Friday afternoon as I realised we only have two weekends to complete the Progress Reports, I had to forgo Merlot and the remote in favour of the Trillium! Thus, the weekend was studious and today is Monday, Monday..... and it's grey and it's raining! Nonetheless, I have a story to tell you.
The phrase "Thank God" (Khodaro-Shokr, in Farsi) is one of the most commonly used phrases in my culture, especially in my family. Every time my father, bless his soul, left the dinner table, he would say "Khodaro-Shokr." Every time he heard good news, he would say "Khodaro-Shokr." I'm sure every time he went to sleep, he would thank god as well.
My mother on the other hand, bless her heart, has somehow managed to obtain the exclusive rights to "complaining." This Sunday, in our 25-minute phone conversation (Paris-Toronto) she complained about her health, the neighbour's dog, the weather, her friends, the corruption in the French government, the collapse of economy in Greece (why the latter affects her, I have no idea!), my brother who never calls and my sister who never picks up the phone. Finally after 20 minutes she ran out of steam and asked "So, how are you doing?" As I opened my mouth to grumble about having spent my whole weekend writing Reports, she cut me short: "Go thank God you have a job!" "Go thank God" is my mother's spin on gratitude. She acknowledges the virtue, but decided long ago to appoint me as her ambassador.
Whenever somebody asks me what I was doing in a somewhat arranged, somewhat unhappy, somewhat abusive marriage for 17 years, "Thanking God!" I reply.
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