Well. Here it is. Shahar Shambeh Suri--where Iranians the world over jump over fire to symbolize the end of the year and ring in the new in a Zoroastian ritual. Couple of things you should know. I've never done this before in memory, even though I was born in Teheran. My husband is English. We don't have a garden, a fire pit or a barbecue. This is very, very homemade. In any case, we rocked it. This one's for you, mom and dad.

Snow Day!

Most Californians can't say that they have woken up to many snow days in their lives. Sure, we went to bed with snow covering the ground and a healthy spatter of it falling from the sky. I mentally picked out my Monday morning ensemble, starting with a layer of black thermals and boots with the most traction. I assumed I've have a wintry whale of a commute getting in to work and opted to get an early start--if I could peel myself out of my warm duvet-coon. I never suspected I'd wake up to this:




Do you know what's most unusual about this photo? Besides the gorgeous indigo morning sky enveloping the cool white of the snow? There are no buses. No cars. No commuters hustling on their own two feet to get to work. A quick confirmation with the Transport for London website and yes, it's what we suspected. All bus services have been suspended and our tube line out for the count. I was told this is what we call a snow day. A snow day! No, Monday; hello, Snowday!
This is nearly worth the whole winter!




















For the first time ever, I was dressed and out of the house by 8am without having to go to work, take an exam, catch a flight or a train. Naturally, hubbs was surprised and amazed.


Wandering around, looking for an open Starbucks, London was transformed. The smallest details were suddenly aglow with magic. The trees, fences, churches, cars--all made beautiful.

Still, admiring the scenery is not quite an invitation for a snowball fight. Or so I would have assumed. I should have remembered what they say about assuming and you and me.

I really must learn the native customs of this country.

Peace Out, 2008!

What follows below is an account of 2008. But first, we must get there. Bear with me.

I don't know what it is exactly about trains, but there is nothing like a train journey to send me into thought. Maybe it's the ability to sit facing backwards on trains, allowing you the most literal experience of looking back at the paths you've taken. It's almost as if you are caught in time and space, held in stasis while speeding towards and away from past and future. Perhaps that's why most travellers feel sick at the thought of travelling backwards--the metaphorical aspect dizzies and overwhelms. Not me. I prefer to see from whence I've come and this is probably pretty telling about my character, but I think it's easier to take in the landscape when looking back. Looking forward the landscape comes upon you too fast and does not allow for any kind of cognition, re- or otherwise. Or maybe it's growing up with my sister, who has always referred to travel time as 'quiet reflective time'. Such an effective kibosh on chit-chat put me in the habit of carrying a notebook and something to read, in addition to developing my ability to kip off almost anywhere.

In any case, I was on a train. It was early evening New Year's Eve and hubbs and I were travelling back from a dark and icy Paris. Dark and icy Paris, I've come to realise, is a stunning postcard. The third dimension loses something of its charm. It's hard to appreciate the fantastic time you may be having if every other thought is: COLD.

But, home. We were on our way home. On this train journey, we had the very best of Paris accompanying us: Camembert, jambon, a baguette and Bordeaux. And central heating. Heaven. This, with the train and the date, led to a retrospective look back on the year that was 2008.

I present you with what we will carry on from 2008:

• Woke sick and battered on New Year's Day, watched Bedknobs and Broomsticks and vowed not again.
• Like Samson and Austin Powers, I realised exactly where my mojo resides and realised too late.
• The Clouse House welcomed the first, little T the Tall.
• Frank the Goldfish came to us and left us mourning.
• Circumstances conclusively proved that yes, all's fair in love and war. Realised that disillusionment can be the coming of all ages.
• Were mistaken for Greeks, independently of each other: taciturn and scruffy for hubbs and brown, brown, brown for me.
• Founded the year of Hot and Sour Soup and Thai Salad.
• Turned 29. No comment.
• Finally became a cabin boy.
• The Academy's Sweetheart got married and reunited, it was very good.
• Mingled among the Welsh and the Walshes. Got lost on the Welsh coastline. Discovered a level of hell: the family-themed holiday resort.
• Camped in a tent, on an air mattress in late September, in Southeast England. Translation: burr. And we're not talking Aaron Burr.
• Both became Seniors at what we do, proving that we do it best (apparently).
• Hubbs drove Ford Mustang. Will never be the same.
• Had first dinner party--for 11 guests. Eschewed baby steps.
• The Bridges go legal. California meets Kansas.
• Travelled to Greece, US (twice for wifey), Tenby and Paris.

Retrospection complete, I turned to my third favourite thing to do on trains. A fuzzy wine-fueled nap--the best kind, I tell you.

Here comes 2009. Let's look sharp, shall we?