'm spending Hanukkah, in Santa Monica,
Wearing sandals lighting candles by the sea.
I spent Shavuos, in East St. Louis,
A charming spot but clearly not the spot for me.

Those eastern winters, I can't endure 'em,
So every year I pack my gear
And come out here to Purim.

Rosh Hashona, I spend in Arizona,
And Yom Kippa, way down in Mississippa.
But in Decemba, there's just one place for me.
'Mid the California flora,
I'll be lighting my menorah.
Every California maid'll
Find me playing with a dreidl.
Santa Monica, spending Hanukkah by the sea

Boys and bicycles

What is it about bicycles and boys (and girls, but that's just not as alliterative, sorry!)? There's something magical about the moment you get on a bicycle for the first time - the promise of freedom to roam, constrained only by how strong your legs and lungs are. In some ways, so much purer than motorcycles and cars - no licenses or registrations, no certifications or credentials, just hop on and go!

from a friend - http://www.gomadnow.org/

I still remember vividly, my first bicycle - it was blue and heavy - with fenders and chain-covers, my sister and I shared it. I used to sit on it and try to balance myself by twisting and turning even while it was standing still, way before I learned to ride. And then one summer morning on the grassy stretches near India Gate - me perched on the bicycle with my father running alongside, his strong grip on my shoulder to steady me. Wobbling along, slowly learning to look ahead, pedal and balance myself all at the same time. Like learning to fly, I gathered speed, steadied myself and he let me go. It was a magical moment - my breath loud in my ears and my father's happy encouragements sending me onwards.
Life was different after that.

More recently, I was able to offer the experience to a friend from Russia, she'd never learned how to ride. For a few minutes then - I was the steadying hand, the encouraging voice, the reassurance that it was ok, she wasn't going to fall and that she should look up, and keep going. It was a lot of fun - as much for her as for me. She's using my bicycle to continue learning, and that's great - because it feels great to watch her go.

And then I got this picture from a friend halfway around the world in Tanzania, someone who gives bicycles to kids, and gets them to learn how to ride. You can see it there too - the same nervous exhilaration, that heady moment when someone finally finds balance and speeds up and everyone cheers. Its just a simple, beautiful thing. 

Evening scene from my window

Yes, it was a long hard Monday slog. But I returned home to find this right outside my window. Somehow so magical, so refreshing!

Morning sky from my study window

Just another wonderful winter morning view from my window. It is early, about 630am and the year still feels new. There is promise in the air. The trees reaching out to the sky, their branches a reminder of the buds waiting to burst forth in spring.