He double dog dared me

So I haven't blogged in well over a year.

Molly Ivins died.

Dick Gephardt hasn't publicly uttered a "Nah, nah, I told you so" over NAFTA.

Too many are drinking the Obama Kool-aid. Oh, don't waste your breath. You all still think ambition and assertiveness in a woman is mean, unnatural and somehow corrupt. I'm weary of being a member of the largest "minority" in this country ~ the only one that it is still permissible to publicly degrade.

Not? Oh, yeah? How about Susan Pinker pimping her book all over NBC. You know, The Sexual Paradox in which she says our "cuddle" hormones keep women from WANTING the male dominated jobs. The world according to Phyllis Schlafly redux. And, no, I'm not giving you a link. If you want to read it, find it yourself. And while you do, think how that kind of reasoning would go over if theorized about any other minority's performance.

I need to point out you are reading narrative from a woman who made three full-grown male lawyers sob real tears in a two-week time period (an Atlanta journalism record) and who also has in her file a recommendation letter from an editor that says I work motherhood and good reporting into a nice performance. That from a job that netted me a national and several state news writing awards.

So, for awhile, I quit banging my head against brick walls.
I wanted my "Buy American" bumper sticker back (then courtesy of the now nearly nonexistent UAW).
Angsting over nonsensical governmental moves hurt my head.
I was beginning to believe I was on acid again, only without the pretty trailers.

Then my son the Twitterer put together Twubble in two days. After reminding him he has yet to post the Christmas pictures of my granddaughter, I started to question him about his Twitters.

"It's not for old people, Mom," he said.

Sounded like a double dog dare to me. Guess I just don't have those cuddle hormones.