I’ll write about my vacation soon. This was more pressing.

So I’m scrolling through my @ stream on my Twitter account, as I do for my business. I see some comment from someone I don’t even know, insulting a recent post I wrote on Mashable. The jist was “how can people get paid to write this drivel, basic stuff?” Clearly, she was not my intended audience if she already knows everything I wrote about. Move on. Get over it.

I feel like I’m in high school and someone just said something rude to me. My heart is racing. My blood is pounding. Bad words are coming from my mouth. How dare she bad mouth me when she doesn’t know me? There are thousands, no millions of articles out there that are a base intro to something I already know well. Do I criticize? No, I think, “This is written for someone who wants a basic understanding of this topic. It’s not for me.”

She inferred that I got paid for it. I don’t. I guest blog on Mashable as a way to share my knowledge with an audience who doesn’t know how to use social media to market. Clearly she is the guru of all social media, so she doesn’t need Mashable or to read my articles. Go read a rocket science blog, babe.

When is too much too much?

Look, I’m all in favor of Twitter as a means of communication. It’s great for business and personal use. Hey, I even found out some pretty disturbing things about my marriage through Twitter. But why are we (and by “we” I mean that girl) using it to bash people for no reason?

It goes back to high school. Most of us  haven’t cut someone down like that since we were 17. Those of us who are mature, anyway. I mean really. If we were all in one giant office, working together, would someone be like “Wow, that really sucks.” ?? Or would we find more diplomatic ways to address problems?

The internet is big enough for all of us. If you don’t like something, move on. There’s no need to get personal.

In college I got into photography. I took a few classes and had a great old Minolta. Eventually the camera started leaking light (read: broke) and I didn’t replace it. Enter husband and kid. I bought nice point and shoot cameras, but never felt like I had the capabilities I did with an SLR (read: real camera).

I have been promising myself a nice camera ever since. Somehow I always find other things to spend my money on. Until recently. While it’s not as nice as I wanted, I have bought a Nikon D3000. I realized maybe I’m not ready for a $1000+ camera and could do quite well with one half that price.

So far I love it. I’m dredging up creativity I thought was lost with the opening of my womb to another being. I’m seeing photo shots everywhere, whether I have my camera or not. I’m so looking forward to trying it out on our trip to Montreal, because my favorite shots are those I take when traveling. Which I haven’t done in as long as I haven’t had a good camera.

I have a theory. In our 30s (or mine, anyway) we rediscover our creativity, if we had it. In high school, my goal was to go to Kansas City Art Institute and become a professional artist. I later realized I didn’t have what it took to cut it (and even later realized that “professional artist” is not a true, money paying profession), so I went other routes. The sketch pads got put away. The portfolio gathered dust. But in the last year, I’ve started working on art projects, and adding photography to that just makes me feel whole again. I didn’t know what I’d been missing.

Art comes in and out of our lives as we need it. Apparently right now, I need it.

I awoke at 6:35. Woke Max up. Started my coffee while I stood grumpily (par for the course on a Monday) in the kitchen. Got his breakfast ready. Drank coffee. Opened eyes.

Looked out window. Saw snow. Snow?? Snow was NOT in the forecast.

“Hey Max. It snowed. Uhhh, I better make sure you have school.”

School cancelled. Great. I don’t have to pretend to get dressed.

We’re leaving for our trip to Montreal Wednesday, so mother-in-law, hereto referred to as Granny, was due to arrive this afternoon at 4. Cleaning spurts ensue in between bouts of work.

2 o’clock rolls around. She calls. Her connecting flight from Houston is cancelled. Hopes to get on the 7 pm flight. Doesn’t happen. By 7 pm she is comfortably nestled in the in-airport hotel and our nerves are shot. All plans shot to hell.

And to top it off, the snow is slushy and no fun. Spent longer getting suited up than actually playing in the snow.

A nice dip in the temperature means she’ll probably miss her early flight tomorrow, and who wants to mess with ice-covered slush-snow? Sigh. Hope we make our flight on Wednesday.