Watercolor

I have a watercolor that my brother painted in shades of red and blue while he lived with me in '02. There's a hazy "sad clown" image in the background and a left hand in the foreground, holding a bloody shard of glass. A beautiful, female eye is gazing out from the painting, and next to a broken heart, it says, "Never Again." To me, the sad clown represents self-pity, self-loathing, self-destruction. The words "never again" could mean several things; I thought that it meant he would never again wallow in his sorrow and would never again attempt suicide. After all, he painted it for me, so I thought he was trying to tell me something. Guess I was wrong.

Suicidal Sibling

For several days, I had this feeling something wasn't right at my mom's house. I was kinda depressed, and kept thinking, "I need to call Mom and see what's up." I called my mother's house Wednesday evening and my sister answered the phone. My younger brother has completely fucked his life up...AGAIN. Saturday night he went out partying, got completely plastered, went thru a Taco Bell drive-thru, hit the side of an 18-wheeler as he was pulling out, got out to check the damage to his truck, got back in his truck, and drove off. The driver of the 18-wheeler got his tag number and called the police. When they arrested him, he blew .22 on the breathalizer. He was in jail for two days. My mom bailed him out Tuesday morning. He's charged with DUI and hit and run. His license was revoked and his boss had no choice other than to fire him. He owes several thousand in fines, and his truck is trashed. Oh, and he got drunk the day he was bailed out, and made tiny cuts on his wrists to kinda beg everyone to feel sorry for him and forgive him. Nice.

He did this whole thing a few years back. He had a great job at the time as a radio DJ. He got a DUI, lost his license, started having to rely on friends to drive him to work, was drinking on the job, mouthed off to a lot of people, and was ultimately fired. Eventually his girlfriend broke up with him and moved out, then he lost his house, tried to kill himself, and ultimately moved back in with my parents. He got his license back about a year or so ago, and started working again, but now he's right back at square one. He is 30 years old, lives with my mother, and now, can't drive, which means he will be bugging my mom to go buy beer for him. My mother swears she won't buy him any alcohol now that he's unemployed, but I know she won't say no to the baby for very long.

Mom has not even called me. If I had not called and talked to my sister, I wouldn't have a clue. She doesn't want to talk to me because she knows what I will say. I would not have bailed his ass out of jail; I'd let him rot in there. At least he can't drink behind bars. My family is like a vortex of drowning people. If you try to save them, they will take you down with them. I'm so glad my sister seems to be swimming to safety, but as for the rest of them, I'm not sure there's any hope.

Bleh

Some days it doesn't pay to chew thru the straps. I woke up depressed this morning, for no apparent reason. Depression is such a sneaky damn disease. I might feel fine for a while, plodding along like everyone else, but then, out of nowhere, it's back. It's like being handed a 50-pound weight and being told, "OK, keep going but carry this." My sister and I were talking once about depression and she made the observation that my life seems so "perfect" that there is nothing to be depressed about. I know she meant well, but damn, what a stupid thing to say. No one's life is perfect. I could make a nauseating, self-pitying list of all the things that aren't perfect about my life, but somehow, I don't think that will make me feel better. Maybe I should go back on meds, but I don't like taking them. I know this will pass eventually, because it goes in cycles, but the meantime sucks.

Bush is a four-letter word...

Of all the newsworthy events in the world, Bush uttering an expletive is just such minutia, but people love to cringe at his fumbling. "See, the irony is what they really need to do is to get Syria to get Hezbollah to stop doing this shit, and it's over," Bush stated to Tony Blair as they sat down to lunch. How did you like the neck rub he gave German Chancellor Angela Merkel, who was the only female at the G-8 table? The man is as dumb as a box of rocks, but at least he's good for a few laughs.

Ranchero Chili

Ranchero Chili

• 5 pounds boneless beef chuck meat, cut into chunks
• 2 teaspoons salt
• 1/2 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
• 3 tablespoons olive oil or vegetable oil, divided
• 3/4 cup chopped shallots
• 3 tablespoons ancho chile pepper powder
• 1 (14.5 ounce) can diced tomatoes with green chiles
• 3/4 cup dry red wine
• 4 large roasted garlic cloves, minced
Heat oven to 325F. Toss beef with salt and pepper. Heat 1 1/2 teaspoons oil in a Dutch oven over high heat. Add one-third of the beef and brown on all sides, about 5 minutes. Transfer to a bowl and repeat two more times with beef and oil. Add the last 1 1/2 teaspoons oil to Dutch oven and cook shallots until lightly browned. Stir in chile powder, tomatoes, wine and garlic; bring to a simmer. Return beef and accumulated juices to Dutch oven. Cover and bake 2 1/2 hours, stirring once halfway through cooking time, until beef is very tender.

Skeered

Nothing prepares you to be the parent of a teenager. I repeat. NOTHING prepares you to be the parent of a teenager. In the past month, my daughter has turned 15, gotten her learner's permit, uploaded a picture of herself in her underwear on her blog, told me she's considered having sex with her boyfriend, and crashed my car into the side of the house. She makes me feel rather old. My son is 11; I wonder how his teen years will be. Am I going to survive this?

Sweet Side

I'm listening to Lucinda while I clean house, and while this is such a painful and god all too true song for me and others, I love her rawness as a songwriter. I will try to post some shiny happy lyrics later, since these are so depressing, but anyway. Here's to me and everyone else showing their sweet side, because it feels good let to let the pain go.

Sweet Side

You run yourself ragged tryin' to be strong
You feel bad when you done nothin' wrong

Love got all confused with anger and pride
So much abuse on such a little child

Someone you trusted told you to shut up
Now there's a pain in your gut that you can't get rid of

No one heard your screams when you were nine
When bad dreams filled your summertime

So you don't always show your sweet side ...

You're tough as steel and you keep your chin up
You don't ever feel like you're good enough

You've had the blues ever since you were six
Your little tennis shoes and your pick-up sticks

You were screamed at and kicked over and over
Now you always feel sick and you can't keep a lover

Every Christmas there were presents to unwrap
But the things you witnessed when you were five and a half

So you don't always show your sweet side ...

Someone deserted you, the damage is done
Now you don't deserve to be loved by no one

Hands that would feed you when you were two
Were the same hands that beat you black and blue

You get defensive at every turn
You're overly sensitive and overly concerned

Few precious memories no lullabies
Hollowed out centuries of lies

So you don't always show your sweet side ...

I've seen you in the kitchen cookin' me supper
I listened to you bitchin' I watched you suffer

I still love you baby 'cause I know you
Don't mean to do the cruel things you do

I've seen you sewin' buttons on your shirt
I've seen you throwin' up when your stomach hurt

I'll stick by you baby through thick and thin
No matter what kind of shape you're in

'Cause I've seen your sweet side ...

Random things that make me smile

My kids getting along. The sound of windchimes. A great cup of coffee. Laughing with my sister. Mike's hugs and kisses. Pain-free days. Making things grow. Giving people presents. Applause and appreciation. Comfortable clothes. Warm weather. Singing the songs my brother likes. Not having to go anywhere or do anything. Plundering antique stores. Being at the beach. Fresh seafood. Chatting with friends over dinner and wine. Good music. Playing Scrabble with my mom. Having a student tell me she learned something from me. Collaborating with other teachers. A clean house. Watching my favorite movies. A long, hot bath. Trying a new recipe, and having it turn out fabulous. Feeling OK about turning 40.

Counting Down

One month to go and I will be back in the classroom. I'm excited but I don't want this month to go too quickly; I really needed the summer break. Obviously, I don't have nearly as much stamina as I would have if I'd started teaching fresh out of college. Honestly though, I didn't want it back then and I think I would have burned out quickly. I waited to teach until the time was right for me.

Interesting sidebar. So this was my first year of teaching. I loved it. I was nominated for teacher of the year. I learned a ton and can't wait to try out the new things I learned on a fresh batch of kids. Etc. After one year of teaching, one year of finally realizing a lifelong dream, do you think I could quit my job? That would be kinda weird, right? Well my mother recently suggested that I should quit my job and go into business with my husband if he starts his own business. My husband considers going into for himself, and after just one year of teaching, I'm supposed to drop everything and be his secretary.

WTF?? Does she not know me at all? That's so...1950s. She looked at me in amazement when I said that no, I would not quit my job. She asked me again to confirm. I couldn't believe it. Aside from the fact that it's something I've always wanted to do and apparently, I'm quite good at doing, teaching offers stability, good benefits, retirement, etc. If he was starting his own business, wouldn't my job be the ace in the hole? Oy. Mothers. You gotta love 'em