macaroni and marshmallows

I know, I haven't posted anything of substance in days. I'll get around to it. In the meanwhile, recipes. I can't find my strawberry pie recipe right now though. The only special kitchen equipment needed is a whisk and a candy thermometer. The marshmallows are way easier with a stand mixer, but you can use a handheld one.

( Macaroni & Cheese, from Luby's )

( Marshmallows! Of delicious! )

Intervention

I watch a lot of episodes of A&E's Intervention. It's sort of masochistic, I suppose. Many of the episodes are about meth, and alcohol. I watched one this morning about a kid not too much younger than myself, from a place not more than four hours away from here. He was a meth addict, bipolar, angry, out of control, and in trouble with the law. The new episode for the week has a woman who has injected meth for ten years, and has uncontrolled hallucinations and paranoia. In the faces of their family members I recognize something of myself. They remind me of Alan, of course. I recognize the facial tics, the angry expressions, the fury, the grandiose and bizarre words. I recognize it all.

There is a part of me that will always feel like I failed him. There is a part of me that will always feel like I did not do enough, that I did not fight hard enough. Maybe if I hadn't cried at the thought of sending him to Shoal Creek, maybe he would have gone. A thousand what-ifs and maybes, a thousand nights of laying still in the dark and listening and wondering. Maybe I should have tried to get this show to come and save him. Though given the way he hated for even our friends and family to know about his illness I can't imagine he would ever participate in something involving cameras and strangers. I wish I had sent him to rehab, I wish I could have made him go. I see these people go into rehab, and get sober, and it makes me cry because I will not ever see that happen for him.