"You don't get it, Mom," says my twenty-something vision of a daughter, who herself was a miracle, since i was over forty years old when she was born.

She says to me, "You don't look like the chic 1960s feminist railing out an intelligent argument when you go on and on the way you do," and I look at her astonished, as that is pretty much my self image. She says, "No, you just look like an angry raging old lady."

Well I AM a raging old lady. Why not build on that?