<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35869784</id><updated>2011-04-21T15:33:13.141-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Sitting Awhile</title><subtitle type='html'>Campfires, porches, living rooms, canoes, old logs, wherever the day's end finds us; let's sit awhile and talk.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sittingawhile.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35869784/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sittingawhile.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Kyle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06618645562478262369</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>33</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35869784.post-1072186478194910129</id><published>2008-09-02T18:12:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-09-02T18:29:53.512-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DwC7i5L8jA0/SL2-JfBwnLI/AAAAAAAAABk/dnamxriuOvY/s1600-h/blog.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5241554611486104754" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DwC7i5L8jA0/SL2-JfBwnLI/AAAAAAAAABk/dnamxriuOvY/s400/blog.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;LET'S DO THE TIME WARP AGAIN!!!!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;So I know some might be visiting this blog and wondering what happened from August 29th until September 2nd. There seems to be a year missing in there. Well the truth is there is a year missing. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;You see blogging was a way for me to organize my thoughts and since I am not thinking any more...just kidding.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;You see blogging was a way for me to interact with my friends and since I have no more friends...just kidding. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;You see blogging was a way for me to express myself and since the courts have put a restraint on all future personal expression...just kidding.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Okay the truth is it is one part lazy, one part busy, and one part distracted. I know those things might not all seem to fit together but that's the story morning glory! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;"But now I'm back to let you know I can really shake'em down!"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35869784-1072186478194910129?l=sittingawhile.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sittingawhile.blogspot.com/feeds/1072186478194910129/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35869784&amp;postID=1072186478194910129&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35869784/posts/default/1072186478194910129'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35869784/posts/default/1072186478194910129'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sittingawhile.blogspot.com/2008/09/lets-do-time-warp-again-so-i-know-some.html' title=''/><author><name>Kyle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06618645562478262369</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DwC7i5L8jA0/SL2-JfBwnLI/AAAAAAAAABk/dnamxriuOvY/s72-c/blog.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35869784.post-7593155501363259985</id><published>2007-08-29T11:02:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-08-29T11:48:49.800-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DwC7i5L8jA0/RtWVN_lKl_I/AAAAAAAAABE/P4QLGY8Cb84/s1600-h/41j7d38PxfL__SS400_.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5104149820332480498" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DwC7i5L8jA0/RtWVN_lKl_I/AAAAAAAAABE/P4QLGY8Cb84/s400/41j7d38PxfL__SS400_.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;AM I NOT A PATRIOT?!&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;my first allegiance is not to a flag, a country, or a man&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;my first allegiance is not to democracy or blood&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;it's to a king &amp;amp; a kingdom&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;-Derek Webb&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I know that some may disagree with me and that is fine. I know we all have our little issues, but when I see a t-shirt like the pic above my blood pressure rises a few points. I want to ask the person what REALLY is the message you are trying to get across? IS your first concern the Gospel? Do you want the person who reads this to ask you about Jesus or about America?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Don't get me wrong I love my country. I love the freedoms that I have enjoyed for my 30 years here on this earth. I respect the men and women who fight to defend those freedoms. I admire the men who sat down over 200 years ago and drafted the Constitution. What an amazing document that is! As if saying to future generations, HERE is the kind of country that we want to see built.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;It is amazing to me how much of the early fathers based our Constitution on Biblical Values. And yet I have to remind myself that America is NOT in the Bible! As great as this land is, It was not spoken of in the Holy Scriptures. This is not the new Land of Canaan! George W. Bush did not usher in the Second Coming as I think many hoped he would. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I just know that there are many people in our churches that can get real misty eyed at the playing of the Star Spangled Banner, but when we sing of Christ redemptive work on the cross they sing as if out of duty and not passion. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I guess over the years I have come to realize that I am not in the "America: Love It or Leave It" crowd. As much as I love my country, I know that the Gospel is for all nations. And as some need to remember, this world is not our home. One day we will all become very patriotic, not for America, but for a New Jerusalem! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I know these thoughts are very scattered and I probably should have taken more time to develop them. I know that there is another statement in that pic: One Nation Under God. There is so much I could say about that., but I'll save that for another day. Until then ask yourself this question: Do you see a Muslim as an enemy of America or as a sinner in need of grace?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35869784-7593155501363259985?l=sittingawhile.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sittingawhile.blogspot.com/feeds/7593155501363259985/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35869784&amp;postID=7593155501363259985&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35869784/posts/default/7593155501363259985'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35869784/posts/default/7593155501363259985'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sittingawhile.blogspot.com/2007/08/am-i-not-patriot-my-first-allegiance-is.html' title=''/><author><name>Kyle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06618645562478262369</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DwC7i5L8jA0/RtWVN_lKl_I/AAAAAAAAABE/P4QLGY8Cb84/s72-c/41j7d38PxfL__SS400_.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35869784.post-7176748949968878750</id><published>2007-07-13T14:57:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-07-13T15:17:58.074-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DwC7i5L8jA0/RpfPTYG1CQI/AAAAAAAAAA8/YgFJt-mJPyc/s1600-h/DSCF3996.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5086762235933821186" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DwC7i5L8jA0/RpfPTYG1CQI/AAAAAAAAAA8/YgFJt-mJPyc/s400/DSCF3996.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Pesto: A Little Bit of Love From the Italain Garden&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I owe my love for fresh pesto to a Mr. Sean Dennis. As long as I have known the Dennises, they have found some way to fit a basil plant into their life. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Well this past winter I grew increasingly more interested in gardening. It was only a natural progression anyway. The years of landscaping, the grandson of a sharecropper, all of the hours outdoors, the wisdom of simplicity and self reliance, the love a cooking, and of course the absolute bliss that can come from eating have all lead to the somewhat chubby, jolly fellow ya'll see before you today. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Well unfortunately we have no house to plant our own garden, and our apartment's balcony is too shaded by trees to grow anything. This has lead to a few frustrations. Therefore any desire to get my hands in some soil, to put down some roots, and collect a harvest must be accomplished at friend's and family's garden's. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;A few weeks ago Mom, Dad, Missy, and I went to check out the Memphis Farmer's Market. There was a guy there that had some great looking herb seedlings. The basil looked especially good, so I asked Dad if I could have a corner of his tomato garden to plant a basil plant. He agreed. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Recently I was on the phone with Dad and he said, " Kyle, you may want to get that pesto recipe from Sean cause your basil plant is growing like a weed!" I was shocked to see how the plant had grown. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;So while Missy and I were down for the Fish Fry on the 4th, we gathered enough basil leaves to make a couple of batches. We added the basil to garlic, walnuts, olive oil, and parmesan cheese. The process was remarkably easy, although aided considerably by the modern wonder that is the food processor!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I have been enjoying one of the jars and we froze the other batch. That is the great thing about the pesto is that you can make a ton of it during the growing season and freeze most of it for the winter when a taste of summer is greatly appreciated!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35869784-7176748949968878750?l=sittingawhile.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sittingawhile.blogspot.com/feeds/7176748949968878750/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35869784&amp;postID=7176748949968878750&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35869784/posts/default/7176748949968878750'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35869784/posts/default/7176748949968878750'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sittingawhile.blogspot.com/2007/07/pesto-little-bit-of-love-from-italain.html' title=''/><author><name>Kyle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06618645562478262369</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DwC7i5L8jA0/RpfPTYG1CQI/AAAAAAAAAA8/YgFJt-mJPyc/s72-c/DSCF3996.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35869784.post-1062108088454609614</id><published>2007-06-12T13:06:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-06-12T13:30:20.526-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DwC7i5L8jA0/Rm7YFTSolSI/AAAAAAAAAAs/WBoRjXeWXvA/s1600-h/DSCF3892.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5075231415682503970" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DwC7i5L8jA0/Rm7YFTSolSI/AAAAAAAAAAs/WBoRjXeWXvA/s320/DSCF3892.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;A NEW FAMILY MEMBER&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Here in the Hopper household we have a new member. Missy and I have been talking for sometime about getting a dog. Well we really have enjoyed some of the beagles that we have known. Plus last November Missy held a Beagle pup that had her hooked. At that time we had neither the means nor the stability to offer a new puppy a home. Now we are a little more stable and were anxious to increase our numbers. Well we began by looking online for pups. We found many a good breeder. Soon though, we found a beagle rescue not far from where we lived. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Now Missy has always had girl dogs so that is what she wanted. The idea of a boy dog really worried her. So when we called the lady from the rescue to set up a meeting she said that she would bring her girl rescue beagles. Well we met her on a Saturday and she brought five beagles. Four females and one male. She said that she brought the male because she thought that if any boy could change Missy's mind then this was the dog to do it. Well wouldn't you know, The boy won out in the end. His name was David. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Well we were not to keen on the name David. For one I have a few friends named David. So we set out to find a name for the dog. We scoured the name lists. I kept wanting to do something literary and all of Missy's names were too "cute." We finally agreed on the name "Colonel." &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;So that was that. Now came outfitting our home for a new dog. We bought a crate, leash, toys, and of course.......cabinet locks!!! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;The next Saturday we picked up Colonel and actually started obedience training that morning. He seems to be a smart dog and picks things up fairly quickly. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;The rest of the day was spent showing him to family in the area and introducing him to other dogs in the family. After a few shaky introductions, all dogs seem to get along well now.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;We really love having the dog and are growing very attached to it. He really has a pleasant spirit and makes us laugh often. We both feel very blessed with him in our life. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;So Welcome, Colonel!!!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35869784-1062108088454609614?l=sittingawhile.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sittingawhile.blogspot.com/feeds/1062108088454609614/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35869784&amp;postID=1062108088454609614&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35869784/posts/default/1062108088454609614'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35869784/posts/default/1062108088454609614'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sittingawhile.blogspot.com/2007/06/new-family-member-here-in-hopper.html' title=''/><author><name>Kyle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06618645562478262369</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DwC7i5L8jA0/Rm7YFTSolSI/AAAAAAAAAAs/WBoRjXeWXvA/s72-c/DSCF3892.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35869784.post-4664028793462498626</id><published>2007-04-27T13:51:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-04-27T14:33:38.523-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DwC7i5L8jA0/RjJB7clLmhI/AAAAAAAAAAk/ZuUciqzBLW4/s1600-h/DSC00002.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5058177821030717970" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DwC7i5L8jA0/RjJB7clLmhI/AAAAAAAAAAk/ZuUciqzBLW4/s320/DSC00002.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;FISH FRY!!!&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;This Friday I think I am gonna write about one of my favorite family summer traditions.....the fish fry! Every year growing up my grandfather, father, and I would spend all spring catching crappie, bream, and the occasional bass or catfish. All of the fish would go into the freezer. I remember when I was younger they were frozen in cardboard half gallon milk containers. Now they are frozen in Ziplock Freezerbags. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Well soon the 4th of July would roll around. That is when most of the fish from the spring would be unthawed and cooked. Now I am not talking a few pounds of fish here. I mean these fish fries would have sometimes as many as two dozen people there. There was families, extended families, and friends. I can remember being at many as a kid thinking, "I don't know who half of these people are!" But they were there for the fellowship and the fish. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;It was a neat feeling to think that the fish that we were eating were the fish that the three of us had caught in the weeks before. I can remember dad and grandpa always teasing as they pulled out the fillets. "Wow, That's a big one! Yeah I remember catching this fish. Oh wait, here this little one! Must have been your's Kyle." Ain't it great to be the kid!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;But seriously in all the years we had those fish fries I never remember having to go to the store and buy fish. There were some years when the fishing would be tough in the early season that I would worry that we would not have enough. But somehow the LORD always seemed to provide enough for everyone to eat. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Now about this fish fryer of my grandpa's. It was nothing like these new fryers of today that you see people using to fry turkeys and fish in. No this thing was about the oldest looking piece of scrap metal you can imagine. It was held together by rust. I am pretty sure the thing used rocket fuel because it sounded like a jet engine. People would stand outside around it and talk. Well talk is an understatement. They would really have to yell to be heard over the fryer. You would think people would go inside until the fish was all done, but the veterans new a secret. You stayed near the fryer because as the batches of fish would get done, grandpa would give those standing by a bite of fresh HOT fish. There is nothing like fried fish straight out of the oil!!!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;As the fish would get done grandpa would put the fish into paper grocery bags, you know the brown type, that had been lined with paper towels to catch the excess grease. He would roll the top down to keep the heat in. Man the outside of those bags would get so much grease bleeding through! Enough to give any health nut a heartattack!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;After all of the fish were done, grandpa would come out with the hushpuppy batter. He would spoon the batter in a scoop at a time. Soon the batter had puffed up to form this beautiful golden brown hushpuppy. Those went into a paper bag as well. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;The meal was topped off with slaw, many assorted vegetables, and all the favorite sidedishes that the various people had brought. Of course there was always a few gallons of sweet tea in the fridge. The meal ended with a huge spread of desserts.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I don't know if this is really just a Southern thing or not, but I wish that everyone could experience a meal like that. It's just one of those things that taste like family to me!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35869784-4664028793462498626?l=sittingawhile.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sittingawhile.blogspot.com/feeds/4664028793462498626/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35869784&amp;postID=4664028793462498626&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35869784/posts/default/4664028793462498626'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35869784/posts/default/4664028793462498626'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sittingawhile.blogspot.com/2007/04/fish-fry-this-friday-i-think-i-am-gonna.html' title=''/><author><name>Kyle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06618645562478262369</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DwC7i5L8jA0/RjJB7clLmhI/AAAAAAAAAAk/ZuUciqzBLW4/s72-c/DSC00002.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35869784.post-7504959856295965061</id><published>2007-04-20T15:03:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-04-20T15:47:41.528-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DwC7i5L8jA0/RikXaDGBWpI/AAAAAAAAAAc/p2pY4ChOsKY/s1600-h/logo_big_bk_thumbnail.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5055597792974690962" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DwC7i5L8jA0/RikXaDGBWpI/AAAAAAAAAAc/p2pY4ChOsKY/s400/logo_big_bk_thumbnail.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Think Globally/Eat Locally&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;So I know it has been a long time since my last post but I will make no excuses only to say that Missy and I have had quite an interesting time over the last few months. The LORD seems to have some trials lined up for us. Maybe to make us more Christlike, Maybe to strengthen our marriage, maybe both. Who knows the will of the LORD? His ways are beyond me and I can only ask for the strength to be faithful. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Anyway enough on that......&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;This is Friday so it is time for a post about food. You know these are certainly some of my favorite posts and I have missed writing about this subject.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Yesterday I was cruising around on the web looking for a local farmers market that Missy and I might be able to pick up some fresh groceries. While my search was going on, I came across this website. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://100milediet.org/"&gt;http://100milediet.org/&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;It is a website about this guy and girl that for one year ate only food that came from 100 miles or less from their home. Now you may be asking why would anyone subject themselves to this kind of restriction. Well we have all heard about the benefits of eating organic foods. Our culture has become dependent on large factory farms, tons of chemicals being poured on crops, and even Genetically Modified Plants. Organic foods return our food to the way that God intended our food to grow. Therefore our fruits and vegetables taste better and are packed with more of the micronutrients that much of the factory farm food is so starved for. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;But a new idea is coming out of modern food conversations. The idea of not only eating organically but eating locally. According to many studies much of the food that we eat on a daily basis in America has traveled hundreds maybe thousands of miles before ending up on our dinner plate. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Well you might ask why this matters? Well food that must travel great distances must be prepared for the journey. Apples and tomatoes have been produced with thick skins to handle the journey often at the expense of taste. My dad told me of a farming friend of his that talks about the fattening process that his cattle must go through to handle the strenuous journey of travelling in close quarters to the slaughter house sometimes hundreds of miles away. The cattle must be given many antibiotics to handle the diseases and infections that they may contract in this journey. By eating food that is local we can have food that is fresher, taste better, and doesn't need any technological intervention for growing and transporting. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Another thought is that in a world trying to think of ways to combat global warming or at least our imprint on the world, do I really need food that has been grown in Chile? Think of all of the gas that is burned in trying to get that food to me.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;The last idea is that part of America's history has been written by the small family farmers trying to hack out a living from the earth. A big part of who we are as a nation is being pushed out. The large farms with thier equipment, illegal labor crews, and chemicals can always out produce the family farms. But what are we giving up for this increase in production? There must be ways to support our farmers that are still trying to grow things in a way that is in tune with nature and the rhythms that God has put forth on this earth.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;This couple is wrestling with these issues. Through farmers markets we can actually meet the men and women who grow the food we eat. They may even let us come visit the farm to see where the food on our plate comes from. Another avenue for those in the cities is a program called a CSA, or Community Supported Agriculture. In these arrangements a group of people pay into a membership in a farm. You pay a lump sum price at the beginning of the year and throughout the growing season you get baskets of fresh produce and sometimes even meat. The final way to get local food is to grow your own garden. Even if it is only a 10x10 spot in the backyard or a couple of window boxes of your apartment balcony, the thought of food straight from the vine can be very attractive. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Now I know that this is a huge step for some people. My advice is take it slowly. The main point is to be more intentional with what we eat and where our food comes from. I think in the end you will see that a little bit of work will reap HUGE rewards!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35869784-7504959856295965061?l=sittingawhile.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sittingawhile.blogspot.com/feeds/7504959856295965061/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35869784&amp;postID=7504959856295965061&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35869784/posts/default/7504959856295965061'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35869784/posts/default/7504959856295965061'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sittingawhile.blogspot.com/2007/04/think-globallyeat-locally-so-i-know-it.html' title=''/><author><name>Kyle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06618645562478262369</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DwC7i5L8jA0/RikXaDGBWpI/AAAAAAAAAAc/p2pY4ChOsKY/s72-c/logo_big_bk_thumbnail.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35869784.post-4666900081726046240</id><published>2007-01-08T14:42:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-01-08T14:49:23.756-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DwC7i5L8jA0/RaKgJSuHuzI/AAAAAAAAAAM/OXl7RC4NIwk/s1600-h/86541739_c93f2f98b4.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5017749016348703538" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DwC7i5L8jA0/RaKgJSuHuzI/AAAAAAAAAAM/OXl7RC4NIwk/s320/86541739_c93f2f98b4.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;IF I HAD A MILLION DOLLARS&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Hello all you poor schmucks grinding it out everyday in those jobs you hate,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So anyway, I have been having a conversation lately with a few people that has been fun. The question is: What would You do with a lot of money?&lt;br /&gt;We used to do this as an exercise at the adolescent mental hospital I used to work at. We would have all of the kids right down on a piece of paper what they would do if they had a million dollars. It was always vast fun to see the answers. It really shows what is important to a person. The best answers were the younger inner city kids who would invariably say, " Man if I had a million dollars I would buy Nike. Then I would have them make me all the Jordans I could ever want!" The staff would always have a good laugh later thinking to ourselves, " Yeah sure you are going to buy a Multi-billion dollar company with a million dollars! HA!" But the exercise showed a lot. You see these kids that I worked with would come from the WORST home situations imaginable. But these kids would come to us with wardrobes that were RIDICULOUS! They would all have Ecko, South Pole, and the TENNIS SHOES! Man one article of these kids clothing wold cost more than I make in a week! But in their world clothes were a real status symbol. They might be poorer than dirt but hey at least I LOOK good.&lt;br /&gt;Well this past weekend Bobby Petrino left University of Louisville to go couch the Atlanta Falcons. Now some would say maybe he was going to make this move because he wanted to go coach in the Big Leagues. Maybe that is true. But something tells me it had something to do with the $24 million contract that was being offered that didn't hurt to "seal the deal." This got some friends to talking about being loyal to a school or loyal to your family.&lt;br /&gt;I also work in a job where daily I turn down the opportunity to be making $75000 a year in the next three years. Instead Missy and I continue to scrape by because we are pursuing something we feel is worth the sacrifice, an education and a career that is honoring the Lord.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So maybe a long introduction, but I want to know what would you do with money. Okay before I take a theological lashing about greed and the such, this is just an exercise. This is just talk. It is just about dreaming BIG! What would you do if "money were no object?" Now most people I know could blow through a million pretty quickly so let's make the number a little bigger. This weeks powerball billboards say that the current jackpot is $131 Million, so lets go with that. What would you do with $131 Million? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35869784-4666900081726046240?l=sittingawhile.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sittingawhile.blogspot.com/feeds/4666900081726046240/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35869784&amp;postID=4666900081726046240&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35869784/posts/default/4666900081726046240'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35869784/posts/default/4666900081726046240'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sittingawhile.blogspot.com/2007/01/if-i-had-million-dollars-hello-all-you.html' title=''/><author><name>Kyle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06618645562478262369</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DwC7i5L8jA0/RaKgJSuHuzI/AAAAAAAAAAM/OXl7RC4NIwk/s72-c/86541739_c93f2f98b4.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35869784.post-116665194388954350</id><published>2006-12-20T16:17:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-12-20T16:59:03.903-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/5523/3999/1600/418723/21987536_14c67a79bc.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/5523/3999/320/777728/21987536_14c67a79bc.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;THE CANOE: A TRIBUTE TO MOBILITY&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Everyone must believe in something. I believe I'll go canoeing.&lt;br /&gt;- Henry David Thoreau&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Recently I wrote about my truck's newest accessory, my canoe. Now people who have known me for sometime had begun to grow tired of me speaking about getting a new canoe. I think that Missy did not give in to letting me get one but instead we bought it so that she could stop hearing about getting one.&lt;br /&gt;I have long been attracted to the romance of a canoe. I love boats. There is just something to being on the water. The fishing is better, more parts of the world are opened up, and the feeling of becoming an aqautic creature can be fantastic! Boats are great, but they come in many shapes and sizes. I grew up fishing in an old jonboat that I am sure was bought at Sears the first year Sears was in business. This thing was old, but it taught me about being on the water. It ws great for throwing in the back of a pickup and getting into really great backwaters. Later in life I was able to go on friends Bass boats. Now these things are a monument to comfort. You can basically jump up and down on these things and they will not tip over. The only problem is that they are suited only to big water. Which is fine because these babies can FLY across the water. I have never understood why someone needed to go 100 MPH in a boat, but then you look at the size of some of these lakes and well it begins to make sense. The largest boat I have ever been on was on my honeymoon. Missy and I went on a cruise for our honeymoon. Now it is hard to think of these ships as boats. They feel more like floating cities. But let a choppy sea come up and you are quickly reminded that you are on a boat. Stablizers can only do so much!&lt;br /&gt;Well anyway, why the fascination with canoes? Well I guess the main reason that jumps out is my almost religious devotion to all things simple. I just love how stripped down a canoe can be. There are no electronics , no motors, nothing fancy! Just a hull, two seats, and a couple of paddles are all that is needed. I also love the fact that a canoe can go ANYWHERE! I strap that baby to the top of my truck and I can throw off the side of a road into a creek if need be. The canoe floats in mere inches of water therefore being able to get to places that would leave other heavier crafts beached. The other thing about a canoe is the reminder that we all have a center of gravity. Forget that and you will have a very wet, sometimes cold reminder!&lt;br /&gt;This year many fish have been caught from my canoe. Good times are already being had. Stories are already taking shape.&lt;br /&gt;This coming year I hope to take a trip to the Boundary Waters Canoe Area in Minnesota. This is an area that has been designated a wilderness area and is only accessable by canoe. It is a land filled with hundreds of glacier made lakes. Only a few groups are allowed in at any one time, so one can really experience something of a wilderness. This is a land that has changed very little since the first French furtraders came. The great thing is that on one of these trips you can experience the area in much the same way that they did.....from a canoe!&lt;br /&gt;So I know that a canoe is not the most glorious of all watercrafts but I do love them. I love the silence that can be heard from a canoe. This past year my friend Kevin and I were able to drift very close to a relaxing bobcat. The thing never really seemed to even mind that we were there. It was at that moment when my canoe purchase seemed all worth it!&lt;br /&gt;Thank You my beautiful wife for understanding your husband's weird fanatical obsessions. I apologize for not getting you out on the canoe this year. Next year you and I will take a float trip!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35869784-116665194388954350?l=sittingawhile.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sittingawhile.blogspot.com/feeds/116665194388954350/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35869784&amp;postID=116665194388954350&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35869784/posts/default/116665194388954350'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35869784/posts/default/116665194388954350'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sittingawhile.blogspot.com/2006/12/canoe-tribute-to-mobility-everyone.html' title=''/><author><name>Kyle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06618645562478262369</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35869784.post-116647651266691553</id><published>2006-12-18T15:33:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-12-18T16:15:12.970-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/5523/3999/1600/318471/44860881_be26aacdfc.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/5523/3999/320/62805/44860881_be26aacdfc.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;THE OTHER TWO "R'S" OF ENVIRONMENTALISM&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I am sure that by now many of you have heard of the three "R'S" of environmentalism: Reduce, Reuse, Recycle. Well today I was reading "The Last American Man" by Elizabeth Gilbert. In this book she chronicles the life, exploits, and philosophy of Eustace Conway. He is a guy that basically lives out of a teepee in the hills of North Carolina. He is as close as one can come to the old frontier mountain men of this country's origin.&lt;br /&gt;Well anyway I could post a lot on his thoughts about modern American life. He and I share a lot of the same philosophies and ideas, though I live in a two bedroom apartment and not in the woods. Today I was reading about some of his ideas about American consumerism. We go through a lot of junk!&lt;br /&gt;I know that this is probably the wrong time of year to be writing about this. This is Christmas. This is the time of year when all of our materialism comes rearing it's ugly head. We buy countless gifts for people, but how many of those gifts are going to be used? How many of them our even needed? Now I am not trying to hamper the giving spirit that grows in us this time of year. Sharing our wealth and blessing to bless others is a marvelous thing. The new idea is not just to give things but to improve someone's life.&lt;br /&gt;THe other two "R'S" I was referring to are Reconsider and Refuse. Instead of buying that thing you are just going to use once then throw away, ask yourself do I even NEED this item. Can my life go on without it?&lt;br /&gt;I don't want to sound extreme but I just want ot get people thinking. My dad used to tell people that I could live on less than anyone he ever knew. That I needed fewer things to be happy. Well I don't know if that is true or not. My wife and I have very little by American standards, and yet we have moved three times in the two years that we have been married. Everytime we move I am reminded of how much junk that we have that we never use. How many things do two people need to live?&lt;br /&gt;Now I am NOT suggesting that you sell all of your possessions and move to the woods. I am a big supported of seemingly "useless" items. I know that reading a book will not put food on my plate or a roof over my head. It will not add another day to my life. But I am one for surrounding myself with books. I know that books will add to the quality of my life. My days are more enjoyable because of my books. I am all for surrounding ourselves with beautiful things as well.&lt;br /&gt;I guess my point is think about your purchases. The more you buy the more space you need. Missy and I recently moved to a bigger apartment. We have a closet that we cannot even walk into because it is full of things we rarely use but need to store somewhere. My parents have lived in a house for over seven years now. They have a two car garage that has never had a car in it. It is just more storage space. They have boxes in their attic that have never been opened since the last time they moved! Now to my parents credit they ARE working hard to remedy this situation. They have made big strides over the last year to clean out the useless things they do not need. I forsee a HUGE garage sell in their near future.&lt;br /&gt;My basic point is how much do we NEED! People are building bigger and bigger homes and going further and further into debt to pay for the homes they can't afford to house the things they cannot afford and do not need. The best illustration of my point is a modern business upstart. How many storage facilities did you see 15 years ago? Unit after unit of places that house the things that people cannot fit into their present lives.&lt;br /&gt;Are we happier because of all of this junk? I think you know my answer.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35869784-116647651266691553?l=sittingawhile.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sittingawhile.blogspot.com/feeds/116647651266691553/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35869784&amp;postID=116647651266691553&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35869784/posts/default/116647651266691553'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35869784/posts/default/116647651266691553'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sittingawhile.blogspot.com/2006/12/other-two-rs-of-environmentalism-so-i.html' title=''/><author><name>Kyle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06618645562478262369</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35869784.post-116621124360748992</id><published>2006-12-15T14:11:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-12-15T14:34:03.636-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/5523/3999/1600/573280/2922091_73b6e65882.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/5523/3999/400/73282/2922091_73b6e65882.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;IT'S THAT TIME OF YEAR! EGG NOG BABY!&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So this Friday's post is not really about a food, but more of a drink. A drink that is so good that they can only bring it out once a year or Western Civilization would crumble under it's own gluttony (not that we're not doing that already, but anyway.) The drink is Egg Nog. Now where Egg Nog even comes from I have no idea. I think that it may have been handed down from the Lord Himself. You know when the Lord spoke of the Land of Canaan as flowing with milk and honey, we always assume that those were two seperate things. Maybe the Lord was leading His people to a fountain of Egg Nog. Now this is just a theory. Please do not quote me on this for I have no Scriptural basis. But it does get you to thinking.&lt;br /&gt;So anyway, back to Egg Nog. I mean how many calories can one drink have!!! If there is something else out there then please do not tell me about it. The creamy sugary goodness that is Egg Nog, MAN!&lt;br /&gt;Now there is some debate as to whether or not Egg Nog MUST have alcohol in it. My friend Brent used to say, "With no alcohol, how will you ever discover the True essence of the NOG?!" I cannot say. I will let you decide which you like better: virgin Egg Nog or the adult version.&lt;br /&gt;All that I know is that I am glad that you can only get it for a short time every year. It makes the season smell and taste unique as only winter and Christmas can. Now I know that there is someone out there that is going to tell me that you can get Egg Nog all year long if you know the right places to look, but they are wrong. In Kyle's world the special drink is only revealed in its glory but for a few short weeks.&lt;br /&gt;So I know that this is another post where I seemingly elevate the mundane to a hightened reality, but come on! It's Egg Nog! Man that stuff is good! It's like drinking a cake, a cake made by GOD! Bottoms UP!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35869784-116621124360748992?l=sittingawhile.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sittingawhile.blogspot.com/feeds/116621124360748992/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35869784&amp;postID=116621124360748992&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35869784/posts/default/116621124360748992'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35869784/posts/default/116621124360748992'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sittingawhile.blogspot.com/2006/12/its-that-time-of-year-egg-nog-baby-so.html' title=''/><author><name>Kyle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06618645562478262369</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35869784.post-116613279766130983</id><published>2006-12-14T16:00:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-12-14T16:46:37.780-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5523/3999/1600/canoe.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/5523/3999/400/860554/canoe.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;IF YOU EVER NEED A PICK-ME-UP, GET A PICK-UP! TRUCK THAT IS!&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So for those who know me, they know I love my truck. I have always wanted a truck and finally in the fall of 2001 I got my wish. My own Ford Ranger! Now I know what you are thinking, Seriously Kyle, a Ford Ranger. I thought you were talking about a REAL truck. WEll I know that it is not a monster by any sense of the word. Heck it's not even a full size. It may not have four wheel drive or mud tires, but trust me it is a truck! I have treated it like a truck the whole time I have had it. I haul stuff, pull stuff, drive over stuff. Everything you would expect from a good truck.&lt;br /&gt;Now you may ask me about my weird fascination with my truck. Well it all goes back to my childhood. I have had many memories over the years in trucks. My first memories of a truck goes back to an old green and white truck my grandfather had on his farm. I can remember this truck being so old that you could run your finger across the white paint and coming up with a white finger. After that one died, he got a Dodge Ram. Now not one of these new Rams with the rounded edges. This one was just a block laughing at concerns over MPG. I can remember riding in the back of that truck, feeling the wind blowing me about, looking up at the sky, and the thoughts of flying. Oh yes Virginia, there was a time when children rode in the back of pickups.&lt;br /&gt;I can remember sitting in that truck eating crackers, spam, sardines, and an onion because it was too cold to be deer hunting. I can remember the feeling of coming home from a fishing trip squashed in the middle of my grandfather and my dad; falling asleep as the Cardinals were playing baseball on the radio.&lt;br /&gt;The next big truck that I remember was in college. My roommate Drew had a Big Red Dodge Ram. It was a crew cab fit for young men in search of adventure. Man we got into a lot of fun with that old truck. I can remember a half a dozen different times either getting stuck in the mud or trying to get someone else out of the mud. I can remember showing up at church on a Sunday morning with wet waders, decoys, and a few dead ducks in the bed while we were changing into our sunday best in the cab!&lt;br /&gt;I can remember my friend caleb's family truck, another BIG RED. This was the official vehicle of deer camp. Since it was four wheel drive we could drive that thing up and down the hill to our campsite. I can remember how happy it made me to see that truck loaded down with gear and coolers for the weekend. It always made me feel like an adventure was about to happen.&lt;br /&gt;Then came my truck. My little Ranger. I have taken it offroad. I have had deer in the backend. I have hauled countless pieces of furniture in its bed. I have slept in that truck more times than I can remember.&lt;br /&gt;Trucks are just useful. For fun or work. One of the best days was a day when I had to help my sister move some stuff to college. I had been deer hunting that morning. I had gotten a deer, so I had to take the truck to the car wash so that my sister would not get blood on her mattress. See how useful a truck can be! Hunting and moving in the same day.&lt;br /&gt;When you have a truck, people become your best friend especially when they have something to move! I can remember when I asked Missy's parents if I could marry her. The next week the family was talking and Missy asked her dad if he was excited. He said he was just happy to now have a truck in the family. HA!&lt;br /&gt;One time I was living in an apartment complex. One day I was just hanging out when there was a knock at the door. There was this guy out there that said, " Hey, you don't know me but my wife and I just bought a new desk. We need to get it home and the apartment manager said she new that you had a truck. I was wondering if you could help me go pick up the desk from the store?" I thought for a second and said......OK!&lt;br /&gt;I have helped move countless friends. Missy and I seemed to have entered into quite a nomadic lifestyle considering we have now lived in three apartments in only two years of marriage. Yet with every move my truck comes in handy.&lt;br /&gt;Well this past year my truck received the best accessory it could ever dream of...a new canoe. I cannot begin to tell you how freakin sexy my truck looks with a canoe strapped to the top. When I drive with it people just look from other cars giving me a headnod. As if to say, "There goes a man who is ready for adventure. I wish I was coming with you."&lt;br /&gt;I know my truck will not last forever. I only hope there are more trucks in my future. I know that with each one will come all new stories to tell.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35869784-116613279766130983?l=sittingawhile.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sittingawhile.blogspot.com/feeds/116613279766130983/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35869784&amp;postID=116613279766130983&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35869784/posts/default/116613279766130983'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35869784/posts/default/116613279766130983'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sittingawhile.blogspot.com/2006/12/if-you-ever-need-pick-me-up-get-pick.html' title=''/><author><name>Kyle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06618645562478262369</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35869784.post-116527051053529849</id><published>2006-12-04T16:46:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-12-04T17:15:10.546-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/5523/3999/1600/176351/DSCF3555.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/5523/3999/320/972863/DSCF3555.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;RELAXATION: THE WONDERDRUG!&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I know it has been almost a month since my last post. I make no excuses only to say that my life has been pretty crazy lately. Not the kind of crazy where you have two tests, three papers, and a still have to go to work crazy, but the stay up all night worrying about the future crazy. Crossroads kind of stuff. What is the next step in this journey called life. The days are spent with thinking about "God's Will For My Life" kind of thoughts, and I must refrain from picking up Rick Warren's Purpose Driven Life. The answers are slow in coming. You read and reread passages from Job and the Psalms. Those passages about patience, hope, and waiting on the Lord.&lt;br /&gt;Well all was coming down pretty hard. My heart was broken by decisions beyond my control. Then I read a post by my good friend Brent over at Colossiansthreesixteen.com. His Nov. 27th post was from Psalm 46. You know the one. "Be Still and know that I am God." How many times have we heard that verse in times of strife,and yet how quickly we forget that command when the next wave of the storm comes rolling in. God has been faithful in the past and yet somehow our short memories forget this. We begin to think maybe God has forgotten about us. If God is teaching us a lesson, we sure are missing the point. All we see is the worry in front of us.&lt;br /&gt;Well this weekend I spent some time alone with my wife and two other couples. The men were able to do a little deer hunting and the women were able to catch up and do the arts and crafts type of fun that my wife has so taken to. There really was no agenda for the weekend. Just a time of fellowship at a lakehouse retreat.&lt;br /&gt;I think we all just needed to "get away for awhile." It was amazing how even in some of the down time between hunts there could be long periods of silence as good friends would share in moments of being still. Looking at the lake, watching two redtail hawks riding thermal updrafts, feeling the cold wind blow against your face, drinking good coffee that warmed all the way down, all of this for a moment was enough. Simply being was enough.&lt;br /&gt;I thank the Lord for moments of peace, I thank my wife for her patience in sharing the journey with me, and I thank my friends for the fellowship at critical rest stops on the road of life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35869784-116527051053529849?l=sittingawhile.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sittingawhile.blogspot.com/feeds/116527051053529849/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35869784&amp;postID=116527051053529849&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35869784/posts/default/116527051053529849'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35869784/posts/default/116527051053529849'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sittingawhile.blogspot.com/2006/12/relaxation-wonderdrug-so-i-know-it-has.html' title=''/><author><name>Kyle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06618645562478262369</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35869784.post-116310310208594279</id><published>2006-11-09T15:07:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-11-09T15:11:42.093-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5523/3999/1600/290270030_605bbb32bc.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5523/3999/320/290270030_605bbb32bc.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;SORRY NO BLOG TODAY!!!&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have much to do and the deadline is breathing down my neck! My entire future relies upon the next 72 hours. Okay well maybe not THAT serious, but pretty darn close! Maybe if I can make some head way then there will be a Food post tomorrow. Those always make me happy. 'Til then.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35869784-116310310208594279?l=sittingawhile.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sittingawhile.blogspot.com/feeds/116310310208594279/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35869784&amp;postID=116310310208594279&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35869784/posts/default/116310310208594279'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35869784/posts/default/116310310208594279'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sittingawhile.blogspot.com/2006/11/sorry-no-blog-today-i-have-much-to-do.html' title=''/><author><name>Kyle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06618645562478262369</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35869784.post-116300270083913302</id><published>2006-11-08T10:58:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-11-08T11:18:20.846-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5523/3999/1600/DSCF3017.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5523/3999/320/DSCF3017.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Gotta Go Wrestle This Beast!&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sorry there is not going to be more of a post today, but I am tired and have many miles to go before I sleep. This is just turning into quite a busy week and I need to get caught up on a few pressing items. I am preaching this weekend so you can remember me in prayer.&lt;br /&gt;Well it also looks as though the price of things will be going up over the next two years. With Democrats running the House there is sure to be a rise in the minimum wage. I still can't believe these yahoos keep trying to get votes by talking about improving the standard of living by raising the minimum wage. What's worse is poor people keep voting for them thinking their lives will be better.&lt;br /&gt;People People People! If a candy bar costs $.50 today, and the guy running the store pays you $5.15 an hour to sale said candy bar, then when the minimum wage goes up $.1o then the price of the candy bar goes up. The guy has to make up the difference somewhere, and he sure ain't gonna cut into his profits to pay you more! Hence the price goes up!!! Your standard of living has not changed one iota!!!&lt;br /&gt;Then there's the war! The war on terror! Remember 9/11!!! Cause it seems as though a lot of people have forgotten. War is tough, soldiers die, it's tragic, and yet Iraq is the right thing to do! They're gonna hang Saddam! He needed to be taken out of power as did Hitler. We need to stay the course.&lt;br /&gt;Okay I guess watching election results has got me in a frenzy!!! I really do need to go and do other things. So I am off! Hope you enjoy your day!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35869784-116300270083913302?l=sittingawhile.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sittingawhile.blogspot.com/feeds/116300270083913302/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35869784&amp;postID=116300270083913302&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35869784/posts/default/116300270083913302'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35869784/posts/default/116300270083913302'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sittingawhile.blogspot.com/2006/11/gotta-go-wrestle-this-beast-sorry.html' title=''/><author><name>Kyle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06618645562478262369</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35869784.post-116292776073113832</id><published>2006-11-07T14:01:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-11-07T14:29:20.746-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5523/3999/1600/P8070143.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5523/3999/400/P8070143.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;People Don't Change&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have heard this before from many people. This is a lie! Thank God people change!&lt;br /&gt;The first and most important change that a person can go through is changing our relationship to God. We are all born sinners, serperated from God. We seek our own desires and will always seek the pleasures of our flesh. We are sad unhappy beings trying to find meaning and a purpose in this life. After we come to Christ though, we become new creatures! Certainly there are hints of that old person there but the Holy Spirit is daily working to make us more Christlike and into the person that He would have us be. We think less of ourselves and more about what would bring Christ the most glory.&lt;br /&gt;Another change is simply just the maturing of life. The move from childhood to adolescence to college to adult. Now I will admit that these lines are very fuzzy in some people. It would also seem that many people are stuck in one of these stages even though the years keep rolling by, but eventually time will catch up. Desires start to change and responsibility grows.&lt;br /&gt;Anyway the picture you see above are all friends from college. I have done many outrageous things over the years with these guys. Seeing these guys brings back a lot of memories of a lot of STUPID things. The thing that really amazes me is to think about where we are all now and how we got here. We have had to bail each other out of some many crazy situations and yet in that picture you see a future doctor, lawyer, three ministers, a restaurant manager, and a teacher! Oh the places we have come from! I'll be the first to admit that for many men growing up comes with the presence of a woman upon the scene, but hey we did it didn't we!&lt;br /&gt;Congratulations guys! I am proud of you!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh and thanks Missy for marrying me so that I do not have to live in a cabin in the woods with one of these guys! HA! There was a time I would have loved nothing more, but I really like curling up with you every night instead!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35869784-116292776073113832?l=sittingawhile.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sittingawhile.blogspot.com/feeds/116292776073113832/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35869784&amp;postID=116292776073113832&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35869784/posts/default/116292776073113832'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35869784/posts/default/116292776073113832'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sittingawhile.blogspot.com/2006/11/people-dont-change-i-have-heard-this.html' title=''/><author><name>Kyle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06618645562478262369</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35869784.post-116282500844798754</id><published>2006-11-06T09:12:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-11-06T09:56:48.480-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5523/3999/1600/Picture006.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5523/3999/320/Picture006.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;The Weekend Harvest&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This weekend my friend Benji and I went hunting on a farm that he has permission to hunt on. We have been hunting there for a few weeks now, seeing a few deer here and there but nothing really encouraging. Then last Saturday we did a little scouting on a different part of the farm. There we found some really good sign.&lt;br /&gt;For those who do not know, bucks will rub their antlers on the bark of young trees in the fall when they feel their testosterone levels going up. This scratches the bark making sign typically known as a rub. They will also make a scrape. A scrape is an area where a buck will scrape the leaves away fro the ground leaving only bare ground. After standing over the bare spot, they will then urinate on their tarsal glands which are on the back of their legs. This will leave scent behind so that other deer will know that he is using this area. Typically there will also be a licking branch over the scrape.&lt;br /&gt;I know I know! This is really weird behavior, but seriously is it any weirder than any typical teenage boy when he feels the surge of testosterone rushing through his blood!? HA!&lt;br /&gt;Well last weekend we found some really good sign, a lot of good rubs in a row plus a couple of scrapes. We decided to hang some tree stands in this area and come back this Saturday. Benji would hunt the trail leading to the rubs, and I would hunt a nearby ridge that looked to be a good bedding area.&lt;br /&gt;Saturday morning we got up REALLY early and headed out. I got up in my stand and got settled. It was still too dark to see so I sat down. I soon heard what sounded like a herd of elephants moving through the thickets on top of the ridge but it was still too dark to see. It soon got a bit lighter as the sun was coming up. I checked to see whether or not I could even see the pins on my bow yet (if I can’t see the pins then I cannot know what I am aiming at). I couldn’t see the pins though, so I waited. I soon heard something coming my way from behind my stand. I turned to see the buck coming my way. I have a few places open enough to shoot an arrow, but I had one clearing that was really open. Well the buck headed right into the opening and stood. I drew my bow knowing that I may not be able to see my pins. My top pin is a green color. I looked through my peep sight. As soon as a saw a glimmer of green I let lose the arrow. It was a direct hit! The buck went down, before the morning even began.&lt;br /&gt;Since it was still early I stayed in the stand. An hour later a doe came right underneath my stand so I shot her as well. After she was down, Benji radioed and asked if we could stay a little longer. I said sure. I looked out into the field and there stood two HUGE does. They milled around for awhile but soon turned to head straight towards Benji. Five minutes later Benji radioed and asked if I was ready to work. He had gotten a doe as well!&lt;br /&gt;Well like he said, then the real work began. We had to drag the three deer out, skin them, clean them, and butcher them. It was a long process but with two people working we made fairly quick work of it. Now all that is left is to finish trimming the fat, cut the tenderloin, and grind the rest into burger.&lt;br /&gt;This takes care of meat for next year. I hope to get maybe one or two more because some deer jerky is QUITE a nice snack!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35869784-116282500844798754?l=sittingawhile.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sittingawhile.blogspot.com/feeds/116282500844798754/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35869784&amp;postID=116282500844798754&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35869784/posts/default/116282500844798754'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35869784/posts/default/116282500844798754'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sittingawhile.blogspot.com/2006/11/weekend-harvest-this-weekend-my-friend.html' title=''/><author><name>Kyle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06618645562478262369</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35869784.post-116257166131845944</id><published>2006-11-03T10:24:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-11-03T11:34:29.493-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5523/3999/1600/246354987_d9440f26c9.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5523/3999/320/246354987_d9440f26c9.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Epicurean Delight or Fish Bait?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's right it's Friday and time for another post about food! Today I think I will discuss one of my favorite foods in the world-sushi!&lt;br /&gt;Sushi is so good that I do not know even where to begin. But first let me address the obvious gagging that is going on in the room. That's right! I know some of you are already getting sick thinking of eating RAW FISH! I have heard all of the jokes. The most common is, "Hey fella, around here we call that Bait!" I understand the joke. I even think it is a little funny, but man what you are missing out on.&lt;br /&gt;I cannot remember the first time I had sushi. It must have been in college sometime. I just remember really wanting to try sushi. I mean I love trying new and adventurous foods, so raw fish was right up my alley. I got started eating sushi, as many do, by just having a roll of some type. This is when they take a bit of raw fish, some vegetables, and roll the whole thing in vinegar rice and seaweed. I loved it!&lt;br /&gt;The next step was to finally just eat large chunks of raw fish served on top of rice. The is when you really get to taste the flavor and the texture of the fish. The flavors are so mild yet taste really clean.&lt;br /&gt;Most sushi is served with a side of wasabi which is basically a type of ground horseradish that is made into a paste. This is the really HOTTTT stuff. You basically only need to tip your chopstick in this to get the desired flavor, any more and you overpower the taste of the sushi. Another typical side is soy sauce for dipping. This is also a flavor that can overpower the sushi so it needs to be used sparingly. Just a quick dip of the sushi piece is all that is needed. Lastly most sushi is served with a few strips of thinly sliced ginger root. Man I could eat me weight in this stuff. I absolutely LOVE ginger! If I understand right, though, the ginger is there to cleanse the palette so that a new flavor can be enjoyed. I don't know if I an using it correctly, but I always eat all of my ginger.&lt;br /&gt;This brings us to one of my most favorite dining experiences of my life. The problem with sushi is that there is A LOT of different varieties. I would love to try them all but sushi can get rather expensive if you try and eat very much at all. Well...that is until one day I noticed that there is a place here in Louisville that offers All-you-can-eat Sushi!!! Man I was so excited, but it was of course pretty expensive for them to let you just start piling on the sushi. Missy gave it to me one year as part of my birthday present. I know many of you think that eating ONE meal is a horrible waste of a birthday present, but this is me! I know you may think I should spend it on something that lasts for longer than just a hour or so, but trust me this memory will be with me for a lifetime!&lt;br /&gt;We have already discussed how my wife's tongue is broken. She does not like sushi. Of course that might have something to do with the fact that I gave her a whole glob of wasabi to eat, because she did not know what it was. This was when we were dating and she would trust me with anything. You can't expect someone to not have a little fun with a person THAT trusting. Man I miss those days! HA!&lt;br /&gt;Well anyway, she wanted me to experience the all-you-can-eat sushi but did not want to go herself. So we asked my friend Ashby to go. If an event involves food and the words "all-you-can-eat", then trust me you want Ashby to come along! The boy can hammer down some food! So we went, we ate, we CONQUERED! It was magnificent! It was great being able to just keep ordering different pieces of sushi at will. Plus we got to actually sit at the sushi bar and watch the artists do their thing! The guys that roll sushi are really awesome to watch. There is a lot of training that goes into rolling sushi and handling raw fish.&lt;br /&gt;Well this night I became the Fullest I have ever been. When I say full, I don' just mean "we had to unbutton the top of our pants" full. I mean at one point I was chewing on a bite thinking to myself, "I am gonna have to spit this thing out, because I can't swallow! There is no more room in my belly!" Needless to say we were both miserable the next day at work, but man was it worth it!&lt;br /&gt;So get out there and go try some fish bait!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35869784-116257166131845944?l=sittingawhile.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sittingawhile.blogspot.com/feeds/116257166131845944/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35869784&amp;postID=116257166131845944&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35869784/posts/default/116257166131845944'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35869784/posts/default/116257166131845944'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sittingawhile.blogspot.com/2006/11/epicurean-delight-or-fish-bait-thats.html' title=''/><author><name>Kyle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06618645562478262369</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35869784.post-116249046002155767</id><published>2006-11-02T12:31:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-11-02T13:01:00.033-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5523/3999/1600/DSCF3335.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5523/3999/320/DSCF3335.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;The Wandering Sheep&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All of us have one thing in common. We are all sinners in need of grace. That grace HAS been offered by a loving and sovereign God. We have only but to turn from our own path and towards the LORD.&lt;br /&gt;I know many people that read this blog have already accepted Christ, but do we all live like it. Do we live like people that have been ransomed? Do we live like people who were once lost but now found? Do we live with the daily thoughts that our sins have been forgiven?&lt;br /&gt;No! Most of us live with a lot of baggage. We let the weight of past and present sins cover us up with guilt and shame. What we are REALLY good at is helping others to remember their failures. Therefore no one in the church is living to their full potential. Those outside of the church see the church as a placed to be judged and condemned. This is not the gospel!!!&lt;br /&gt;Our Sovereign LORD sacrificed much so that we might be offered forgiveness and a new start. Let us live the life of new creatures! Let us seek repentance not only from God but from each other. By going to your brother and seeking forgiveness, the opportunity is there for you to both lay down some of your baggage. The healing can begin.&lt;br /&gt;One of my favorite songs telling the story of God's limitless love for His people is by Andrew Peterson.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;The Ninety and Nine&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;There were ninety and nine that safely layIn the shelter of the fold&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;But one was out on the hills awayFar off from the gates of gold&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Away on the mountains, wild and bare&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Away from the tender shepherd's care&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Away from the tender shepherd's care"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Lord, Thou hast here Thy ninety and nine&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Are they not enough for Thee"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;But the shepherd made answer"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;This of mine has wandered far from me&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;And though the road be rough and steep&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;I go to the desert to find my sheep&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;I go to the desert to find my sheep"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;But none of the ransomed ever knew&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;How deep were the waters crossed&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Nor how dark was the night that the Lord passed through&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Ere He found His sheep that was lost&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Out in the desert He heard its cry&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Sick and helpless and ready to die&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Sick and helpless and ready to die&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;But all through the mountains, thunder riven&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;And up from the rocky steep&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;There rose a glad cry at the gates of Heaven&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;"Rejoice, I have found my sheep!"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;And the angels echoed around the throne&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;"Rejoice for the Lord brings back His own!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Rejoice for the Lord brings back His own!"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35869784-116249046002155767?l=sittingawhile.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sittingawhile.blogspot.com/feeds/116249046002155767/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35869784&amp;postID=116249046002155767&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35869784/posts/default/116249046002155767'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35869784/posts/default/116249046002155767'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sittingawhile.blogspot.com/2006/11/wandering-sheep-all-of-us-have-one.html' title=''/><author><name>Kyle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06618645562478262369</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35869784.post-116239146550226955</id><published>2006-11-01T08:56:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-11-01T09:31:05.536-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5523/3999/1600/Superman%201.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5523/3999/320/Superman%201.0.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;It's A Bird! It's A Plane! It's My Nephew!&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last night was Halloween. I am NOT going to argue the point about whether or not Christians should celebrate Halloween or not. I know many of my good protestant friends celebrated Reformation Day as an alternative to Halloween. I guess that's perfectly fine, but really whatever floats your boat!&lt;br /&gt;Recently I have discussed the idea of being a kid, especially a little boy. One of the best parts of being a kid is the boundless realm of possibilities that come from an overactive imgination. I can honestly remember training in my backyard to be a superhero! I knew that one day my warrior skills would be called upon by the masses to save the world! Maybe I am still waiting on that day.&lt;br /&gt;These thoughts of becoming something larger than yourself are only strengthened by the process of putting on a costume. In a sense, you really dress the part. You can lose yourself in the character by the costume. Actors and little kids have long known this. Maybe we all incorporate this into our daily lives to a degree. We get dressed up before a big date knowing that if this relationship goes any further then the other person is going to have to see us one day as we really are with the messy hair, the stretchy sweatpants, and the old torn t-shirt. Yet we still put on the tie,as uncomfortable as it is. We all have those outfits that really do boost our confidence. I remember guys talking of their lucky boxers. It always kinda made me laugh thinking back to my superhero Underoos!&lt;br /&gt;I guess as a hunter my costume days still continue on. I love putting on my full camo(coveralls, facemask, gloves, the works)!!! I know that when I walk into a gas station to get the required coke and snack that I am gonna get some pretty weird looks from people. I really don't care, because I am a hunter! Hunters get pretty particular about their "costumes." Just look at the success of companies like Cabelas and Bass Pro Shops.&lt;br /&gt;So anyway, we all enjoy looking different. Escaping our normal routine for something a little more exciting. I guess that is the reason Halloween has survived as a holiday. Well that and all of the candy! Boy if you want to see a sight. Watch an almost two year old boy after he has had FOUR SUCKERS! The boy really does think he IS Superman!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35869784-116239146550226955?l=sittingawhile.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sittingawhile.blogspot.com/feeds/116239146550226955/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35869784&amp;postID=116239146550226955&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35869784/posts/default/116239146550226955'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35869784/posts/default/116239146550226955'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sittingawhile.blogspot.com/2006/11/its-bird-its-plane-its-my-nephew-last.html' title=''/><author><name>Kyle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06618645562478262369</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35869784.post-116230492606549249</id><published>2006-10-31T08:50:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-10-31T09:28:46.096-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5523/3999/1600/DSCF1241.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5523/3999/400/DSCF1241.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Standing in a River Waving a Stick&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;God must have invented fly-fishing to keep old hippies from getting rich or ruling the world. -John Gierach&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My good friend Kevin just got back from a weekend in the Smokies doing a little fall fly-fishing. To say that I was jealous is the understatement of the week. We have been discussing his adventure since he got back to work on Monday. He only caught a handful of fish, but that really wasn't the point of the trip.&lt;br /&gt;Anyone who has ever done any fly-fishing knows that the art has less to do with catching fish and more to do with creating something beautiful. It is about rhythm and poetry. Anyone who has ever tried to cast a fly farther than 10 feet knows what I am talking about. Timing is everything.&lt;br /&gt;Plus it is like someone, I think Jim Harrison, once said, "Trout do not live in ugly places." The scenery is most of the point in going. My trout adventures have taken me to some pretty remarkable spots. One of my favorites being the railroad bridge at the Caney Fork. Lots of memories there for sure.&lt;br /&gt;I can remember in the early days of learning. Any fish caught were just icing on the cake. I never had any trouble getting my roommate Short to tag along. He would spend awhile fishing, take a nap on the shore, and then many times tend to helping Frodo and Sam try and get the ring through Mordor. There was never any pressure to learn or to catch fish. It was just about being on the river, seeing the sun come up, the fog lifting, deer drinking just down stream, and then the sudden tug at the end of the line.&lt;br /&gt;I contend that fisherman are some of the few romantics left in this cynical world. No matter how bad the day was , the hope for tomorrow is ever strong. We can spin any day into a lesson learned or a trip to remember.&lt;br /&gt;So here's to the rest of you, especially my wife, who listen as we entertain delusions of something we hold to be magical and beautiful. We know you do not understand but thank you for letting us go and listening when we return. Our stories, our adventures they mean so much!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35869784-116230492606549249?l=sittingawhile.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sittingawhile.blogspot.com/feeds/116230492606549249/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35869784&amp;postID=116230492606549249&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35869784/posts/default/116230492606549249'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35869784/posts/default/116230492606549249'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sittingawhile.blogspot.com/2006/10/standing-in-river-waving-stick-god.html' title=''/><author><name>Kyle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06618645562478262369</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35869784.post-116222988892026546</id><published>2006-10-30T12:25:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-10-30T12:38:08.933-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5523/3999/1600/16137964_8e3c79bfba.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5523/3999/320/16137964_8e3c79bfba.0.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Harvest Time And a Day's Work&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So today Missy had a flat tire, we won't go into how it happened. Okay, a curb came out and jumped in front of her. Sorry sweetie, couldn't resist! HA!&lt;br /&gt;Well being the good husband that I am I went to change the tire. It wasn't much, but I felt good afterward. I know that this feeling will soon leave when we get the bill for the new tire but for now I feel good. I did a job, did it well, and looked down to see my hands dirty.&lt;br /&gt;In this world of academia and higher thought, it seems as though our once callused hands can grow soft. In the world of books I have noticed the extra pounds coming and have done little to fight them off. This is a sad state of affairs.&lt;br /&gt;There was a time I wanted nothing more than to work hard and come home everyday tired and dirty. My jobs through out high school and college involved landscaping, greenhouse work, and general labor. They were sweaty and beautiful jobs. As someone once said I found out that my hands really did fit a shovel.&lt;br /&gt;There is nothing like some manual labor to satisfy the soul. It is the beauty of using the body that the LORD has blessed us with. To knock the dust off our old bones and to stretch our muscles. To see a job from beginning to end is to share in the creative process that speaks to the image of God that lives in each of us. We were made for work and for creative endeavors.&lt;br /&gt;When I think about this I think of my grandfather, his garden, and his workshop. If retirement is about taking it easy, no one told him. He worked hard well into his latter days. In fact the hardest part about that last year was watching the strongest man I have ever known being reduced to nothing by the cancer. To see the workshop neglected and the garden unplanted was just a testimony to how the fight was nearly over and he was losing. Those were hard days.&lt;br /&gt;I think about him and his generation, the Depression, the wars, the work. These men knew about hard labor. Their mouths were fed by the sweat of their own brow.&lt;br /&gt;There was no need for gym memberships, dieting, public health warnings about obesity. And these were people cooking with LARD! We have lost so much. How sad. For all of our technological advances we have merely come up with more ways to do less.&lt;br /&gt;I once heard a comedian say that if you REALLY want to feel lazy then try explaining a drive-through window to a starving Ethiopian. "You mean not only do you not raise the livestock, kill it, clean it, butcher it, or cook it, but you don't even have to get out of your car for someone to bring it to you!"&lt;br /&gt;So get out their and rake some leaves, dig a hole, build something, chop some wood, take a walk, DO SOMETHING! Let our generation remember the feeling of a good days work. Let us remember that life is not what happens on Grey's Anatomy but what we DO with our days.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35869784-116222988892026546?l=sittingawhile.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sittingawhile.blogspot.com/feeds/116222988892026546/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35869784&amp;postID=116222988892026546&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35869784/posts/default/116222988892026546'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35869784/posts/default/116222988892026546'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sittingawhile.blogspot.com/2006/10/harvest-time-and-days-work-so-today.html' title=''/><author><name>Kyle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06618645562478262369</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35869784.post-116195864534750028</id><published>2006-10-27T10:00:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-10-29T22:26:42.086-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5523/3999/1600/menu_poblano_pesto.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5523/3999/400/menu_poblano_pesto.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Poblano Pesto Burrito&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Over the last few years there have been a lot of food chains popping up known as "fresh mex" type of restaurants. These are places that serve burritos and tacos but in a MUCH different way than say something like a Taco Bell or other Mexican restaurant. These type of places serve fresh ingredients as they prepare the creation there in front of you. The best of these is a chain here in Louisville known as Qdoba.&lt;br /&gt;My favorite thing there is the Poblano Pesto Burrito! The way they describe it is:Marinated grilled chicken with our Poblano Pesto sauce of roasted poblano peppers, cilantro, almonds and pine nuts. All of this is rolled up in this huge tortilla with rice, beans, salsa, sour cream, and cheese. It is so good sometimes I think of getting in the car to drive to Memphis just to SLAP MY MOMMA! No just kidding! I love you Momma! But boy is that burrito good.&lt;br /&gt;This thing is so BIG when they finish wrapping it up you think to yourself that there is NO WAY it will ever fit in your stomach. But then it hits your tongue! The guilty whispers of gluttony are pushed aside as you pound that bad boy down!&lt;br /&gt;Okay so NOW I am hungry. Have a good weekend everyone. Eat Well!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35869784-116195864534750028?l=sittingawhile.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sittingawhile.blogspot.com/feeds/116195864534750028/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35869784&amp;postID=116195864534750028&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35869784/posts/default/116195864534750028'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35869784/posts/default/116195864534750028'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sittingawhile.blogspot.com/2006/10/poblano-pesto-burrito-over-last-few.html' title=''/><author><name>Kyle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06618645562478262369</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35869784.post-116187303104186330</id><published>2006-10-26T09:51:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-10-29T22:24:49.516-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5523/3999/1600/092249r63_000.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5523/3999/320/092249r63_000.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;REAL MEN DON'T _____!&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Marshall: Why can't two men go to brunch together? When did brunch become girly? Breakfast isn't girly! Lunch isn't girly! So Why is brunch girly?!!!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Barney: Dude, a horn is manly and a horse is manly. Put them together, though, and you got yourself a unicorn!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;em&gt;"How I Met Your Mother"&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Okay so I have heard the real men do not eat quiche, and real men do not cry. Well I have tasted quiche. It's okay, not great, but okay. There are instances when a man might cry as well. This must be an extreme situation, like the death of a loved one. Crying because of pain well that's just right out! You Pansy!&lt;br /&gt;So these two do not always hold up. The reason I am writing today is to discuss something that has been troubling me for sometime........MEN WEARING PINK! You know you have seen them. Men out there wearing pink shirts and acting like NOTHING is wrong! This is unexceptable!&lt;br /&gt;Now I have tried to get to the bottom of this but have really never gotten a straight answer. I have asked friends about men wearing pink. Some people have said that it is okay for some men, because "They can pull something like that off." Why in the world would you want to pull something like that off? If I was super macho and wanted to wear a dress and lipstick, would people STILL say "Well he can pull that off."&lt;br /&gt;This is an important subject that must be addressed as we discuss the issue of recovering Biblical Manhood and Womanhood. There was a time when we could tell a man from a woman by the colors He or She wore. Now I am a firm believer that pastels of any sort have no business in a man's wardrobe. Maybe I can make an exception for some, but pink is RIGHT OUT! I mean what are you supposed to say to a man wearing a pink shirt? "Wow that sure is a PRETTY shirt?"&lt;br /&gt;Maybe this all stems from childhood when young boys were playing with there action figures. Maybe they thought their G.I. JOE needed a wife? So they went into their little sister's room to grab a Barbie. The next thing you know the kid is playing with a doll!&lt;br /&gt;Now some might say that I am insecure in my masculinity, but I am not the one wearing the pink shirt now am I?&lt;br /&gt;Some of you might ask if I am being a hypocrite. You may say that the argument could be made that men should have short hair and women long hair. Since there have been periods of my life when I have had long hair, it would seem that I was being rather girly. Well my response is this: In the movie Braveheart we see MEN with long hair and wearing dresses(kilts really) waging war and being extremely tough. The movie is awesome, and every man rages and beats his chest. NOW imagine William Wallace and his band of warrior poets fighting the English wearing pink! IT JUST DOESN"T WORK!&lt;br /&gt;I do not hold that men can be metrosexuals. Well they can, but I am gonna still make fun of them!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35869784-116187303104186330?l=sittingawhile.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sittingawhile.blogspot.com/feeds/116187303104186330/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35869784&amp;postID=116187303104186330&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35869784/posts/default/116187303104186330'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35869784/posts/default/116187303104186330'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sittingawhile.blogspot.com/2006/10/real-men-dont-marshall-why-cant-two.html' title=''/><author><name>Kyle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06618645562478262369</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35869784.post-116181038499818695</id><published>2006-10-25T16:38:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-10-26T08:38:12.350-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5523/3999/1600/cup.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5523/3999/320/cup.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;THE JAVA LOG&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So in the spirit of my last post, I will again be discussing fire. This time though in a most interesting way. This will be my first product review on my blog.&lt;br /&gt;WELL...&lt;br /&gt;I am all for the three "R's" of conservation(reduce, reuse, recycle) but today Sean and I came across a product that took that philosophy to a WHOLE new level. This guy has taken used coffee grounds from the billions of coffeehouses around the nation and mixed them with wax to form one of those firelogs that you are supposed to burn in your fireplace to have a romantic evening if you have no wood and firebuilding skills whatsoever.&lt;br /&gt;Well Sean and I, being coffee lovers, just HAD to see this for ourselves. We went to our local organic market, okay seriously who else would sell something like this, and bought us a Java Log.&lt;br /&gt;We went and burned the log in Sean's firebowl out in his back yard. Well considering I have had limited experience with firelogs in general( I know how to gather wood), I cannot say how this compares with its compeditors such as Duraflame. I do know that for a bunch of old coffee this thing burned for a good two hours. It is supposed to be better for the environment because of fewer pollutants, but I could not really comment on that. I do know that you could put your face straight in the smoke and not come up coughing like a pack-a-day smoker.&lt;br /&gt;So I guess the experience was a pleasant one. I would recommend this product for someone who has extremely low testosterone levels and does not want to learn basic firebuilding. Who knows the ladies might even be impressed that you know how to light a bag on fire!&lt;br /&gt;But for me I will continue to use WOOD in my fires and know that coffee grounds belong in the compost pile.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35869784-116181038499818695?l=sittingawhile.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sittingawhile.blogspot.com/feeds/116181038499818695/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35869784&amp;postID=116181038499818695&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35869784/posts/default/116181038499818695'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35869784/posts/default/116181038499818695'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sittingawhile.blogspot.com/2006/10/java-log-so-in-spirit-of-my-last-post.html' title=''/><author><name>Kyle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06618645562478262369</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35869784.post-116161149551606259</id><published>2006-10-23T09:21:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-10-23T09:51:35.530-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5523/3999/1600/fig7-5.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5523/3999/320/fig7-5.png" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;TO BUILD A FIRE&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;In a clump of pines on the rim of the bank the spring high-water had lodged many twigs and small branches. Thoroughly dried by the summer sun, they now waited the match.&lt;br /&gt;It is impossible to build a fire with heavy Alaskan mittens on one's hands, so Vincent bared his, gathered a sufficient number of twigs, and knocking the snow from them, knelt down to kindle his fire. From an inside pocket he drew out his matches and a strip of thin birch bark. The matches were of the Klondike kind, sulphur matches, one hundred in a bunch.&lt;br /&gt;He noticed how quickly his fingers had chilled as he separated one match from the bunch and scratched it on his trousers. The birch bark, like the dryest of paper, burst into bright flame. This be carefully fed with the smallest twigs and finest debris, cherishing the flame with the utmost care. It did not do to hurry things, as he well knew, and although his fingers were now quite stiff, he did not hurry. -Jack London "To Build A Fire"&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Today my friend Kevin and I discussed the art of fire building. My friends and I have long said that one of the marks of a true outdoorsman was the ability to light a one match fire. On campouts we would act as if we were in a survival situation just to see if we could get a fire going with a single match. Over time we became confident of our ability and the test of manhood had been passed. After this we got lazy. We then would incorporate many different ways to cheat to get a fire going quickly, namely gobs of paper, fuel of some sort, and lighters. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;One thing never changed. This was the discussion of the best type of fire to build. One friend was a log cabin type of guy, another a lean to, and still another a tepee. We would sit around and discuss the merits and shortcomings of each type. Mainly it all boiled down to "How we were Taught." It is a fun debate, especially while watching the wood burn. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Well the days are getting colder. Campfires are becoming more and more attractive to think of. I love gathering firewood, piling it nearby, so that later one must make minimal movements throughout the might to keep the blaze going. A fire is such a humbling thing of beauty. We take so much for granted and that point is never so real than when we leave our homes to sit next to a fire on a REALLY cold night. It is mesmerizing to watch a once great log being reduced to smoldering coals. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;If you think that I may be romanticizing something as simple as a fire, you really should read some Aldo Leupold. He speaks of how rewarding it is to store up wood. There is nothing more appealing than well seasoned wood. One of my favorite ideas that he writes of is the idea that the trees are storing up the heat and light of the sun, so that he can one day release them in his fire. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;So though your clothes may "stink" for awhile. (I personally like the smell) In this fall season enjoy the comfort of a fire whether it be around a campfire, a bonfire, or in a fireplace. Be sure to bring along some friends and maybe a few marshmallows. Oh and a coffepot for some REALLY strong campfire coffee. Black of course!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35869784-116161149551606259?l=sittingawhile.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sittingawhile.blogspot.com/feeds/116161149551606259/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35869784&amp;postID=116161149551606259&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35869784/posts/default/116161149551606259'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35869784/posts/default/116161149551606259'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sittingawhile.blogspot.com/2006/10/to-build-fire-in-clump-of-pines-on-rim.html' title=''/><author><name>Kyle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06618645562478262369</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35869784.post-116134977877694618</id><published>2006-10-20T08:38:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-10-22T17:17:33.156-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5523/3999/1600/274455395_798b97f8f3_o.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5523/3999/320/274455395_798b97f8f3_o.0.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;GOAT CHEESE:THE CRACK COCAINE OF THE DAIRY WORLD!&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well first off let me go ahead and say that a lot of the blogs I visit have a theme for Fridays. Last Friday I spoke on meat. I have decided that Friday's blog will now be devoted to one of my favorite subjects...FOOD!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay so now to the post at hand. The first time I had goat cheese was at a restaurant in Memphis called Bosco's. My aunt got some as an appetizer. She let me try some, and I was hooked. It was a creamy goodness that is probably illegal in some places in the world, but I was able to delight in the bounty of the goat.&lt;br /&gt;Okay STOP IT! I can already see your nose starting to turn up now. "Eww! That's Gross!" Don't knock it 'til you tried it baby! I know that by looking at a goat one would question whether anything good could ever come from such an animal. But in reality they are extremely useful. Many cultures eat the meat, though America has not picked up on that one yet. In fact it is one of the few domestic meats I have yet to try. There has just been little opportunity. Edward Abbey writes about roasting a goat in his backyard once with his Cuban neighbors. The way he described it I woud have been begging for more.&lt;br /&gt;Okay back to the cheese. It really is THAT good! It is a soft cheese that is mild in flavor but can be strong at times. My recent taste came from the Bardstown Rd. Farmers Market here in Louisville. There is a goat cheese guy there. He has this little table and will tell you all about the cheeses he has. The best part, though, is that the whole time he is talking to you he is serving up samples on crackers. I was in heaven.&lt;br /&gt;The best variety was this one called O'Banon. It is goat cheese that has been wrapped in chesnut leaves that have been soaked in Bourbon. He told me that the Chesnut wrapper is a French thing, but they usually use a type of white wine I believe. Since this is KY, he decided to use bourbon. Boy am I glad he did! It really was a festival of flavor in my mouth! I bought some, though Missy thought it crazy to spend that much on cheese. Of course she does not like goat cheese, because my wife's tongue is broken.&lt;br /&gt;One day I WILL have a farm and on that farm I 'll have some goats with a cheese cheese here and a cheese cheese there! Here a cheese! There a cheese! Everywhere a cheese cheese!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35869784-116134977877694618?l=sittingawhile.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sittingawhile.blogspot.com/feeds/116134977877694618/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35869784&amp;postID=116134977877694618&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35869784/posts/default/116134977877694618'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35869784/posts/default/116134977877694618'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sittingawhile.blogspot.com/2006/10/goat-cheesethe-crack-cocaine-of-dairy.html' title=''/><author><name>Kyle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06618645562478262369</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35869784.post-116126900500285666</id><published>2006-10-19T10:14:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-10-20T08:32:33.663-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5523/3999/1600/DSCF1240.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5523/3999/320/DSCF1240.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;SOMETHING MORE THAN SONG LYRICS&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;It isn't what she's got to say but how she thinks and where she's been.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;To me, the words are nice, the way they sound.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;I like to hear them best that way, it doesn't much matter what they mean.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;She says them mostly just to calm me down.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;-James Taylor&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Lately some friends and I have been discussing the value of reading poetry. Yes poetry! I know this coming from the guys who likes to get dirty and eat meat! Seriously though, poetry is a way of using words that express ideas in interesting ways. If there is a difference between the educated of yesterday and the educated of today, it is that man today does not know how to read poetry. This is a shame! For the Christian this is a real handicap considering so much of Scripture is written in poetry. How are we to understand some of the prophets when we are much too literal of thinkers?&lt;br /&gt;I know that sometimes poetry is hard. It sometimes takes more than one reading. The best tip I can give you is that poetry is to be read aloud. Follow punctuation, pause when appropriate, find the rhythm, and just read aloud. The words were chosen not only for their meaning but also for how they sound.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So here is some Wordsworth. Those who have seen A River Runs Through It will recognize the latter part as the father and son quoting dual, one of my favorite parts.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And O ye Fountains, Meadows, Hills, and Groves,&lt;br /&gt;Forebode not any severing of our loves!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a name="193"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Yet in my heart of hearts I feel your might;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a name="194"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I only have relinquish'd one delight&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a name="195"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;To live beneath your more habitual sway.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a name="196"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I love the brooks which down their channels fret,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a name="197"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Even more than when I tripp'd lightly as they;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a name="198"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;The innocent brightness of a new-born Day&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a name="199"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Is lovely yet;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a name="200"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;The clouds that gather round the setting sun&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a name="201"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Do take a sober colouring from an eye&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a name="202"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;That hath kept watch o'er man's mortality;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a name="203"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Another race hath been, and other palms are won.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a name="204"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Thanks to the human heart by which we live,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a name="205"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Thanks to its tenderness, its joys, and fears,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a name="206"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;To me the meanest flower that blows can give&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a name="207"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Thoughts that do often lie too deep for tears.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a name="208"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35869784-116126900500285666?l=sittingawhile.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sittingawhile.blogspot.com/feeds/116126900500285666/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35869784&amp;postID=116126900500285666&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35869784/posts/default/116126900500285666'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35869784/posts/default/116126900500285666'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sittingawhile.blogspot.com/2006/10/something-more-than-song-lyrics-it.html' title=''/><author><name>Kyle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06618645562478262369</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35869784.post-116119486251446653</id><published>2006-10-18T13:26:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-10-19T10:47:51.250-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5523/3999/1600/Alecton_giant_squid_1861.png"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5523/3999/320/Alecton_giant_squid_1861.png" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;A SMALL BORING WORLD&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This past week we learned that the population of the United States has reached the 3oo Million mark. The population of the World is somewhere over 6.5 billion. We live in THE most technologically advanced time in human history. We have electron microscopes that can see things that are almost down to the elemental levels. We have telescopes that can see further in to the universe than ever. We have mapped the entire planet, even stepped on the moon. The age of exploration and wonder must be dead. We have been there/seen that!&lt;br /&gt;WRONG!&lt;br /&gt;There are still wonderful things out there left to find! We have not seen it all!&lt;br /&gt;With all of our technology and advancements we have only recently taken a picture of a LIVE giant squid. We have known for decades that they existed. They have been the thing of myth for centuries. We know that they existed because we have found dead ones in fishing nets and washing up on the shore. But they seemed to just appear at times to mock us. For all of our science, we could never document a live specimen. When I say giant, I mean it! These things are massive and one would think not easy to miss. There were men that sought these creatures with an Ahab type of intensity only to come up empty handed.&lt;br /&gt;Finally after many tries a team that was studying whales South of Japan captured the first pictures of a Live Giant Squid.&lt;br /&gt;This is not the only story. Recently a man canoeing through an Arkansas wilderness area saw a bird that the experts thought had been extinct for decades. This bird is called the Ivory Billed Woodpecker, or the Lord God Bird. It is the largest member of the woodpecker family. These things are HUGE! There huge and we thought they were extinct! But then all of a sudden here on pops up. There are now teams that are researching and still LOOKING for the bird.&lt;br /&gt;I tell you this to say. There is still wonder out there! Still things that can make us go WOW! My father was a National Geographic subscriber for years. One of my favortite things about the monthly magazine were the new species that were added seemingly every month. Here in 2006 we are STILL adding species to the list of known animals. AMAZING!&lt;br /&gt;The LORD's Creation is not boring. He will continually amaze and humble us with it. We are stewards of a planet we still know so little about.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35869784-116119486251446653?l=sittingawhile.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sittingawhile.blogspot.com/feeds/116119486251446653/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35869784&amp;postID=116119486251446653&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35869784/posts/default/116119486251446653'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35869784/posts/default/116119486251446653'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sittingawhile.blogspot.com/2006/10/small-boring-world-this-past-week-we.html' title=''/><author><name>Kyle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06618645562478262369</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35869784.post-116109095352745372</id><published>2006-10-17T09:08:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-10-17T09:15:53.536-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5523/3999/1600/DSCF0432.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5523/3999/320/DSCF0432.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;NO PROFOUND THOUGHTS TODAY!!!&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well today there are no profound thoughts from me. I am going to grab a quick nap and then it is off to the woods. I am going hunting this afternoon. There has been a big buck that has been eluding me lately, and hopefully he is enjoying his final day on earth as I type this blog. Hopefully sometime this evening my arrow will find him. So no more thoughts on Creation and adventure, today I go to enjoy myself! Wish me luck! Pray that the LORD will once again bless my family with meat.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35869784-116109095352745372?l=sittingawhile.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sittingawhile.blogspot.com/feeds/116109095352745372/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35869784&amp;postID=116109095352745372&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35869784/posts/default/116109095352745372'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35869784/posts/default/116109095352745372'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sittingawhile.blogspot.com/2006/10/no-profound-thoughts-today-well-today.html' title=''/><author><name>Kyle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06618645562478262369</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35869784.post-116100503841898153</id><published>2006-10-16T08:26:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-10-16T17:58:49.570-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5523/3999/1600/214296961_bf1ab1d59c_o.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5523/3999/320/214296961_bf1ab1d59c_o.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;What are Little Boys Made of?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;What are little boys made of?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Snips and snails,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;And puppy dog tails,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;That's what little boys are made of.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This past weekend my uncle and cousin were in from New Jersey. My cousin brought her son, Nathan with her. He is four years old and ALL boy! Seeing him this past weekend reminded me of what being a little boy is all about.&lt;br /&gt;He had two new experiences this weekend. First he was taken to a lake to catch fish. He caught six and has since told EVERYONE about the experience. One was even a pretty nice size catfish. Of course he wanted to throw all of the fish back, so they could be with their families. I guess he hasn't read my previous blog entry!!!&lt;br /&gt;His other new experience was climbing a tree. Man I was jealous!!! To be a small boy and to feel how big the world can feel in the top of a tree...oh to be young! He did not climb very high or in a particularly large tree, but the smile said it all. Those days are past for me. I am pushing 260 and can only climb a tree unless a safety harness and tree stand are involved.&lt;br /&gt;My other trip down memory lane happened a few months age when Missy and I were visiting our friends Brent and Kristi in Texas. They have three boys. If you need to learn about the world of a little boy, their house is a good place to start. We stayed with them for a couple of days. Brent and Kristi would keep asking whether we were okay, because Missy and I would just sit there for long periods of time. In all honesty we were amazed to watch the day to day life of our friend's household. To say that Kristi manages chaos would be an understatement. There is ALWAYS something moving and going in that house. Now I am NOT saying that these boys are misbehaving or are undisciplined, quite the contrary! They know their right from wrong. What I am saying is that there is more imagination and energy flowing under that roof than few places I have ever been.&lt;br /&gt;The best example was the second night we were there. The boys had a little friend spend the night!!! Well two of them were playing downstairs with some cars. All of a sudden, the other boy comes FLYING down the stairs and runs into the room where the other two are. He screams, "GUYS, COME ON! I'VE FOUND THE SECRET TREASURE CHEST!!!" Now I was amazed at the level of this boy's imagination, but was unprepared for what happened next. The other two boys, as if on cue, dropped their cars and sprinted up the stairs following the instigator. They simply adopted this boy's imaginary world as their own in a matter of seconds.&lt;br /&gt;I guess that is what I miss, the instant adventure. You never know what the next moment might hold. A lot of people have always described me as being very spontaneous. I guess I have always just seen myself as holding on to something that I don't want to let go of from my childhood. Missy has gotten pretty used to the spur of the moment hunting and fishing trips, small unplanned adventures that hold a world of possibility and wonder!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here is to the little boy still left in all of us:&lt;br /&gt;Slaying the dragons,&lt;br /&gt;Flying through space,&lt;br /&gt;Shooting the bad guys,&lt;br /&gt;and just simply playing in the mud&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35869784-116100503841898153?l=sittingawhile.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sittingawhile.blogspot.com/feeds/116100503841898153/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35869784&amp;postID=116100503841898153&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35869784/posts/default/116100503841898153'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35869784/posts/default/116100503841898153'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sittingawhile.blogspot.com/2006/10/what-are-little-boys-made-of-what-are.html' title=''/><author><name>Kyle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06618645562478262369</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35869784.post-116075166239534475</id><published>2006-10-13T10:23:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-10-13T11:01:02.663-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5523/3999/1600/DSCF3461.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5523/3999/320/DSCF3461.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;There is No Such Thing as The Meat Fairy&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Nothing dies easily in the woods. Animals perish, with or without our help. Most of them die violently and painfully, perhaps in the talons of a hawk, in the jaws of a coyote or as a victim of starvation or disease. My kill is quick and humane. And make no mistake, hunting by humans is natural. Man has always hunted. Don't let anyone convince you otherwise. Jim Zumbo&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Where does our meat come from? Is there really a part of the chicken shaped like a boot or an egg to make the McNuggets? Is that all beef patty really all beef?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The subject of meat is today's topic. We are a culture that has lost our connection to the earth. We get our food in restaurants or grocery stores. We think nothing of the origin of our food.&lt;br /&gt;Since I was a boy, I have been raised as a hunter and a fisherman. I know more about the subject than some. I have eaten from the bounty of my own hands and the Lord's provision. I have faced ridicule from many claiming that it is barbaric and cruel. These assessments not from vegans or PETA, but from friends and family that are themselves carnivores. As if to kill and butcher a deer is barbaric, while the unseen cows may die a death that must be noble. The truth is that many is our culture have placed the messy job of preparing meat in the hands of other men. In doing so many have forgotten what all goes into their meals. They think nothing of the farmer's long days, nothing of the butcher's bloody hands, nothing of the fishermen's weeks at sea. The meat is just always there when we need it. Either already prepared or in a cellophane wrap ready to cook.&lt;br /&gt;I am not asking that everyone take up hunting and fishing. I am asking that everyone think about what all goes into bringing meat to the table. A life was lost. A sacrifice was made. Blood was split. We should not feel guilty about this for the Bible says,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;And God blessed Noah and his sons and said to them, Be fruitful and multiply and fill the earth. The fear of you and the dread of you shall be upon every beast of the earth and upon every bird of the heavens, upon everything that creeps on the ground and all the fish of the sea. Into your hand they are delivered. Every moving thing that lives shall be food for you. And as I gave you the green plants, I give you everything.&lt;/em&gt; Genesis 9:1-3&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But if you have ever killed something then you know that there is a sadness there. What was once alive is now dead. I cannot explain it. It is just there. Some might say that it has to do with the Fall and that death was not what was originally planned for this world. When we see death it leaves us longing for the next world where there will be no death. I don't know. Maybe.&lt;br /&gt;I do know that meat is good. I like it. Our bodies were made for it. We have incisors good for cutting and gnawing. Our bodies require amino acids only found in meat. And it taste good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As long as the procurment of the meat is ethical and humane, I say enjoy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35869784-116075166239534475?l=sittingawhile.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sittingawhile.blogspot.com/feeds/116075166239534475/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35869784&amp;postID=116075166239534475&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35869784/posts/default/116075166239534475'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35869784/posts/default/116075166239534475'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sittingawhile.blogspot.com/2006/10/there-is-no-such-thing-as-meat-fairy.html' title=''/><author><name>Kyle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06618645562478262369</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35869784.post-116066957817589317</id><published>2006-10-12T11:15:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-10-13T08:55:12.200-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5523/3999/1600/201482748_e211273e6b.2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5523/3999/320/201482748_e211273e6b.2.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Thoughts from a Deer stand (Just kidding Sean!)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This morning Louisville awoke to unseasonably low temperatures. Tonight they are saying that we may have our first frost. This is amazing since Tuesday I was swatting mosquitoes and sweating while sitting in the deer stand. The best part of this morning was when I walked Missy out to her car to say goodbye as she left for work. She said, "Hey Look at the geese!" Well I glanced up with little enthusiasm. We see geese everyday. Our apartment complex has a small pond and is always filled with ducks and geese. Well today was special. We saw "V" after "V" after "V." (Geese fly in a "V" formation for all those out there who have very little natural contact) Well it seems that this massive cold air from tho north has pushed down our first wave of waterfowl from the great northern plains. It was great because we saw about a hundred geese in all and they were flying low, just above the roof tops.&lt;br /&gt;This morning was a blessing. It says summer is over! Fall is on its way. The leaves are starting to really change here as well. Everyday brings new colors. There is a distinct nip in the air as some would say. Everywhere we look the season is changing!&lt;br /&gt;Today's assignment is this: Go outside...yes I know it maybe cold where you are, just put on some warm clothes!!! We serve a Creator that declares His own glory through His creation. This creation is not static. It is ever changing. The seasons remind us a lot about life, rebirth in the spring/death in the fall. There is a reason people refer to the autumn of life.&lt;br /&gt;This is a season of harvest and celebration! This morning before work Missy and I were hollowing out the innards of a pumpkin she had bought. Tonight I will enjoy some roasted pumpkin seeds. The smell of cinnamon is in the air(Right Kevin?)&lt;br /&gt;The days will grow shorter. The days will grow colder. The world will begin to look gloomy to some. But we will begin appreciate our warm clothes, our warm homes, and our warm food. Let us not let this season pass us by unnoticed!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For Seasonal Reading: A Sand County Almanac by Aldo Leopold&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35869784-116066957817589317?l=sittingawhile.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sittingawhile.blogspot.com/feeds/116066957817589317/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35869784&amp;postID=116066957817589317&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35869784/posts/default/116066957817589317'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35869784/posts/default/116066957817589317'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sittingawhile.blogspot.com/2006/10/thoughts-from-deer-stand-just-kidding.html' title=''/><author><name>Kyle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06618645562478262369</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35869784.post-116059669000639950</id><published>2006-10-11T15:42:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-10-12T12:16:28.676-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5523/3999/1600/DSCF0568.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5523/3999/400/DSCF0568.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is my blog. I have long said that I was gonna start this journey into the world of blogging...well here goes nothing. This is hopefully going to just be a place for me to share ideas with new and old friends. Discussion is encouraged! This blog is hopefully going to have a sort of front porch feel, well as much as you can have while sitting staring a a screen!!! Any topic is fair game and rabbits will continually be chased. If you have never heard me tell a story then let me warn you now, GET COMFORTABLE! I have long believed that good storytelling is in the details. And so with that we are off...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35869784-116059669000639950?l=sittingawhile.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sittingawhile.blogspot.com/feeds/116059669000639950/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35869784&amp;postID=116059669000639950&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35869784/posts/default/116059669000639950'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35869784/posts/default/116059669000639950'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sittingawhile.blogspot.com/2006/10/this-is-my-blog.html' title=''/><author><name>Kyle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06618645562478262369</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry></feed>
