Wednesday, January 18, 2012

Good Samaritan

He said,
     "My name is Carl, and I'll take you anywhere you want to go."  

I turn and see her--
hands bare from forward propelling chair on wheels, she
uses her one good leg to spin around and heave backwards through the crowd,
low voice calling out to passerby's--
                    "Watch out!  Comin' Through!"

Dark skin stark against hard life,
wearing white, stained tee.
And I see her wince under the weight of Market Street:
the sound of cable cars and tourists,
as she narrowly misses the 49ers paraphernalia taking up
valuable sidewalk space.

And the crowd did all but part ways for her.
                    So still the struggle.

The hurried tourists skirt around her like they did the overturned 
     garbage can up the street.  
Some rush back to work after a quick lunch, 
     preoccupied with living.  
Others don't see--
     so much destitution becomes normal.

Still, a few just don't care.  Her business isn't their business.
Isn't my business.  
Pang in the heart.


Then he says it again:
                     "I'll take you anywhere you want to go." 

And the way he says it--it's he means it.
I stare and see then that he does mean it.
And he hasn't asked it as a question.

They shuffle a bit with his load.  
He asks if she minds holding his beer. 
She holds his Italian leather briefcase and 
his open bottle of anchor steam 
against her stained pants, 
and bandage-wrapped leg; 
                    smiles grateful at the man who offers such mercy.

And his young voice calls out to her above the noise of 4th Street. 
She is being asked her name.
She is being asked about her day. 
Shiny patent shoes scrape against 80-grit and 
sounds like the melody of mercy and 
 she talks
                     --on and on and on.

I can still hear her voice as they sail around the corner.


He: young, able, income-savvy.
She: old, unable, destitute.
Both: despite race, income, age, or even the proposed daily agenda--
                    joined for a moment; exchanging names.

 And for just a time, her hardship is gone and she feels like a person worth getting to know better. 
A Good Samaritan. For another, life laid down.

Carl walked a mile.
A mile which wasn't his.
And he made it his business.



Please visit Emily for more...

Snow Day 2012

It's a snow day here...finally...and it just reaffirmed some strong truths in our family:  
one certain person  in our family thinks everything was put on this earth for us to eat.  

Yes, Reesie.  I'm talkin' to you.


And Liv is forever our snow girl.  She was squealing and somersaulting and squealing and hopping and squealing and acting all sorts of crazy.  It was very difficult to get her to eat her breakfast.  Did I mention the squealing?

Holland has never loved the snow, or being cold.  But this year, there was not one sad face and that, my friends, is how we measure success in our family:

And Wieber girls are always interested and moving towards results.  Let's see how they did:

Here we have fancy, boa-wearin' Snow Lady:

Miss Snow Bunny: 

And I do believe Reesie has found a new friend.  

Eskimo kisses even! 

Now we are inside, 
finishing up with schoolwork and a cup of hot cocoa, 
and enjoying the quiet that blankets the earth after a snow fall.  

Happy day to you!  

Saturday, January 14, 2012

Sushi for Kids

Last night, Brian and I celebrated.  Well, the whole night was cause for celebration, actually, because it was our monthly "Family Camp-out Night" in which every single stitch of anything resembling a blanket is dragged downstairs and layered to make a most fluffy type of sleeping arrangement.

We watch movies and eat junk food and tell the girls that they really must sleep and laugh at Brian because he is being strangled by one certain girl who likes to sleep with her arm in a choke hold.

Our family campouts are exactly like real campouts....we sleep underneath the tall ceiling, gazing up at our ceiling fan..listening to the rush of water flowing into the fishtank, and to the [rancid] wild breathing of our sweet terrier, Chester beside us....yes, exactly like camping...except without the bugs, cold nights, scary outhouses, or that one rock that wasn't quite swept aside before the tent was placed on top of it.

But that wasn't the only cause for celebration.

You see, we were celebrating because every. single. member. of. The. Wieber. Family. now loves sushi.  Oh, to think of the family dinners in our future!!!

And not to brag (but, well, most certainly to brag because this is my spot to do so if I wish), but Brian makes the best sushi in the whole entire universe.  He has ruined every sushi restaurant for me, in fact, because it is very difficult to drop hard-earned (thanks, babe) dough on sushi that your husband truly could make better. And really, I'm not just being a flattering wife here.  I really mean it.  His sushi is seriously the best I've ever had.

So now, instead of making separate dinners for the girls on sushi nights, we will all eat together!  In the past, I have baked salmon or done something simple for the girls.  And then Brian always offers them a bite.  The girls have gone nuts over the smoked salmon, and Liv absolutely DEVOURS the nori (which to me tastes like crinkled fish skin....gross!), and they all have taken a liking to plain sushi rice.  But last night, the girls ate sushi the way grown-ups eat sushi!  See?

By the way, the chopsticks Holland is using have been WONDERFUL!

If you look closely at the above picture, you will see swollen eyes, and the unmistakable blush of a sweet girl who has gotten frustrated with her lack of chopstick skills.  She decided that an 8-year-old is too old for chopstick aids, and so tried to eat sushi the adult way.  She likes to catch on to new things rather quickly.

But I concur.  It is hard to eat sushi with chopsticks.

Right, Reesie?

Here she gives up and just shoves it into her mouth. (Her chopstick is more like a stick with an appetizer fork on the end....I have no recollection of where we got it, but it's been great for the kids!)

So today, we celebrated their newfound love for sushi (all night long, the girls were saying, "Thanks, dad, for the sushi!  And even our toddler was walking around saying, Thanks, Dad, Shushi!).

Yes, today we celebrated by eating PBJ sushi.  (Why, yes, that is a peach in place of the soy sauce and wasabi!)

This is a very simple, kid-friendly faux-sushi for the girls to enjoy.  I first smashed a piece of soft, whole wheat bread to make a very smooth "wrapper".  Then I put a thick line of chunky peanut butter (or what about nutella, or cashew, or almond butter?) and jam down the middle.  Then, I rolled up and laid the seam down touching the plate.  Then, cut into pieces.

This was another opportunity to practice chopsticks, and to have fun!

Liv is grinning here because she is using her adult chopsticks much better today.  She can pick up a new hobby in such little time.  Boy, I wish I were like that!

If my mom were the one making this sushi for the kid-me, she would have made marshmallow creme/peanut butter faux sushi because,

"Yes, she was THAT fun."

Now, my mind is swirling of the different combos I'll be making my kids in the near future....

cream cheese and cucumber

goat cheese, spinach, and ham

marshmallow and peanut butter ;o)

any other ideas??


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