Weekend of the Cross

To prepare for something in which spreads love and light to other people often comes at the price of labor and an occasional good story.  This past Thursday evening saw the start of Weekend of the Cross (WOC).  A yearly event in which students from all over North Louisiana gather in Shreveport for mission work.  It's a great weekend full of hard work, great worship, and overall good times.  For the past two years I've participated as a group leader, having sites or homes to be in charge of.  We either paint portions of the home, or there's light construction work to be done, mostly in the vain of porches and wheel chair ramps.  Two or three adults are paired with around 6 to 8 kids and they spend the weekend fixing up some one's home.  This year, it was a little different for me.

I was asked to be a Major Group Leader (MGL).  This brought about a new experience, a different experience than I was use to.  As a MGL, I was in charge of 5 sites.  5 areas of work, 5 different groups of adults and children, all with different projects and needs.  It was awesome. I thoroughly enjoyed being able to serve these groups, and serve these homeowners as well.  My preconceived notions of how little work the MGL actually did was quickly laid to rest as Monday rolled around.

I decided to go by and personally look at all my homes.  I had come in late to the WOC, which is an all year planning experience, and by the time I had gotten into the mix, most all the measurements and home choices had been made.  In order to best serve my teams, I thought it mandatory to check out these home first hand.  Of the five sites, four were geared up, ready and willing and expecting their groups.  However, no good story proceeds without conflict.

I noticed my homes were all located in the Queensboro neighborhood of Shreveport.  A neighborhood not known for well manicured lawns and exceptional outdoor parties.  Not a lot of neighbor's beaming at the opportunity to express how their property values have been shooting up, if you catch my drift.  A place even I, who will go almost anywhere, would be wary to travel after dark.  A neighborhood in which some things are overlooked.

Pool of Poo

In this case it was the giant pool of pee and poop that had taken up residence in the front yard of one of my group's homes.  One that, in fact, was quite a project.  They were suppose to rip up the flooring of an enclosed porch and then construct an exterior patio.  Something that would really liven up the home exterior.  Imagine my concern when I noticed the area the Middle School and High School kids were intended to work and share and hang out for three days was literally swimming in feces.  Not something you want the parents of these kiddos finding out.  Problem Solving mode hit and we ran with it.


I called a plumber who got his drain man to come out to the home and take care of the issue.  I was very impressed with the quickness of the handling of this incident.  Called on a Monday afternoon for the request, I received another call from the man, Jr., at 7:45pm saying he was heading out to the home to fix the problem.  I slept well that night, knowing we did what was best for the kids.  I had planned to run by the next day with a bag of Lyme to really put it all in the past.

I call Jr the next morning, to confirm he had no problems cleaning out the drain. I inquired of his time at the home.  He informed me the line was clean.  But, then he decided to go into detail of the source of the clog.  Thinking the damage a result of roots, feminine products, or just a rough month with the TP, I indulged his discussion of the subject.  However, he informed what was really the cause of the back up, the pool in the front yard, the smell, the flies, the extreme health issue was in fact...a cat.  Actually more like a kitten.  When he snaked the line he found there to be a feline stuck in the line.   Gross huh?

The cat could only have gotten in the line one of two ways.  Either from the outside clean-out access, which I'm hoping, or from the inside with a "burial at sea."  I want to and choose to believe curiosity is what killed the cat and he ducked in the open line to see what was going on, only to never return.  I feel better at it's demise this way than the more direct and intentional path of toilet to sewage.  It helps to believe the world is not as cruel and misunderstood. 

Either way, this is a funny and unique story.  One in which could and should be shared.  And that's exactly what I did.  I told the director, the site manager, the team leader, my wife, I spread the funny and grotesque news.  I got some razzing from it too, which I embraced.  The pinnacle being at our first full group meeting.

The first night, the first meeting, a room filled with over 100 adults excited and a bit nervous about the weekend to come.  The meeting starts, information is shared, but something out of the ordinary happens.  The site manager (the one in charge of all 31 sites) begins an "interesting" story.  Mine of the cat.  She reveals my name, but at the end, she calls me to the front.  I am presented with a Kitty Litter Cake. A hearty laugh resonates from the crowd as I sit down with my large cake and new nick-name of kitty litter.  I spent the weekend with sly calls of "Meooowww" passed in my direction.  Funny, indeed, and I gladly embraced it. 

The weekend proved to be amazing, as usual, with wonderful work completed by these youth and adults.  The Shreveport Times came by and took some pretty good pics, so check them out.  I also took some pictures showing some greatness by these groups.  It was a wonderful, challenging, and God-centered weekend.  I'm so proud of all the participates and organizers and know the future will be bright as the present shows that Love and Peace will prevail.

Check out these extra pics too:

Prayers Before the work began

Giddy Group Going Great

Making Due with Smiling faces

the Hulk

returning of the buckets signaled you were done

Bringing it Down Home

Quick, here's quiz to determine how "southern" you really are, it's only one questions.  What's a cushaw and how do you cook it?  If you answered a squash/melon type of vegetable, then you are not only truly southern, but probably past the age of 50.  Specifically a Cushaw Squash is a crooked necked squash that is good with cinnamon and in pies, apparently.

I'd never have heard of one, neither had my wife, but her father brought us a cushaw.  For which we had to find something to do with it.  This leads me into today, Sunday, a glorious day.

Today was hot in Louisiana, something like over 100 degrees, hot.  Hot like when you walk outside your find yourself wanting to write your deodorant company complaining there "hot zone" guarantee can't stand up to 10 minutes of LA summer and you want your $3.99 back.  Hot like you can audibly hear the cries of your grass as it lets out it's last breath and dies, virtually seeing it turn yellow before your eyes.  Hot like you are standing at the edge of the river styx waiting to greet Phlegyas.  Hot.

This was the day I decided to grill some chicken.  I found a pretty neat recipe in Men's Health for Jerk Chicken (which we took to calling Republican Chicken).  It needed 60 minutes on the grill.  We cooked it, it was awesome, there's some left if you want some.  But, while we prepared this we had the battle of the desserts.  Me with my Cushaw, and Eliz with her Peach Bars. We flitted around the kitchen in each others way attempting to make the best dessert.  Stove kicking it a 400 degrees, three burners on the stove dialed up to boil, and the sun streaming through our uncurtained windows.  It brought a more literal definition to "If you can't stand the heat, get out the Kitchen."  We survived, neigh, we endured this heat to bring ourselves some goodies.  Neither of us had made these sweeties before and were diligently following the instructions we had.  Turns out, cushaw is good for pies, and that's pretty much what I found on the internet.  I'm willing to bet it's because Louisiana is great and taking healthy vegetables and making them not healthy for you.  Which is what 2/3 cups what sugar, adn 2/3 cups brown sugar will do to any squash.  Not to mention the milk and butter.  And we wonder why there's an obesity epidemic out there.  That being said, we dove into making our sweet treats just as sweet as directed.

Turns out Cushaw pie is a lot like pumpkin pie, could be because one recipe called for 2 Tbs of pumpkin pie seasoning but who really knows.  It cooked for over an hour and half and when it was done was not bad.  With the consistency of custard and the creamy butterness of pumpkin pie.  We had so much cushaw we made two pies with two recipes, for comparison.  I'm pretty sure they will be give away to a good home, though, and not consumed by us.  That'll be next weeks PSA, "Feeling as if you can't go on?  Too much staring you down?  Don't take that next bite, donate your half eaten pie to the W.G.T.Y.U.P of America.  Here a We Glady Take Your Used Pie, of America, we're dedicated to making sure no pie is neglected and no consumer is over indulged."  Yeah, I could see it.  Course The Park Cafe would be like ground zero for trading, but I'd dig in for some more Sugar Free Razzleberry, damn that stuff is good.

It turned out good and now I feel all the more in-tuned with my southern brethren.   Course, this day and age, I know of almost no one who knows what this is.  They're going to be confused tomorrow at church group when I lay that puppy down.  But really, pie is pie, and with enough sugar and butter even old leather shoe pie could eat...and probably has before.

 

The finished (and tested) products. Not much to look at really, but tasty!

Note the Miller High Life in the background, it is, after all, "the champagne of beers."  The recipe I used came from Discuss Cooking, Cushaw Pie.  Bonn Appetite (but say it in a south Louisiana way).

Book Review 100 Top Novels, You Dig!

#55 on Board Review and #42 on Readers List:

On The Road  by Jack Kerouac:

As I posted previously, I decided to read The 100 Best Novels, both the Board's list and the Reader's List.  Well, I was derailed with my first selection, Ulysses by James Joyce.  This mountain of a book proved to be more than I could surmount.  In my self deprivation of my ability to finish this continuous stream of thought explosion of James Joyce, I didn't pick up another of the top dawgs for a while.  Then I, head bowed, turned back to my list of novels.  Choosing, On the Road.

Let me preface this by saying, I'm not a book reviewer, I'm not a publisher, I'm not even grammatically correct all the time, but I'll lay out my pedantic thoughts and let you intern them as you see fit.  For thus is the purpose of the internet...a collection of unwanted, illformed, self-deprecating thoughts of others, which you never intended to know.

The Review- On the Road


Set in the late 1940s, a writer by the name of Sal Paradise feels a stirring in his soul.  One aided by the oft high and ever incorrigible new acquaintance, Dean Moriarty.  With simple goodbye to his gal and loan from his aunt, he takes to the road with hopes of hitchhiking and stowing his way from New York to San Francisco and back again.

He writes of interesting traveling companions, changing weather, and his constant bar hopping and skirt chasing.  Relationships are won and lost and music is a continual theme.  He leaves hoping for self realization, but merely gets homesick, and returns to New York, just to hear the calling of the road again.

He has a companion Dean, whom I could swear he was in love with, but I don't know how plausible that would be in the 40s.  He spoke of him with such regard and emotion as Dean played upon his pseudo intelligence.  I found myself disgusted with Dean's constant infidelities, laziness, and lechery.  His constant taking advantage of his friends and conning those he encountered.  A blatant disregard for anything but himself and getting his kicks.  I wonder if the author/narrator enjoyed portraying this character as a means to show how he wished he could live or what he truly valued.  Then again, perhaps I'm the pseudo intellectual who has missed the point.

Overall I enjoyed the book, not one I would read again, but worth the read.  The calling of adventure and oneness with the times has probably been in all our hearts.  If it was only safe enough these days to attempt to hitch across the U.S.  I'd think of giving it a try, but I wouldn't use this book as any guide.  Kerouac was herald as the original beatnik.   "A gone dude out see the world and get his kicks, dig." I guess I could see myself in his character, that of Sal Paradise, but found that of Dean and the interaction interesting.  One who has opportunity and education does not seek to find out everything, but finds complacency in his bubble.  One who has a disregard for authority, a rejection from society, and inability to stay put searches the world for good times and metaphysical explanation. The dichotomy of the two and how their paths intertwine.  Can you Dig?

A refersher course for all you serious backpakers

The Shearing

 Louisiana is hot. And when I say hot, I mean, WHOLLY CRAP IT'S LIKE I'M ON FIRE IT'S SO DAMN HOTT!  I guess I may be acting a little over dramatic, but it's pretty warm and humid.  Combine that with our past two week vacation in Montana and the heat seems to be working on me a little more than normal.  For example, when we woke up to catch our flight home on July 9th, it was 39 degrees outside in the crisp, Montana morning.  It made the 100+ Dallas evening somewhat unbearable.  Hard to breath and I felt as if my blood was syrup.  The transition since then has been difficult. 

I find it hard to wear too many clothes and sweating as I walk down the block is pretty usual.  Actually, just standing outside, not moving and I sweat.  Mmmm, LA is fun!  I decided to help ease the transition i would get rid of excess facial hair, which was like a wool blanket on my face.  So, I shaved down to a pretty rad, little 80s mustache.  I kinda dug it but Eliz was not a huge fan.  But, I documented it for funzies. 

The obligatory Before pic.

Throwback to my Goatee days (ah I miss the late 90s early 00s)

This is a mid break just show that the beard was over an inch thick

Voila, this was my go-to facial hair style, I dig it

 

 

Eliz reaction when she saw it.

Needless to say, she was not a huge fan of my facial hair decision.  She actually wouldn't even give me a kiss and cringed every time she looked at me.  So, I shaved it all off that night.  Too bad, my very short lived mustache days...or should I say, hours. 

New Shell

Let me first start by saying NO we are not pregnant.  NO we do not have any little one on the way.  The new look and name of the blog "The McCormick Family" is progression into a more age appropriate place and time.

I was very tired of the the site name "what are you joking" of the old site.  I found it to be not only a poor representation of the posts, but also just lame.  And we can't have anything lame around here, now can we.  Also, if the time does come in which we add to our family, then we will have an established and convenient method to share info.  But, nothing now, nor in the works...

So please update you listings and bookmarks for the new ( and hopefully improved) blogspot.  As you can see, with the addition of my wife, I'm already making this place better looking.  And as to not ruin your time, I've posted the link to some of our pictures from Africa,  enjoy!

Africa Pictures