tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-84367825969010323532024-03-12T21:44:05.634-05:00ENANOSLIVOKris Livovichhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12328942615612193100noreply@blogger.comBlogger780125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8436782596901032353.post-12965194522776842782012-07-15T22:05:00.002-05:002012-07-15T22:20:15.238-05:00movedI've been toying with moving enanoslivo to wordpress for a while now and just decided to bite the bullet and do it. Things aren't perfect, but when will they ever be? <br />
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Find us here: <a href="http://enanoslivo.wordpress.com/" target="_blank"> http://enanoslivo.wordpress.com/</a>Kris Livovichhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12328942615612193100noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8436782596901032353.post-32849507742113793462012-07-13T14:05:00.002-05:002012-07-13T14:05:54.304-05:00Guess what?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
The <a href="http://enanoslivo.blogspot.com/2012/07/five-on-four.html" target="_blank">Deli has been wearing underwear </a>for whole days now. It started with Great Aunt Becky sending him boxes full of birthday goodness. There were toys and t-shirts, a slip-n-slide, a Superman book, but more importantly there was underwear! That Aunt Becky knows what a kid wants.</div>
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Transformer underwear! Superman underwear! Scooby Doo underwear! So many kinds, enough for every day of the week!!<br />
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It's all underwear, all the time around here now. Unless it isn't. Del reserves the right to miss a day or two. Or twelve. But for now, the undies are on. </div>
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Shorts or pants, however, are optional.</div>
<br />Kris Livovichhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12328942615612193100noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8436782596901032353.post-50794851011063923032012-07-10T22:33:00.002-05:002012-07-10T22:33:57.564-05:00preparing for future disappointment<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Mikey: So how long are the rest of the cousins here?</div>
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When does everyone leave?</div>
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Me: On Sunday, baby. </div>
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Mikey: Even Abuela? They ALL leave on Sunday?</div>
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Me: Yes, boy. Everyone leaves on Sunday.</div>
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Mikey: Oh. Great.</div>
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Then we will have to go back to our usual boring life.</div>
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Sorry kiddo.</div>
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<br />Kris Livovichhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12328942615612193100noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8436782596901032353.post-2792083548249615572012-07-08T15:47:00.002-05:002012-07-08T15:47:53.663-05:00Five on Four<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Until they learn to read calendars, my kids are hopelessly confused as to when their birthdays happen. We have them hoodwinked into thinking the day of their birth is whatever day we decide to have a party. Elia used to tell people, "Last year, my birthday was April 2nd, this year it is April 12th, and I don't know when it will be next year." See? Confused.</div>
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So the Deli turned 5 on the Fourth of July, even though technically his birthday is July 10th. He doesn't know better, and he's pretty happy with the idea that we all gather to celebrate him with his very own red, white and blue cake. Funny how every year his birthday is a red, white and blue theme...</div>
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His birthday was extra special this year because we had so many family members from out of town visiting, from my side and the husband's side. Yes, we still have family here. My two sisters' families have left, much to our sadness - there were lots of teary children saying good by and giving big hugs when the separate departures happened. Now we have one week left with my brother's family and my mom. We are all tired but happy to have so much time together. </div>
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Deli had a good birthday, surrounded by loved ones. Now that he's a big five year old, he's planning on learning his letters good, starting to read, putting his shoes on the right feet and maybe, just maybe, wearing underwear. No promises, though.</div>
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<br /></div>Kris Livovichhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12328942615612193100noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8436782596901032353.post-16767731852187644552012-06-27T23:13:00.000-05:002012-06-27T23:13:29.171-05:00is it possible?To cram all of summer into two weeks?<br />
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Because we have been doing our very best, and are off to a pretty good start.</div>
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Yesterday the drive-in (a unique form of happy American torture), today the beach.</div>
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We haven't even seen ALL of the cousins yet.</div>
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We've eaten popsicles, popsicles, watermelon, corn on the cob, popsicles, ice cream, and popsicles.</div>
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We will have lived an entire summer in two weeks. I think come July 15th the only thing left for us to do will be to pack all our summer stuff away and pull out the books for school. Too much summer is bad for you, don't you know. Cramming all of summer into two weeks might just be bordering on really bad for you. </div>
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I'm happy, I'm exhausted. Full of joy and appreciation for seeing almost all of my family all in one place. </div>
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We are missing the big boys and Uncle Jeff, and missing them quite a bit. We can't complain though, as they have an amazing opportunity. They are at <a href="http://www.creationfest.com/ne" target="_blank">Creation 2012</a>, playing on the <a href="http://www.creationfest.com/ne/lineup#indie" target="_blank">indie stage </a>tomorrow! So cool. I know their parents are so proud of them, as are all of we. Even though we miss them, we are happy they are doing something they love and doing it so well. If you can't make it to Creation 2012, then just listen to <a href="http://www.3shadesofblue.org/" target="_blank">3 Shades of Blue here,</a> and of course buy their music! </div>
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And now it is off to sleep, followed by cramming in more family and more summer tomorrow.</div>
<br />Kris Livovichhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12328942615612193100noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8436782596901032353.post-67757292493239481032012-06-26T07:25:00.003-05:002012-06-26T16:24:37.231-05:00The cousins are here!<div style="text-align: center;">
And we're having tons of fun!!</div>
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<a href="http://makeagif.com/ucKgey" title="ucKgey on Make A Gif, Animated Gifs"><img alt="ucKgey on Make A Gif, Animated Gifs" height="300" src="http://makeagif.com/media/6-26-2012/ucKgey.gif" width="400" /></a><br />
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make <a href="http://makeagif.com/" title="make a gif">animated gifs</a> like this at MakeAGif</div>Kris Livovichhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12328942615612193100noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8436782596901032353.post-67760439361026344092012-06-20T22:00:00.001-05:002012-06-20T22:01:01.111-05:00Take your motion sickness pills now<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">Harry!</span> Harry!<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"> Harry!</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"> Harry!</span></div>
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That is all.</div>
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<br />Kris Livovichhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12328942615612193100noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8436782596901032353.post-30374531249816889702012-06-17T22:54:00.001-05:002012-06-17T22:54:33.905-05:00These are a few of my favorite people<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Abuela arrived on Thursday, and we are so happy to have her here. Aside from just being my Mom, she is such a wonderful person to have around. We were fortunate this year to be able to celebrate her birthday on Friday. I won't spill her age here, but let's just say she was a war baby and the kids think she might be on the verge of sudden death. I don't know, she seems the same sweet Mama I've always had!</div>
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We celebrated her day by getting some DQ and recreating a picture we took almost 5 years ago at the watershed. The top picture is us now, in case you can't tell, and the bottom picture is us three days after the Del Monster was born. <span style="font-size: x-small;"> </span> </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Yes. It is the same husband.</td></tr>
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We are so very happy to have Mom here. She is encouraging, and helpful, and kind, and fun, and sweet, and loves us so much, and prays for us so so so so much. There are so many things we can do with our lives, but being a blessing to your children ranks right there at the top. And she is definitely a blessing to us. We love you Mama, and happy birthday!!</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">What is it about having a newborn that makes you feel invincible, like you should be out doing rather than in sleeping? What was wrong with me?</td></tr>
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It felt especially bittersweet to me to have Mom here right around Father's Day because I have been feeling the loss of my Dad. We don't have him for grown up Dad things. I had him for my childhood, for my stupid teenage years and a couple of early 20's years. In none, <i>none, </i>of those years could you have said I was an adult and that we had an adult relationship. I had my head up my keister for many of those years and he was sick for some of those years, and it would be good to know him now that I am an adult. </div>
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I would like to see him with my kiddos, loving on them. I would like to ask him questions about life as a grown up. I would like to ask him questions about the difficulties we experience and how to go through them. I would like to see him have a relationship with the husband. Mostly, I would just like to have him here. </div>
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I know some things he would say if he was here. He would tell me to talk to my mother, he would tell us the best things we can do is read our Bibles, pray, and love God, and he would tell us we need more ice cream. </div>
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We can do all of those.</div>
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We've been spending time with one of our favorite people in Mexico, and we spent today with our favorite people in the Region. Mike's folks came went to church with us today; here are the good looking men, posing for a Father's Day picture. </div>
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Happy Father's Day, Dad! Happy Father's Day, Husband! </div>
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Aren't they all good looking? </div>
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If you didn't read my last post, I just need to tell you that I do, indeed, have the best in-laws. Since it's Father's Day, we will focus on the Dad-in-law, but they are both wonderful. Mike's dad is endlessly encouraging, unfailingly supportive and would give us everything he has if we need it. He is a father with such a large amount of love for his children that you cannot escape it. His love not only encompasses his kids, but it envelops the kid's spouses and children into it as well. We cannot escape! And we don't want to. </div>
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I am grateful that Mike has his father for all the reasons I miss mine. </div>
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We also spent the day celebrating these two of my favorite people.</div>
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They have been married 62 years today. </div>
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Sixty two years of commitment, of love, of praying together, loving together and going through good and bad together. A faithful couple. </div>
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Can you believe it? Can you just tell that they are the cutest together? </div>
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It's 10:41 pm right now, so I'd imagine they are just finishing watching the Cubs game and maybe eating one last bowl of ice cream. That is, if we didn't wear them out with all our partying and Slip N' Sliding today. Wait - I can hear Grandma saying, "I'm never too tired for the Cubbies!" </div>
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Happy Anniversary you two! </div>
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So how's that for a post that drags you all over the map? I couldn't figure out how to get it all in. So much happiness, sadness, pride, hope, and love wrapped in one weekend. Our little family is so surrounded by love that we cannot help but do our very best to make all of our favorite people proud. By staying faithful to my job as a mother and spouse, or the husband working his hardest to shepherd his little family into an uncertain future, or raising children who will hopefully celebrate their 62nd anniversaries. Because of the love we are given and the love we come from. </div>
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"It is not from ourselves that we learn to be better than we are." - Wendell Berry </div>
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<br />Kris Livovichhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12328942615612193100noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8436782596901032353.post-18643805035312606602012-06-14T08:05:00.000-05:002012-06-14T08:05:17.562-05:00Warning, long post ahead<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Those of you who don't see me in real life may or may not know that pretty soon almost all of my side of the family is coming by for a visit. Those of you who see me often in real life may be so tired of this subject that you just want to hurl. Sorry. I'm gonna talk about it some more. So my mom comes tomorrow, then my brother and his family, then my sister and most of her family, then my sister and her family. Lots of people. And I am so super duper excited I can't even think. Really. </div>
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Every time I start to plan food or sleeping arrangements or activities or anything my mind shuts off and I wander the house aimlessly or play long rounds of computer games. In other words I make great use of my time. But I am just incredibly excited to have everyone here, and the kids are quadruply excited. Like, every single day asking how soon the cousins are coming excited. In 11 days. That's how soon. </div>
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But let's get back to being overwhelmed.</div>
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So Mike's parents called last Saturday and offered to help us get ready for guests. They had time on their hands and apparently nothing to do at home because they wanted to come to <i>our</i> filthy house and help us. We said yes eagerly. Side note - do you know I have the best in-laws ever? We can have a contest if you want but I will win. Just letting you know now. </div>
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I really wanted help getting my kitchen under control. It <strike>has been feeling</strike> has been totally gross for a while now, and it would be oh so nice to start a stint of feeding guests with a clean kitchen. Mom L. was game and we got to it. Dad L. helped Mike with things in the backyard, building a chicken coop and I don't know what else, I was in the kitchen.</div>
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So Mom L. and I decided to start things backwards. So backwards. We got out a card table and put it in the middle of the kitchen. Mom L. began taking items out of the cupboards, wiping them off and placing them on the table - the idea being that we'd clean out the cupboard then I would put things back in. It was a great idea, and I liked having the card table in the kitchen rather than placing everything on the floor for us to trip on as we did our work. Great idea that is, and here is the backwards part, until one of the legs on the card table gave out and all of the items from my pantry slid off and landed on the kitchen floor. The tile kitchen floor. Meeting the glass items from the pantry. </div>
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I take full responsibility for this. I didn't fully extend the leg and it just gave. Arg. </div>
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So! Mess! At least three kinds of vinegar, a big jar of salsa, the sugar bowl, the soy sauce, and all of their shattered glass containers ended up in a big pile under all the cans on the floor. It was pretty exciting. And the exact opposite of cleaning. </div>
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But once we got it all scooped up and wiped off we continued without a hitch to wipe down that sticky kitchen. Mom L. was a cleaning machine, continuing to go at messes I would have quickly given up on. Which brings me to the stove.</div>
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Do you see the beauty of that gleaming white stove? I know for those of you who regularly clean your stoves, this picture is underwhelming, but for me? This is a-ma-zing. My stove has not looked like this since the day we bought our house. You think I exaggerate? NO. I do not. I tell you the truth in all it's shameful glory. My stove is generally covered in black, cooked on grease and messes. Even when I do "clean" it, the effort is half hearted at best. When my Mom visits, she cleans it for me, but since that's only once a year or so, even she hasn't gotten it this clean. When Mom L. got the stove to (my idea) of gleaming, she called Dad L. in to finish the job. He took out a butter knife and without even scraping the paint, he chipped off every last bit of burned on food. And he didn't even make fun of my cleaning skills. Neither of them did. A-ma-zing.</div>
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And then before they left, Grandpa took the kids to "the gas station" and somehow ended up at Kmart stocking them up on popsicles and ice cream sandwiches and root beer. The amount of frozen treats that walked in my front door would have made the Ice Cream Grandpa proud. Of course then Ice Cream Grandpa would have had to run to the store to pick up the things that "got forgotten". Man, if my kids had two grandpas their teeth would rot right out of their heads.</div>
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<span style="text-align: left;">Wonderful enough, right? But yesterday, Dad L. sent over a brand new swing for the kiddos! Ours broke a while ago, forcing Mikey to use it like a Tarzan vine. You notice how I said forcing. No forcing, he is never forced to act like a wild man. Because he is a wild man. Sigh. Another post for another day...</span></div>
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Mike put up the swing and the kids spent the afternoon alternating between swinging and twisting each other up so they spun in circles faster and faster and faster. At least a couple times I had a little boy come in the kitchen to tell me with a sour look, "Mom. I just threw up in the backyard..... I think I need a popsicle." </div>
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The longest post ever to tell you that we are almost ready for family to come and it's because family helped us out here. If that's not love I don't know what is. Or maybe they were just horrified at my dirty house. I prefer to think of it as love. Horrified Love. We inspire that sometime, that's ok. </div>
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Thanks Mom and Dad L. for all your help! </div>
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<br />Kris Livovichhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12328942615612193100noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8436782596901032353.post-8792684764217099362012-06-10T22:42:00.001-05:002012-06-10T22:42:31.064-05:00Bathing Beauties<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
The first time one of the chicks flopped down in the sun and fluffed up their feathers I freaked out just a little bit. I was pretty sure chickie was falling over dead with some type of bird illness which would then kill all the rest of us. I briefly considered having everyone run inside to scrub their hands and maybe even change clothes, when the other ladies flopped into the sun as well. They sat there making happy little chirpy noises and I realized all was well. Laying out, I think that's what kids these days call it. I call it the beginnings of crispy fried chicken. Sort of a pre-fry, if you will.</div>
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We've been doing plenty of laying out as well. Did you ever lay yourself down on the hot cement after jumping into a cold pool? You swim until you're all shivery and blue in the lips, then you wrap yourself in a towel and lay down on that hot, dry pool surround, and soak up the heat radiating from the cement. Just the thought of it makes me feel all warm and happy. I taught the kids this special warm up trick, and they have been using it every chance they get. </div>
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You'll be surprised to find out that we've been hitting the Y pool every chance we get. </div>
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What a difference a year makes with children. Last year Del wouldn't get in the pool, even if I was holding him. If I decided to make him get in he would cry and shiver and in general be so miserable that I stopped making him. Last year he spent all his time walking about the edges, occasionally dipping a toe in the water. Last year Mikey's chin was j u s t out of the water in the shallow end. Last year the girls were not allowed in the middle end without Mom. </div>
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This year the Deli jumps into the water. He revels in showing me how well he swims. He calls it swimming, I call it drowning slowly. This year Josie swims like a fish, Elia isn't afraid to get her head underwater, and Mikey is making strides with his doggy paddle. </div>
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All a reminder that nothing stays the same. Just when I despair that my children will never love the water like I did as a child, the calendar pages turn and they do! Just when I think everything will stay the same nothing does. </div>
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Also, baby in a box!</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiO6LNsaAuJy6lYPT3xw0_V0hRlvXO0IbJXyBwn_Yla80gyzW1JTZ02gswgmHiRcD0DBfRfDUk2TLMtC6tiWccbfldC-1etKvAK4L8IspdX7j4EeSvYNrPs4_yT-6Y3rAEdmJKIFKPavls2/s1600/IMG_3936.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiO6LNsaAuJy6lYPT3xw0_V0hRlvXO0IbJXyBwn_Yla80gyzW1JTZ02gswgmHiRcD0DBfRfDUk2TLMtC6tiWccbfldC-1etKvAK4L8IspdX7j4EeSvYNrPs4_yT-6Y3rAEdmJKIFKPavls2/s320/IMG_3936.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I knit the child-size ninja for Deli. I think it turned out pretty cute. One coming for Mikey soon...ish.<br /></td></tr>
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<br />Kris Livovichhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12328942615612193100noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8436782596901032353.post-15099871877982067712012-06-08T09:52:00.003-05:002012-06-08T09:52:42.394-05:00Found<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0K9DWuIQN6yMUH-xLwV-JqWcakg2bjP4itWc_L9F16bdKjzyo6KdKKxCzJ50uqtzKmycJ9l-HGH0Avg6x4ozxvJpNGaIOkF-qObygk80QcjifO7VbebKGtNkXNMQPy_09e3mObS-45k1p/s1600/IMG_3961.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0K9DWuIQN6yMUH-xLwV-JqWcakg2bjP4itWc_L9F16bdKjzyo6KdKKxCzJ50uqtzKmycJ9l-HGH0Avg6x4ozxvJpNGaIOkF-qObygk80QcjifO7VbebKGtNkXNMQPy_09e3mObS-45k1p/s320/IMG_3961.jpg" width="240" /></a> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCjde-cdB2MbsrT3LIlsSzLb4md8PqFOiylC4x5WGbnyJglTYHhBsEI7C8DQxtGXz0qR8kFYbryvwlDhobJWOhis2ne49aUOTA8JNdZFwiy88-3uy5Z-1ShJBVY9aPm9zUyuvSINFYu_jE/s1600/IMG_3960.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCjde-cdB2MbsrT3LIlsSzLb4md8PqFOiylC4x5WGbnyJglTYHhBsEI7C8DQxtGXz0qR8kFYbryvwlDhobJWOhis2ne49aUOTA8JNdZFwiy88-3uy5Z-1ShJBVY9aPm9zUyuvSINFYu_jE/s320/IMG_3960.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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When I asked who was playing with the camera,</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLeimRjKdn6g9SUeOdTa-buWc8nBw5kJcHQN1XbTa-OIcQ04vAkPmIVcex0ELK7EIjr2g8llA3iTQ5A_lGn7sM6TuJ_leHeUr58wSmP0Ma7mw9oD3XMNeulbYPWwdAHDXTm2yAqk3HryA1/s1600/IMG_3959.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLeimRjKdn6g9SUeOdTa-buWc8nBw5kJcHQN1XbTa-OIcQ04vAkPmIVcex0ELK7EIjr2g8llA3iTQ5A_lGn7sM6TuJ_leHeUr58wSmP0Ma7mw9oD3XMNeulbYPWwdAHDXTm2yAqk3HryA1/s320/IMG_3959.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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he innocently replied,</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioJoiiTq3TQd8wY3BAlPkm3FLLuqmeY1okhIdiFUlQ393GQMzZEcr_b4IbEzxOqvr37W88nuogUaZzM0txXJIrm8zQJk302HTdDUWgY28ysY2UhvFMOYmQI1FsGBK6KxXMPgGd6pzgDeoO/s1600/IMG_3958.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioJoiiTq3TQd8wY3BAlPkm3FLLuqmeY1okhIdiFUlQ393GQMzZEcr_b4IbEzxOqvr37W88nuogUaZzM0txXJIrm8zQJk302HTdDUWgY28ysY2UhvFMOYmQI1FsGBK6KxXMPgGd6pzgDeoO/s320/IMG_3958.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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"Maybe Josie?"</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeQVV4Q8h5a8U9fTejTEeuNK7Deb0hau7XuPePfKxHsQG6Qp4tuUSmUUZqqjvZn-_9Ict3XiEJ1f6toExfA9qlUpIETPt1Jk-9Tbk2jJpgPRWMNzRYwRY1NQ14LITn8kjPLn4Xg8Rd9EWH/s1600/IMG_3957.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeQVV4Q8h5a8U9fTejTEeuNK7Deb0hau7XuPePfKxHsQG6Qp4tuUSmUUZqqjvZn-_9Ict3XiEJ1f6toExfA9qlUpIETPt1Jk-9Tbk2jJpgPRWMNzRYwRY1NQ14LITn8kjPLn4Xg8Rd9EWH/s320/IMG_3957.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<br />Kris Livovichhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12328942615612193100noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8436782596901032353.post-23683969510721373932012-06-07T10:49:00.000-05:002012-06-07T10:49:08.923-05:00Summer breakfasts<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjY-BxtNSR85tPCYgCZlyUbChEyXcmlNC0TnRBh25DsRWSi45_wxeYqm3uTJE61mUlaqdj4pegPKluK1Sp_w5eb-DPL66vHSpoCyYsq3P3KPkrB4ndpUJ6NHtjFhGx2f8cdUt8SYTlP6LRS/s1600/IMG_3941.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjY-BxtNSR85tPCYgCZlyUbChEyXcmlNC0TnRBh25DsRWSi45_wxeYqm3uTJE61mUlaqdj4pegPKluK1Sp_w5eb-DPL66vHSpoCyYsq3P3KPkrB4ndpUJ6NHtjFhGx2f8cdUt8SYTlP6LRS/s320/IMG_3941.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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Since for the all too brief moment we don't have anywhere to go in the mornings or anything important to do. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgh4nnnNIZf_d9rqTtEVk1SPLMOUVJdn9etZdmNHZdfNZbBv954KZ0bJ_B_OVnj1l20I-NdNoyMq_KNUxTOiNqdYwFPxZnTT504rvgBZLsmS6VH06PmalgaAI3B7Dyfer9f8QGX6eva78zd/s1600/IMG_3943.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgh4nnnNIZf_d9rqTtEVk1SPLMOUVJdn9etZdmNHZdfNZbBv954KZ0bJ_B_OVnj1l20I-NdNoyMq_KNUxTOiNqdYwFPxZnTT504rvgBZLsmS6VH06PmalgaAI3B7Dyfer9f8QGX6eva78zd/s320/IMG_3943.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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Since checking out<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Peoples-Pops-Recipes-Brooklyns-Coolest/dp/160774211X" target="_blank"> People's Pops</a> at the library re-invigorated my love of all fruit popsicles.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFGPN_jfmGB9jfd8kNFF0Vr7J5xpy5M5P_bDmR2ySnVrj16-jGlLrWS8nbC8ckMERHYFJwtqz1RyL4pNQzhHj6CYvS7HCiRdAWW-EKjoaIKTKxh-DbbFgsmCZKeCYo3jxZ5uE8A1DtmVwO/s1600/IMG_3964.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFGPN_jfmGB9jfd8kNFF0Vr7J5xpy5M5P_bDmR2ySnVrj16-jGlLrWS8nbC8ckMERHYFJwtqz1RyL4pNQzhHj6CYvS7HCiRdAWW-EKjoaIKTKxh-DbbFgsmCZKeCYo3jxZ5uE8A1DtmVwO/s320/IMG_3964.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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Since we have strawberries, basil and balsamic vinegar.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWhfltSOtkNS76UN22S3vt9HIa-4mTHScfGNycQ4YPqA3UqnyF1LuiW8XMmZYxcwqGM-iI96eSteOrNpre5GGYOXmVAiqnIEgZTv6lNQ9b2OLKHZCNDEK5Bycq5CY_yrZVKR0ocv8ylvqL/s1600/IMG_3967.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWhfltSOtkNS76UN22S3vt9HIa-4mTHScfGNycQ4YPqA3UqnyF1LuiW8XMmZYxcwqGM-iI96eSteOrNpre5GGYOXmVAiqnIEgZTv6lNQ9b2OLKHZCNDEK5Bycq5CY_yrZVKR0ocv8ylvqL/s320/IMG_3967.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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We have decided to have breakfast with toast, popsicles, and chickens.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgi_W0Z_cd0eKOTBhYpShSmuIaigEZEBJsaG4LHJg8kwZnhqJwIJDzLVXQ7up_Bk6AUYxrh4YWA576ryc2rx-89rVD2wfLPKJ68LQu2131zCFgAN_hDsQBLa3zoMwMhrcGCRD0XZkebub89/s1600/IMG_3971.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgi_W0Z_cd0eKOTBhYpShSmuIaigEZEBJsaG4LHJg8kwZnhqJwIJDzLVXQ7up_Bk6AUYxrh4YWA576ryc2rx-89rVD2wfLPKJ68LQu2131zCFgAN_hDsQBLa3zoMwMhrcGCRD0XZkebub89/s320/IMG_3971.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />Kris Livovichhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12328942615612193100noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8436782596901032353.post-73082711375894357152012-05-30T07:38:00.000-05:002012-05-30T07:38:36.485-05:00Time for the Beach!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
The weather is warm, the sand is hot, the water is still bone-chillingly cold. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0Geip7_-_YoHAzQc_AlCG2M745GyeK2SZFW0ytVV3FQQ7KtfUKRCE0uhk6Eqa-vuApxrx40eheEXAZglpPmwH97PnQsxWgeViQEsFvQE891pmaomV8aTdM5BTSN4i3O3400Iw3Ma96tq8/s1600/IMG_3908.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0Geip7_-_YoHAzQc_AlCG2M745GyeK2SZFW0ytVV3FQQ7KtfUKRCE0uhk6Eqa-vuApxrx40eheEXAZglpPmwH97PnQsxWgeViQEsFvQE891pmaomV8aTdM5BTSN4i3O3400Iw3Ma96tq8/s320/IMG_3908.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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But yesterday was a perfect day for the beach.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdMkcV_t_mBYu5i5pHq9SvBhmzK5RYVk-6Mm6Tdlt2pZ41QzyQYsYsTKOVR-nmh_VytD_RZ9f_rcgbiRELsXYcohzDiolYnOFUkUfeaoMaWMWjNt36MytJlOPA7k8k_vNX5D4poS8uDM6l/s1600/IMG_3909.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdMkcV_t_mBYu5i5pHq9SvBhmzK5RYVk-6Mm6Tdlt2pZ41QzyQYsYsTKOVR-nmh_VytD_RZ9f_rcgbiRELsXYcohzDiolYnOFUkUfeaoMaWMWjNt36MytJlOPA7k8k_vNX5D4poS8uDM6l/s320/IMG_3909.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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Best part of the day? You see the girl in the pink suit?</div>
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Last one out of the water. </div>
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Elia? Last one out? </div>
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It's a Christmas miracle!</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5GKZXLySplsvvsmM_DEkWSl0VksKh7qCNQ8HotDwd1mP_W99Sc03o9jIPlu7_ZD7XKeVLGD2QgRckmBtsKSkDFFS7wOCr_wCJwDgLyJA5sCmYo9nJflX3ISeKwK4sakGza3tnXyFbIVmU/s1600/IMG_3920.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5GKZXLySplsvvsmM_DEkWSl0VksKh7qCNQ8HotDwd1mP_W99Sc03o9jIPlu7_ZD7XKeVLGD2QgRckmBtsKSkDFFS7wOCr_wCJwDgLyJA5sCmYo9nJflX3ISeKwK4sakGza3tnXyFbIVmU/s320/IMG_3920.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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We are about to make a new summer list, I suppose we still need to keep "go to the beach" on it. Anything else we need to add?</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxAiEOhoeyKIat13ksianb_YuGxlkfHb-MIch0ncp1M-P05DtmUy1xsQV8f7rARdCINKYvasFLBBSeVb4Yjf9GeODL6pF1sjBXvKeAMsyNcaK66PwlIbKe0gvh5a_9WBCl4ibhlpvFLwpG/s1600/IMG_3921.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxAiEOhoeyKIat13ksianb_YuGxlkfHb-MIch0ncp1M-P05DtmUy1xsQV8f7rARdCINKYvasFLBBSeVb4Yjf9GeODL6pF1sjBXvKeAMsyNcaK66PwlIbKe0gvh5a_9WBCl4ibhlpvFLwpG/s320/IMG_3921.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
<br /><br />Kris Livovichhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12328942615612193100noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8436782596901032353.post-52536593400452692182012-05-28T11:25:00.001-05:002012-05-28T11:25:31.220-05:00Memorial<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
To all our dear family and friends who sacrificed for us,</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaDnZVXdRZxOljY22UN8DBBUrmCIU0IBHUyyKjdXlCgiih9jbbfmfRRZPiVTpV_hKDDguFyWb4w38AvwHGXuUfaB3m5TxHigid79Zq9_7P8M_w_nr_I2miaX0RT7Bmyo3QaO55e5WgvdSd/s1600/IMG_3904.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaDnZVXdRZxOljY22UN8DBBUrmCIU0IBHUyyKjdXlCgiih9jbbfmfRRZPiVTpV_hKDDguFyWb4w38AvwHGXuUfaB3m5TxHigid79Zq9_7P8M_w_nr_I2miaX0RT7Bmyo3QaO55e5WgvdSd/s320/IMG_3904.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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Thank you.</div>
<br />Kris Livovichhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12328942615612193100noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8436782596901032353.post-22821158985355476492012-05-27T20:10:00.001-05:002012-05-27T20:10:26.478-05:00The Week in Pictures<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Did you ever have a Field Day, Mom? In Mexico? Did you love it? - the kids asked me this week in anticipation of our Fourth Annual Porter County Homeschool Field Day. They were so excited. The girls had their outfits chosen a week in advance, the boys frantically looked for underwear the morning of. </div>
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To answer their questions, no I never had a Field Day in Mexico. But I did have a Field Day the year I was in fifth grade and we lived in Wheaton. And no, I did not love it. I hated it. I hated Field Day. There, I said it. I think traditional Field Days are meant to prove once and for all and without a doubt that only 1% of the population is athletic. The rest of us? Participation ribbons all around! In fifth grade I was chubby, awkward, had no athletic ability, and really didn't fit in at all. Not too dissimilar from now.... Contrary to popular opinion, Field Day did <i>nothing</i> to fix any of that. In fact, it only made me more sure of my outsider status. My only friends that year were the two most rotund girls in the class, one of whom might have lived with her grandma in a studio apartment, or maybe her car, the other with some serious hygiene issues, and the only black girl in the entire school. A band of misfits we were, and we were lumped together in Field Day as just another group of not blond, not skinny, not athletic, not Wheaton little girls. We did not fit and this event did nothing to make us feel part of the group, in fact it did the exact opposite. It showed us that we couldn't jump, couldn't run, couldn't lift, couldn't do relays. At the end of the day, I was pretty sure I couldn't do anything. </div>
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So no, kids. I did not love Field Day. </div>
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Fast forward a few years to the Best Field Day Evah!!</div>
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My kids love Field Day with a passion. They look forward to it every single year. As the husband so helpfully pointed out, "It's because our Field Day requires absolutely no athletic ability whatsoever." </div>
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Maybe. Ok, yes. </div>
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But! And it's a big but! Our Field Day is chock full of games, fun, running, jumping, happy competition, kicking of balls, relays, chicken chucks, and clown outfits. Everyone comes home with at least six ribbons. There are the participation ribbons, of course, but there are 1st, 2nd, 3rd place ribbons and the very coveted Special Award Ribbon. Last year Elia got "Best Form in the Chicken Chuck" Special Award, and this year Josie <i>finally, finally </i>got her first ever Special Award for "Best Pitching in Kickball". </div>
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You may think we are those "everybody wins all the time" kind of people, the kind where nobody ever loses because somebody might cry, but I would beg to differ. I think competition is good. I think in games and in sports and in life in general there are winners and losers. There is most definitely a first, second, and third place in so many things. I think learning to lose, and to lose gracefully is an important skill to have. I think winning gracefully is an important skill to have. But I think you lose way more often than you win. And I think our kids know that. I think kids learn really early on that the world is big, and hard, and that they are not going to be the best at everything all of the time. </div>
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And I say, why rub their noses in it? Why not make Field Day the kind of fun that Every Single Kid can enjoy, no matter what their athletic ability? Why not make it fun and friendly rather than ostracizing to the different and awkward kids? There will be plenty of hard things in life, why make this hard too? In conclusion (<i>finally</i>, right!?) I think our Porter County Field Day is the best Field Day ever. A great time was had by all involved. I wish everybody's Field Day could be as fun as ours. </div>
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If you want to see more pictures and hear another homeschooler's take on it, head on over and see <a href="http://musingsfromnevillesnavel.wordpress.com/2012/05/26/the-4th-annual-homeschool-field-day/" target="_blank">Neville Girl's pictures.</a> (some of which I stole, mwa ha ha! Thank you Neville Girl's Mom for letting me use your pictures without asking!) Neville Girl is the one levitating during kickball (I knew all that Harry Potter reading was good for something...)</div>
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Now on to other less preachy things! Like our first all watermelon dinner of the season! I anticipate many more of these as the weather warms and cooking becomes more sticky. </div>
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You can't see them, but in front of the little girl laying in the grass are the chickies. Until we have a coop, we take them out to the garden every time we go out back, which is a lot. There is something so incredibly soothing and peaceful watching chicks peck about in the dirt and listening to them cheep to each other.<br />
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This video is a couple days old, they've visibly grown since then (man! They grow fast!), but look at their cuteness. It will be a shame to kill the rooster, if we get one. </div>
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And today, I had two hunky plumbers show up to fix a problem under the kitchen sink. Don't tell the husband, but they are some good looking handymen, and can fix things around my house any time.<br />
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Happy Weekend to all of you!</div>
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<br />Kris Livovichhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12328942615612193100noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8436782596901032353.post-33737609241841297252012-05-25T06:46:00.003-05:002012-05-25T06:46:54.154-05:00Sensing a themeChecklist for Field Day<br />
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- get dressed<br />
- brush teeth and hair<br />
- breakfast<br />
- go potty<br />
- does everyone have on underwear?<br />
- put on shoes<br />
- pack car<br />
- check everyone for underwear one more timeKris Livovichhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12328942615612193100noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8436782596901032353.post-59106501222221752942012-05-21T22:23:00.005-05:002012-05-21T22:24:35.187-05:00Everything's coming up<br />
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Peonies!</div>
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Irises!</div>
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Allium!</div>
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Future raspberries,</div>
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future blackberries!<br />
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And... bottoms?</div>
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<br />Kris Livovichhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12328942615612193100noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8436782596901032353.post-11041521644878845702012-05-19T08:47:00.000-05:002012-05-19T08:47:12.885-05:00Oh NO!!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
You guys! I went out to check on the baby robins last night and they were all gone! I knew something was up when mama didn't swoop at me like usual. She normally stands guard and the minute you step out the back door she's like a hawk. This time she stayed close by, but didn't attack when I peeked at the nest. No babies in the nest, no babies on the ground. It was so sad. </div>
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You know who I blame? No, not Mikey. The dumb raccoon that comes in the night to dig in the compost. Mama robin built her nest in a low bush right next to the fence, not the smartest, considering even Mikey could get a peek without having to climb. That raccoon must have come in and found himself an unexpected smorgasbord. </div>
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When Mike and the kids walked in the door last night I greeted them with the sad news. Of course as soon as they realized I was talking about robins and not the beloved chickies, nobody cared anymore. I was the saddest. Dumb, callous kids.</div>
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The chickies are great. They are starting to get feathers and are growing incredibly fast. According to Elia, Harry is the pooper when people hold him. I think Harry is also the most docile. The other two are a little feistier. I don't know if we told you, they are Australorp and Rhode Island Red mix. Some people don't think I can kill my sweet little adorable fluffy chickies if they turn out to be boys, but I can. It's just like with the kids. You disappoint me, and I will end you.</div>
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Speaking of sweet little adorable chickies, look who I've been waking up to lately. This chick usually comes stumbling to our bed around 5am or so, and climbs on in. I don't know how he makes it down the stairs and to our bedroom without hurting himself because he does it with his blanket over his head, like a little crocheted ghost. During the week, the husband is up by 4 working in his teensy tiny corner office of the bedroom, so he greets the Deli and lets him clamber on up into bed with me.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">See the blankie? All the holes were finally too big to fix. <br />Grandma had to patch them with fabric. It's well loved, that blankie. <br /></td></tr>
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I think I like sleeping with the little blond boy. I think. But do you see how much room he takes? It's a Queen size bed, and I'm pretty sure he's taking up a Full sized space. Not much left for Mama! In theory, sleeping with your kiddos is great, but when you wake up huddled against the wall with a knee in your back, it's not so fun. </div>
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The feathered chickies are good, my baby chickies are better. Especially since they don't poop on me when I hold them. </div>
<br />Kris Livovichhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12328942615612193100noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8436782596901032353.post-89923071132961261832012-05-16T21:07:00.001-05:002012-05-16T21:07:31.956-05:00All chicken, all the time.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
We have chosen official names for the chickies! May I present,</div>
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Peeky (named by Elia), I am unsure of the spelling, as I am unsure to the origin of the name.</div>
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Harry (Potter, Josie's boyfriend). </div>
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Let's hope Harry is actually a Harriet, or Voldemort will win this war. And so will our stomachs. There is no picture of Josie holding her chick because she looked drunk. Josie, not the chick. Can't have drunk children on here, now can we?</div>
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And last but not least, Speedy (named by Del). </div>
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Gonzalez for short. </div>
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Del woke the chickies up this morning with loving squeezes and kisses straight to the beak. I wasn't even out of bed when he did this. Sometime before seven I heard loud cheeping coming from the bathroom. I thought they were just being noisy, but then I heard the Deli telling them that it's ok, shhh, be quiet or mama will hear. THAT got me out of bed in a hurry. So there's a couple of new rules for the chicks. Del must always, always, always wait for mama before touching them. And no kissing them on the lips, ever. </div>
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We installed a nice little Trio roosting spot which they enjoy quite a bit. And when it's sunny on the porch, we let them out to enjoy the sun and the carpet. Until they poop, then it's back in the box for you! Exactly how we raised our human babies!</div>
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I think Harry is my favorite right now. She seems calmer and plumper and sweeter. She is quieter in her protests when we pick her up, and all over just adorable. I'm gushing, I know. But they are so cute. You don't even want to know how much time I spent sitting next to their box gazing at the sweet littles today. Hmmm, maybe we need another baby in the house. That will solve all our problems! I kid. Really. And somewhere in Michigan City the husband just broke out into a cold, cold sweat. </div>
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And speaking of babies. I risked life and limb getting a picture of the robin babies for all of you! Mama robin almost snatched me bald she was so mad. They're not quite as cute as the chicks, but I'm so glad there are four. Four eggs, four birdies. Just right. </div>
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In other news Josie auditioned for The Secret Garden musical being held here in Chesterton. She didn't get a part, but I was so proud of her lack of fear and enthusiasm for something new. We found out yesterday morning that they were holding auditions that night. Both girls wanted to do it, but when Elia found out that the audition would be <i>on a stage, in front of actual people</i>, she said thanks but no thanks. Josie found that idea to be "fabulous". So without practice, without sheet music, we headed over, she (softly and shyly) sang "Hey, Good Lookin'" (her favorite Hank Williams song), she read in a passable English accent, and she went home floating on clouds. That girl has no fear. </div>
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I love seeing the different personalities of these kiddos unfold. </div>
<br />Kris Livovichhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12328942615612193100noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8436782596901032353.post-60495068302068174352012-05-15T09:26:00.000-05:002012-05-15T09:26:25.852-05:00New babies in the house<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
We have expanded our family by three! If they are all girls, that is. </div>
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A good friend of ours hatched eggs from her hens and let us take a few little chicklets. Aren't they sweet? They have been prompting a lot of "It's so fluffy!" re-enactments.</div>
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We are deciding on names. The Papi and I will have veto power.</div>
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So far we have: Harry, Hermione and Ron</div>
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or Harry, Peaky, and Cinnamon</div>
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or Harry, Blacky and Stinky-butt.</div>
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Hmmmm, which names to choose.... I'm not positive, but I think Harry might be a front runner.</div>
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They are super cute, and super fluffy, and super loud. So loud! We have them in the bathroom at the moment and were a little concerned as to whether they would keep us up all night. We didn't have too long to wonder, they fell asleep and we stood there gazing at their sweet little sleepy poofyness. They really are cute. </div>
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Are we excited to have chicks? Yes! Are we going to take good care of them? Yes! Are we ready for chicks? Heck no. Are we allowed to have chicks in Chesterton? Technically no, pero más vale pedir perdón que permiso, right? I was told that you need a quarter of an acre, or they need to be a 4-H project. So there you go. </div>
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We are super excited, there has been much discussion as to their cuteness, their names, if they will be boys or girls, how we will kill any that turn out to be boys, you know, that kind of thing. I described swinging the rooster by its neck until it snaps or chopping it's head off. Josie was thoroughly disgusted while Del thought the whole process would be "totally awesome". Mental note: watch that boy around the chicks.</div>
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Of course we had to start a chicken journal.</div>
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Elia, the star journal keeper is taking care of those details. </div>
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Now we just need to fashion a coop! We've got a couple months 'till they need one of those, right? Right?!! Right? Please say yes. </div>
<br />Kris Livovichhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12328942615612193100noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8436782596901032353.post-28577600318197775812012-05-12T08:26:00.001-05:002012-05-12T08:26:44.188-05:00in which my family might decide they don't need to visit after allThe Deli declared on Thursday that until I bought him Scooby Doo or Transformer underwear he would no longer wear any. Which makes it different from any other day of the week how? Considering that the moment he made this statement, only two out of the five of us (the Papi was at work, I'm pretty sure he wears underwear to work. Unless he doesn't.) were actually wearing underwear, his threat carries very little weight.<br />
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Any of you MK's out there seen a book called "You might be an MK if....."? I've thought up a few extra entries.<br />
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You might be an MK if....<br />
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.... you say, "That hurt as bad as amoebas!" and know what you are talking about because you have actually had them.<br />
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.... you aren't annoyed because you have to wait in line for <i>five whole minutes</i> to pay a bill.<br />
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.... you can calmly answer back, "Yes, I do know what that means, and please don't call me that." In the jerk's native language. <br />
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.... you have lived in the US for <i>twenty</i> years and have yet to completely figure out how to greet people. When do you hug? handshake? give a small wave? So you opt for nothing. Which you would never do in your old country. Americans are so confusing.<br />
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Anything to add?<br />
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We have a robin's nest out back and Mikey discovered it. Yesterday he came in yelling about eggs! He had the eggs in his hand. Four beautiful, blue, little eggs. After I finished freaking out in the ugliest over the top manner, we put the eggs back in the nest and watched the Mama bird make her way over to check on her egglets. This morning he woke up earlier than he has all week and went right out to check on the nest. Mama bird started dive bombing him the moment he got within five feet of the nest. Good for her. <br />
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He is persistent though. He wants to see those babies hatch. "Even if she pecks me, Mom, I will keep checking the nest. I want them to live." I hope she pecks him and I hope he keeps checking.<br />
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Can you guess where we went?</div>
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Yesterday Mikey brought a comforter downstairs and told me, "This blanket stinks like pee! It needs to go in the ropa sucia!"</div>
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Me: Why? Who peed on it?</div>
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Mikey: Oh, I think just some pee from the pee box spilled on it.</div>
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Me: The <i style="font-weight: bold;">WHAT</i>?!!!!</div>
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Mikey: Oh, you know, the box that Deli peed in. Some spilled on the blanket.</div>
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(Why at this point, is he staring at me as if I am the crazy one? He's giving me this disbelieving look, as if he cannot understand why I don't know what a pee box is. And he feels sorry for me.)</div>
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Me: WhoWhaWhyHow Pee box?</div>
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Mikey: Don't worry Mom, we emptied it. It doesn't have pee in it <i>now</i>. </div>
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What a relief.</div>
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Still want to come out this summer, familia? </div>
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<br /></div>Kris Livovichhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12328942615612193100noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8436782596901032353.post-81171294244811055652012-05-09T21:23:00.003-05:002012-05-09T21:23:22.822-05:00those boys<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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They just keep growing....</div>
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and growing....</div>
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and growing. </div>
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<br />Kris Livovichhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12328942615612193100noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8436782596901032353.post-90482070949247755262012-05-08T07:50:00.001-05:002012-05-08T15:11:21.902-05:00random tuesday<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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The boys have become the best of friends lately. The other day found them walking arm in arm discussing how when they grow up they will live within walking distance of each other and they will take their families to the fair together, and ride the roller coasters together.... there was only one problem. "Mikey, to have kids we need to get married," said Del with a sigh, "and I don't know any girls who want to marry me yet!" To which Mike answered, "Don't worry Deli, I'm your brother. I'll find you a girl!" </div>
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Love them.</div>
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~~~</div>
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We went bird banding <a href="http://www.in.gov/dnr/parklake/2980.htm" target="_blank">at the Indiana Dunes</a>. I think what I love most about homeschooling is all the learning <i>I</i> do. Who knows how much the kids learn, and who cares? I'm having a great time!</div>
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We banded 7 birds. I use the royal we because much to Josie's chagrin "we" didn't band any birds. We watched while the ranger did all the handling. Something about proper training or whatever. As soon as Josie found out that we were not physically handling the birds she was done. Out of there. Nothing to see, as far as she was concerned. It took a lot of convincing to get her to participate. Next time I'll know to be more precise with my field trip descriptions.</div>
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To band the birds, first they catch them in nets or cages, pop them in a cloth bag and bring them inside. Our job was to weigh them, measure them, figure out if they were male or female, band them and release them. The weighing (above) was pretty interesting. The ranger would be holding the birds by their feet, then quick as a wink he would upend them into a little bottle placed on a scale. The sudden upturn, the closeness of the bottle, the dark would all serve to calm the bird so it would hold still enough to be weighed quickly. </div>
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While we didn't band the birds ourselves, we did get to touch them. See above? See that sweet little bird? Look closely, where all the hands are. See? There! Right in there is a bird. We banded a goldfinch, three woodpeckers, a something else, and a couple other birds. Yes those are the official names of all the birds - the Latin, if you will. Super scientist, that's me! </div>
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Elia got to hold one in her hand before releasing it. Sometimes when you place a bird on it's back in the palm of your hand it becomes still and quiet. The ranger said it was more restful than terrifying for the bird. This bird was not restful and as soon as she was released she took off like a shot!</div>
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Did you ever wonder what a goldfinch heart beat sounds like? It's like a teeny tiny engine, or a very soft purring of a cat - fast, whirring, thrumming. Also very cool. </div>
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I'm not sure who was more scared at this moment, the kids or the bird.</div>
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Near the end, most of the children had lost interest (Josie lost it in the very beginning), but Elia stuck with it all the way through. She loved every bit of bird banding. There were a couple of very angry woodpeckers near the end who really did a number on the ranger. They bit and pecked and drew blood. We learned that in order to replicate a woodpecker's "peck" we needed to wrap our heads in a pillow, then ram our heads into a wall three times a second at 20 miles an hour. The boys did not try that at home. </div>
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Bird banding, who knew it was so much fun?</div>
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~~~~~</div>
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Tomorrow is Poetry Wednesday, and I do believe <a href="http://flakedoves.blogspot.com/2012/05/assuming-there-is-such-secret.html" target="_blank">Julia is now hosting</a>. For which I am so grateful. Things have been busy and crazy around here and I have not been reading poetry at the rate I was before. Before was not that much, but I could come up with a poem or two. Now it's pretty sad. Needless to say, it is with great relief that I cede poetry Wednesday to her. Her writing and her choice of poems are always wonderful. You would do well to head on over and<a href="http://flakedoves.blogspot.com/" target="_blank"> read her thoughts.</a> And of course, link up there!</div>
<br />Kris Livovichhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12328942615612193100noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8436782596901032353.post-3495798699159060932012-05-02T08:32:00.000-05:002012-05-02T11:27:28.403-05:00Poetry Wednesday, Vol. 113<br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 1.5;">"Why do I love" You, Sir?</span><br />
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Because—<br />
The Wind does not require the Grass<br />
To answer—Wherefore when He pass<br />
She cannot keep Her place.<br />
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Because He knows—and<br />
Do not You—<br />
And We know not—<br />
Enough for Us<br />
The Wisdom it be so—<br />
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The Lightning—never asked an Eye<br />
Wherefore it shut—when He was by—<br />
Because He knows it cannot speak—<br />
And reasons not contained—<br />
—Of Talk—<br />
There be—preferred by Daintier Folk—<br />
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The Sunrise—Sire—compelleth Me—<br />
Because He's Sunrise—and I see—<br />
Therefore—Then—<br />
I love Thee— </div>
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<i>Emily Dickinson</i></div>
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To the husband, who is faithful and true, loving and generous, hardworking and self sacrificing, the best husband and papi we could ask for. <br />
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</div>Kris Livovichhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12328942615612193100noreply@blogger.com1