I'm entitled to be grumpy.

I can be unpleasant. I worry about situations I cannot control and a lack of proper sleep and/or nutrition can take a toll on a girl. I'd even go as far to say that some mornings I behave like a mama bear who was dragged out of her cave mid-hibernation. I'm entitled to be grumpy. Right?


Well, try living with my husband who rarely exhibits grumpy unless he happens to fall into the right combination of hungry and exhausted (then he behaves like a bear also). As he was preparing for this morning's fishing trip, I peered at him through bleary eyes and smiled as he happily shows me his t-shirt that reads,"I'm entitled to be grumpy." He was a walking contradiction with his big grin as he trotted out the door. I knew he wasn't making a statement about his temperament rather his memories. Paul is a t-shirt collector and ceremoniously retires his t-shirts to family members and makes them solemnly vow to return them if they have no need for them anymore. To Paul, each t-shirt is a wearable memory and today he's wearing the memory of his Grandpa Partee, who was the original owner of the t-shirt. I'm glad that I crawled out of bed and had a few moments with him before he left this morning. Paul possesses some magical endearing charm that inspires me in the most mundane moments and changes my grumpy heart. 

The t-shirt that Paul inherited from his Grandpa Partee.

Enjoying a cup of coffee and organizing my thoughts, I realized that I'm entitled to be grumpy; however, I'm also entitled to accept life, accept each situation, accept what people say or do and handle it. To complain is to not accept what is and to look at things in a negative light. I'm not a victim of life. I was given life! When I have reason to be grumpy or complain, I can accept it or change it. Anything else is pure insanity.


I'm entitled to be happy too.

Dust in the Wind



The progressive rock band, Kansas, knew about dust in the wind. They wrote a whole song about it.

I close my eyes

Only for a moment and the moment's gone

All my dreams

Pass before my eyes with curiousity.

I particularly identify with this part of the song. For the last two weeks (when it's not raining), I've attempted to drag Thing 1 & Thing 2 outside to play in the yard. We moved to our homestead this January so we've not really enjoyed our yard yet. Fighting cold temperatures and flood-like conditions, we've spent far too much time indoors but the worst culprit of all is WIND.

Most everyone enjoys balmy breezes but the door-wrenching-hair-whipping-toy-blowing-hoodie-snatching-picnic-ruining wind can stir up a storm of irrational anger in me in a blink of an eye.

Thing 1 and Thing 2 also have a mutual dislike for the wind. First of all, they wake excited by the deceiving sunshine so they can enjoy spring activities like blowing bubbles, drawing with sidewalk chalk and picking dandelions. But when I have to hang onto our storm door with a death grip and a gust of wind threatens to knock them down before they step onto the patio, they slowly back out of the doorway and start to take off their shoes and jackets. We've resorted to blowing bubbles in the kitchen, playing in sand on a plastic tablecloth (so not worth the effort) and playing ball in the house. I didn't enjoy bringing the outdoors in so I put the those things back outdoors. To spice up playime, I bought a bag of balloons. Surprisingly, a whole bag of balloons has lasted over a week without being noisy, messy or destructive. Still, balloons are no consolation for playing outside!

I know wind has a purpose but I still hate it because wind...

• Ruins perfectly sunny days by chilling you to the bone.
• Makes me paranoid in parking lots that my door will fly open and ding the car next to me.
• Causes difficulties during track practice for Big Sister. It's hard enough without competing with the wind.
• Knocks over trash bins. Empty or full it's still annoying.
• Damages trees and possibly our roof (fingers crossed)
• Fuels grass fires.
• Dries out my eyes.
• Blows dirt, leaves and debris everywhere.

Most all, I hate wind because it makes me feel small and inconsequential like dust in the wind.

FUN FACT: Kansas was my first concert at Tulsa, Oklahoma's MayFest. I went with my mom, my mom's friend and her daughter. I was 15 & screamed, "Kansas Rules!" at the most inapproriate, quiet moments just to be annoying. It was pretty boring after Dust in the Wind so I spent most of the time laughing at beer sloshing, weirdo concert goers. Good times.

My name is Megan and I'm a hypocrite.

I confess.  I'm a hypocrite.

The following will completely contradict itself but I 'm not clever enough to help it.

I'm about to complain about complainers. 

December 19, 2010



Dear Mr., Mrs. or Ms. Chronic Complainer (myself included):

Please quit complaining. By complaining, you continually tell others about some horrible thing and by retelling and complaining about this horrible thing you ultimately bring yourself down and those unfortunate enough to hear your complaining.

Do yourself and others a favor. If compelled to complain, then find a volunteer who will not judge you or offer pointless solutions (Husbands are you listening?). Suddenly, your complaining is transformed into venting, a close cousin to complaining and a necessary component of a healthy life. 

Venting is a way to let go of complaints so they don't become the central focus of your mind and that long angry speech you have at the ready is forgotten. Please don't live with your woes because it's exhausting and unproductive for all involved.

Thank you and please feel free to vent (not complain) about the absurdity of this blog.

Kind regards,

Megan Keller