This past week, I’ve been a whining baby. I won’t go into all the details, but it’s similar to how we’ve all been crying and whining about winter being long and uncomfortable and then BANG we get some full force smoking summer weather and I still hear people grumbling. I kid you not; I saw two people huffing and puffing at the Pill-Mart yesterday, trying to decide what kind of fan to buy.
Please don’t take it personally. It’s not you. It’s me. I’m more upset with myself than with folks at the Pill-Mart. Truth be told, I’ve been doing the same thing. I’ve been complaining about all the good things in my life because they’re not good enough or they’re not good in exactly the way I want them to be good.
And that’s no good.
Let’s take this blog, for example. At what other point in history, time, or space could a person like me write a letter to the world and with a few key strokes actually share it with the world? That doesn’t even take into consideration the gratitude I should have about being able to put words together in a somewhat logical pattern. Sometimes, those words are even funny, or so I’ve been told. And as if the words were not enough, I can take professional quality pictures with a camera the size of a pack of gum and add them to my words. Yet, instead of walking around in a puffy cloud each and every day, I sometimes look at my blog “stats” and say “whaaa, whaaa, 38 views, whaa, whaa.” The fact that I know RIGHT NOW how many people are reading my blog is crazy miraculous.
Do you know what my friend Cherie Ripperton says when I start whining about stuff like this? She says “Cool it.”
Here’s my whining baby bucket:
I’m going to dump that bucket full of whining baby thoughts out right now. I’ve got nothing to whine about. I’m going to “cool it.”
Have you whined about anything this week? What did you do to “cool it?”