Oh yes. I have moved into Cliche Territory. But no one loves a good Jewish Mother joke as much as... a Jewish Mother.

This is a guilt-free post. My first and last. Guilt is my middle name. It's in the DNA.

Yes, I've been neglecting you, Live Journal. But that doesn't mean I don't love you.

Okay. I am guilty. Live Journal has allowed my wings to stretch and my words to soar. Why do we always hurt the ones we love best?

Yes. It's true. As much as Twitter and Facebook have become integral facets of our writers' community, I will always think of Live Journal as my child. And a Jewish mother will never turn her back on a child. You can never do anything wrong. It's our fault you went crazy, robbed a bank, cheated in school, cut your beautiful hair into that unattractive mullet, got a ticket for talking on the cell phone while driving (because of course you were talking to your mother at the time, darling, blame it on me).

And so now I will tell you All that Is True: Live Journal, you are my favorite child. DON'T TELL YOUR SISTER! May G-d Strike me dead if she ever finds out! ;>

If Guilt is a foreign object to you, if nothing ruffles your feathers-- how do you live like that? I have no idea-- let me invite you into the Twitteleh world. This is what Jewish Guilt feels like: Don't worry about me. I'll be all right. That's right. You don't have to call your mother. Don't write. I'll live. I don't want to obligate you.

But let me ask you before you run off to be with your, sniff, new little friends:

Are you hungry? Can I get you something? You're schvitzing. Are you hot? Here. Sit closer to the air-conditioner. I'll sweat. It's all right. I'm your mother. What? You're cold? I don't need my three sweaters. You do. Put them on right now. Over my dead body will I let you shiver. Tired? Sit down so I can rub your toes. Take a nap. I'll watch the kids. Better you should rest. You don't want circles under your eyes, do you? So tell me: Is there anything I did right today?