That about sums it up...

Well, I feel
Like I have to feel
Something good all of the time
With most of life I cannot deal
But a good feeling I can feel
Even though it may not be real
And if a person, place or thing can deliver
I will quiver with delight
But will it last me for all my life
Or just one more lonely night

The lust, the flesh
The eyes
And the pride of life
Drain the life
Right out of me

I'm feeling awfully down this morning. I'm in a funk, and I can't say exactly why, because there are many things that are on my mind.

Part of it is the clutter that is my life,
part of it is comparing myself and my children and our accomplishments with other people, their children and their accomplishments,
part of it is a feeling of hope lost,
part of it is a desire for excellence that seems elusive,
and part of it may just be a bit of undigested morsel.

This morning, I was supposed to pick up the Amish schoolteacher before sunrise. That's quite a task for me, because, while I consider myself somewhat of a morning person, I live in a house full of bohemians. I can't really settle myself into bed well until I feel that everyone and everything else is settled first, so I often find myself burning the candle at both ends, staying up and cleaning, puttering, getting ever-grumpier, while I just wish my day would come to a tidy, comfortable close, and then, as soon as the sun streams through my east-facing, curtainless bedroom window, my eyes pop open and my mind swirls and spins with the limitless things I should do, need to do, and want to do.

My husband's grandfather is moving to Illinois to be with my husband's family. While I know it's the best thing for him, it fills me with guilt. My husband's family all work, and I'm a stay-at-home mom. I should be able to keep him here. They have their hands full already. But I'm not dependable enough, I know. Not qualified. And I highly doubt that he would be comfortable with such a proposition, so I've never offered it. This house is loud and obnoxious. He's used to quiet and neat. It's the main reason we've not visited him, our loudness and obnoxiousness. The last time we visited his house, before Grandma died, Sweetheart left her shoes smack-dab in the middle of the floor and Grandma tripped over them, sending her sprawling to the floor, her shoulder bruised and broken. I was horrified. After that, Bo and I agreed that our visiting was more for our own selfishness than for their benefit, though we ached to be of help to these people who had been so kind to us for so many years. It seemed, though, that any help we offered had already been offered and taken care of by someone else.

When Grandma was taken to the hospital just before she died, we wanted to go visit. We wanted to be there, but we knew that it would cause confusion and stress, so we stayed away. After the funeral, we asked if there was anything we could do. I, for one, felt useless. I wanted to be there to care for grandpa, to comfort him, to do his laundry and cook for him. But it was all taken care of.

This weekend, when we realized that it may be the last time we see this man who has made us laugh for so many years with his magic tricks, who has inspired Houdin to take up illusion as his primary hobby, Bo said that we really needed to go visit him. After all, because of our unreliable cars, we haven't been out to visit Bo's parents in Illinois for years. Grandpa's 86 years old. We had to face reality. We wanted to spend time with him, tell him we love him, enjoy some magic tricks again before he leaves.

It was so wonderful and yet so awful. Just to be there with him, to visit and talk and laugh and question and remember was so very good. He and Houdin swapped magic trick tips, showed each other their fake deck cuts, and Grandpa told Houdin that he had a gift, that he needed to work on it, that he could do well. Bard, who had felt very badly about not spending more time with her grandmothers, stayed by Grandpa's side through the whole day and into the evening.

It was clear to me that we should have been visiting more. Grandpa is so lonely, is grieving so hard over Grandma. After sixty-three years of marriage, he still awakes in the middle of the night and looks for her, still tries to find her in the crowd at church. I thought she was coming home, he said. I thought we'd take her to the hospital, and she'd get better, and she'd be back here with me, he said. And he cried. I can talk about anything, he said, but not her. I break down every time I talk about her. And I wonder, is that what I had that he needed? Someone to talk to about Grandma?

We stayed too late, I know, but it wasn't long enough. I just wanted to sit with him. I knew that he didn't want to be alone in that house, that the night was the hardest part. And I cry now, even thinking about it. He's so lonely for his sweetheart. How could we leave?

But we did, and it was almost midnight when we arrived home. I was too tired to keep my eyes open, but I set my alarm, because I knew I had to get up before dawn to pick up the Amish teacher. I checked the alarm and double-checked it and triple-checked it.

And I awoke to the telephone ringing.

I opened my eyes, oriented myself, and looked at the clock. But before I did, I knew. The sun was up, and I'd overslept. The phone stopped ringing. I tried to call back, but there was no answer.

Must I fail everyone?

Well, I see something and I want it
Bam! Right now!
No questions asked
Don't worry how much it costs me now or later
I want it and I want it fast
I'll go to any length
Sacrifice all that I already have
And all that I might get
Just to get
Something more that I don't need
And Lord, please don't ask me what for

The lust, the flesh
The eyes
And the pride of life
Drain the life
Right out of me

Retail therapy. Saturday morning I awoke and knew that I had to go into the Big City to take Bard for choir practice. It's my chance to buy groceries at The Great Big Warehouse Store Where We Buy Everything In Mega Quanitities to Feed Our Moderately Large Family. It's also my chance to buy real yogurt at the Upper Class Health Food Store, oggle at the puppies in the Very Upper Class Pet Boutique, and shop for clothes at The Store that is Not Stuff*Mart or Thrift*Store. Before I even got out of the house, I had an itch to buy something. Not something I need, because there really isn't very much I need. Something else. Something completely frivolous and feel-goody. I don't know why. I just did. Flowers or nice clothes or a new shiny thing of some sort. I don't do this often, because I quite simply don't have the money for it. Most of the nice things I have are from the Thrift*Store of have been gifts from my mother-in-law or other people who love me and know my champagne taste and my Kool-Aid budget.

But I decided to resist. I would be sensible. I would stay within my budget. I would not overspend.

Somehow, we ended up with:

~A shearling lamb lavendar coat for The Baby
~a Music Man DVD
~and an i-pod shuffle ("ONLY $49.95 if you spend $75 in retail merchandise!").

Cha-ching. Overspent by $75. For some people, that's a drop in the bucket.

For me, it's 1/3 of my groceries for the week.

And I love when folks
Look right at me
And what I'm doing
Or have done
And lay it on about
How groovy I am
And that I'm looking grand
And every single word
Makes me think I'll live forever
Never knowing that they probably
Won't remember what they said tomorrow
Tomorrow I could be dead

The lust, the flesh
The eyes
And the pride of life
Drain the life
Right out of me

So I let the teacher down and I don't even know how or if she got a ride. So Houdin had a show at the County Home on Friday and he messed up or forgot to bring half of his tricks and I feel like it was my fault. So I don't have any people signed up for the upcoming Sprouted Acorn classes and I wonder why I even try. So someone who I though was a friend has basically stopped talking to me and I don't know what I've done wrong, but it makes me sad and angry. So no one came to the play group that I planned for our homeschool group, even though I've heard so many people talking about how there needs to be something for the families with younger kids. So Houdin isn't taking piano lessons anymore because I can't get him to practice and getting him out of the house to piano lessons is like pulling teeth. So a neighbor accidentally left her husband's pants hanging in a bag on my mailbox and I took them because I didn't know whose they were, and two weeks later, she showed up at my door explaining what happened and how she should have called right away but she didn't and they're going to Florida the next day, so could she have them back, and I didn't find them until after they left. So I was supposed to pay for the Irish Step classes by today and I haven't sent the check. So my house is messy today and my porch has chicken poop on it and I don't have any money for retail therapy and I'm trying to eat healthy so I can't go binge, and Grandpa's moving out-of-state and he doesn't need anything because it's all being taken care of by a good Catholic man and I feel like a useless twit.

And I'm just looking for something to make me feel better. A person. A place. A thing. Whatever. It doesn't matter.

The lust, the flesh
The eyes
And the pride of life
Drain the life
Right out of me

1 John 2:16 (Amplified Bible)
Amplified Bible (AMP)

For all that is in the world--the lust of the flesh [craving for sensual gratification] and the lust of the eyes [greedy longings of the mind] and the pride of life [assurance in one's own resources or in the stability of earthly things]--these do not come from the Father but are from the world [itself].

The Lust, The Flesh, The Eyes and The Pride of Life Lyrics by The 77s