an elk rib rack frenched
pinot noir
garlic
slab bacon
pearl onions
tomato paste
mushrooms
celery
red bell pepper
cayeene pepper
thyme bay leaves
carrots
brown all edges of the elk in olive oil
allow to cool
add wine and salt
Mccormick seasoning
all to marinade for three hours
in a dutch oven
add oilve oil 5 T.
cook bacon !/2done
(1/2 raw add lastly)
sautee carrots, celery,
red bell pepper
add mushrooms and
remove from heat
and add the rib roast
pour in wine
add one cup of water
pearl onions
thyme and bay leaves
add tomato paste
season with more McCormick's
cook for 3 hours at 350.
make a gravy and mash potato's
-----------------------------------------
serve with a grilled veggie salad with goat cheese
and garlic bread
Every Irishman is a liar
My mother was a McCormick
I say nothing
Every Pollock is an imbecile
My father’s family was from Poland
I keep quiet
Every successful woman slept her way to the top
I am biting my lip so hard now it is bleeding
I finally have to leave
but not without changing my position
This used to be my hero
Now to me he is a zero
they come with offerings, various talents, and mirth
Congregating on holy ground, in middle earth
Their determinations is noted, their unity is keen
No room for pettiness, bullies or anything in the least mean.
They are a united front, seeking spirits from the magic tree
There is an agreed silence, that comforts and gives hope to me
I am a McCormick, from a long line of witches who never cease
Sighs come from my heart upon approach, I am at peace.
I am hungry for spaghetti today
no Italian in me, but this does not sway
my McCormick Irish and English Stone say
spaghetti it is, being eclectic is okay
at birth, my grandson Jack’s eyes were amber like a wolves
his hair had a tinge of ginger that gave him a look of mischief
I had never seen such eyes, but the hair was familiar
My mother was a McCormick; the Irish have lots of redheads
People commented on the hair but not the eyes
Did they not notice those wolf-like orbs? I could not believe it
I guess redheads are rare, that is the impression I had.
I now dye my hair a red shade called burgundy; I adore it.
I wish it would grow out the right color, but alas,
It is growing out white, so I look like a skunk when it is time to dye
My grandson’s eyes have changed to a darker brown,
but he still has that lovely tinge that people marvel about.
I am a merry me frisky fey a tiny man bragged to me
Please join me at my explosive enjoyable revelry
A jollity in his overzealous ambiance was brighter than I had ever seen
Magical merriment and meshugga craziness was about to convene
Are you a leprechaun? I asked the adorable trickster, right away
Name’s McCindlesticks and I’m Celtic Irish, all the ever-loving day
That was good enough for me, being the daughter of a McCormick.
I am a bit Irish myself, and not easy to fool, cajole or trick.
Donald was born in a tough family
It was beyond tough love, it was violent
He learned to put up his dukes before he was two
always getting struck down hard by a brother
He had six of them and they were scrappers
His parents did not interfere, it was their family’s normal
when he got to school he trusted no one
came in fighting and scrapping
his teacher was seasoned
she was used to the McCormick boys
she had been teaching them for over thirty years
they trusted no one
It would take Donald a long time to trust her too
She knew this, but trusted that it would eventually happen
It always happened about May
Sadly, the last month of kindergarten
Next year he would be in another teacher’s class
trusting no one
a new rough start
he was a McCormick boy
it was his way of life….
Fee-got sew high I say
Man they tryna hem me so
I can't ah-ford nuttin.
I spent ah day in Allen Acres
Bay'd em breakfast
in e sand anna
I installo de cmaera sercur'ems
for de peep-lez.
I say ya'll use dez thangs to set up
quotin the 1933 security act
to create a stage between tensionated peeplez.
ya'll make fussy and nem auge.
I put a plate of cookies
on the table
and fan'd the amora toward the
weight watchers camp
don't I expect the to see
the wihhling dieters
comin ov'r de fence?
Zirpossa? Nah dat aint ritw no!
Caul Musky ya'll hearez us say!
Man told me put the camera on my brand new
McCormick tractor
I laughed sounded all funny
with his ole north accent. I say:
man ya'll be plowin and diskin
why ya'll knead ah-ruh camera?
Told me the rowes of hoes
only the wife know's.
I say yes sir@!
Yes sir!
Ya'll might be encitin ah roit!
none of the McCormicks knew which insect had made the crying sounds
odd since usually every McCormick is an expert about thirty-nine things
I know because my mother and her sixty-two sisters are all McCormicks
Some of the McCormicks do not bother to marry, cannot find ample fodder.
Is this ample enough? Cousin Lewt asked, dragging a McCormick home.
Isn’t he your cousin? Asked sixteen McCormicks. I sat quietly for once.
Wanting to see another beat down or put down at a McCormick reunion.
Daddy, who was a Stone gave me a wink; he was feeling smug too.
The Stone reunion is famous for brawls, fights, and police reports.
PS spoiler alert, the crying sounds were noises from a long-horned beetle.
Played on the accordion located between her front and back legs.
Even I with my magnificent imagination, cannot make this crap up.
The McCormick family loves wheels
We like bikes, trikes, mopeds and motorcycles
We like Fords, Chevys, Lincolns and Cadillacs.
We are also racers.
Others watch the Indianapolis 500
We like driving like we just left the pit crew.
Our ancestors started us on this journey.
We were having a race on Wednesday
When grandma got on a moped.
I am going to outrun these cycles! She said.
“Let grandma win! Let grandma win! “ we all yelled.
Unfortunately, the little McCormicks are competitive like us.
They outrode, outraced and outran grandma.
The last one to the finish line, she pouted all day.
I pick up the phone and call Debbie
We are twelve years old instantly
Even though that was fifty years ago
We laugh and learn a little bit
Our history is rich with stories and fun
I tell her I have been praying for her
She says she appreciates it
She has had a triple bypass surgery
I am not finished with my phone calls of the day
I talk to my friends on speaker while I paint.
Marianne is my next call, we are besties.
Have been for over twenty-six years
I tell her stories, she tells me stories.
We laugh at the right times.
Recalling things we did and how much fun it was.
Want to meet me at a restaurant in thirty-minutes?
Heck yes! I say, and hit the road.
On the way I dial Lisa. She is one of my newer friends.
We have only known each other for four years.
But we are close.
We discovered that our relatives were named McCormick.
They came to the USA from Cork County, Ireland the same year.
We were both raised in Disciples of Christ church.
We know what Chi Rho means.
I talk to her all the way to Marianne.
When you become one of my friends, it is for life.
Like a puppy, I fall in love with our friendship
and I never let you go.
I am a painting factory
cranking out eight to ten canvases a week
it is my gemini mentality
it is my high mccormick energy
I am a poetry factory
slapping out seventy poems a week
it is my iowa roots
it is what I know how to do
I am a cartoon factory
scribbling down eight cartoons a day
it is my cross to bear
I blame my mother, the energizer bunny
I am an acrylic painter who cannot live without a variety of greens.
Green grass, green trees, green leaves, green moss, green clover.
I thought I was out of my favorite color of green yesterday.
My muse said “what about that box of green paints behind you?”
This saved me a trip to the store for there were three full tubes of it.
Green is such a nature color, I cannot fathom not having it around.
Especially when I am gearing up for Ireland’s favorite holiday.
My mother was a McCormick. I am in the throes of painting shamrocks,
Irish flags, leprechauns, mushroom houses, ivy, moss; I need green!
We thought we’d be the first kids there, this was totally wrong.
Hundreds of people were shoved into Great-grandma’s tiny house.
Maybe fifty, anyway a lot.
I did not know any of them.
Come in! said a tall woman with a pinched McCormick nose.
My sister and I scooted in, holding up a wall.
Our mother escaped into the kitchen full of McCormick women.
It’s the twins! Someone said.
Great-grandma had eighteen children, not any twins.
How long do we have to stay? I whispered to my sister.
She shrugged.
Suzette, a mean first cousin walked in.
We ran toward her as if we liked her.
At least she was someone we knew.
“Suzette! Suzette!” We yelled.
She sneered at us and began playing with a second cousin.
Layla's face is a map of Ireland grandma McCormick says
or Scotland Shawn McDougall adds hopefully
Look at those freckles, they are irish insists Brigid
You can tell the difference between irish and Scottish freckles?
Layla’s groom does not care about her heritage
Or her genes or teeth or her parents or anything else
He is looking at her the way most of us look at a chocolate cake
She is a gorgeous Celtic bride, and he is mesmerized.
Seeing her all over again for the first time on their wedding day.
Not caring whether she hails from Scotland or Timbuktu.
They make a most handsome couple.
Their bairns will be lovely
Also most probably have a hint of fey.
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